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Nicky Nichols and Gossip Girl have a love-hate relationship.

Love because Nicky finds it kind of fucking hilarious and pathetic how a dumb blog can put the fear of god into some of their classmates who hang on every word and hold their breath in anticipation for the next update. Not to mention the Chapman epic fuck-up posts are always good for a laugh on a shit day.

Hate because one minute Nicky publicly tells Gossip Girl to go fuck herself/himself/itself/themselves (?) and the next everyone’s phones chime with a “ding dong Nicky Nichols isn’t into dong because she’s a lesbian.” Not that it was ever some big fucking secret. Nicky has known this about herself from a young age and embraced it. Most people knew. It was just never something that came up in polite society party small talk before. Again, Nicky embraced it and threw herself a coming out party. Dumb as fuck, but it sent Gossip Girl a message—you can’t break me, motherfucker.

Most days Nicky doesn’t mind being a star in Gossip Girl’s fucked up little musical. Most days it’s more of a relief that the truth is all out there for everyone to see and so there’s nothing about her that hasn’t been said. She doesn’t try to hide anything because lies and secrets just fuel and encourage Gossip Girl. She’s a former junkie and forever a highly addictive personality type who likes a good party and everyone knows it so she’s free to live honestly. Maybe sometimes too honestly. 

“No, no, no, this is all wrong!” Lorna hits a button on her phone and drops it onto the scattered notebooks, textbooks and loose pieces of paper that currently cover Nicky’s dinner table. “Gossip Girl got it wrong! I’m not from Jersey! Alex gets to be the Rockabilly Babe and I’m the Jersey Shhhwhore?” 

Nicky’s working on a particularly complicated math problem, but completely abandons it to laugh, nearly falling backwards and bringing the chair with her.

“At least Gossip Girl liked your lipstick,” Nicky points out. “Eh, what color is that anyway? Shhhwhore Hot?”

“Shut up.” Lorna takes a set of neatly stapled papers out of a folder with a puppy on it and tosses it over to Nicky, who’s sitting across from her. “Look over my paper, will ya? And be honest.”

Nicky takes the essay, happy for a break from Pre-Calculus that makes her want to tear all her hair out on a good day and set herself on fire on a bad one. Lorna goes on highlighting whatever in a packet of papers as Nicky tucks her pencil behind her ear, leans back in her chair and reads over the papers stained with coffee rims and smudges of lipstick.

"This essay is terrible." Nicky laughs, biting lightly on the end of the red pen in her hand. Lorna tears the paper away from Nicky and swats her with it. "What? You said to be honest! Did you even read the Great Gatsby?"

"Sure, I did!" Lorna shouts, with her chin tilted up. Something she’s picked up from hanging out with Chapman too much, Nicky is sure.

"I mean the book, not the opening credits of the movie, kid." 

Morello flips her off with a short, slim finger that Nicky stares at, wants to bite.  She then steals the pencil from Nicky’s hair, sets it in the Pre-Calculus book and shuts it.

“C’mon, Nichols, let’s take a break.”

Lorna grabs the bag of cheesy puffs on the breakfast bar and tugs on Nicky’s arm until she follows her to the couch in the living area. Lorna turns on the flat screen TV and surfs through the channels as Nicky tosses cheesy puffs into the air, trying to catch them in her mouth. She’s fairly successful two out of every three tries. One second they’re joking and laughing, their shoulders knocking into each other. The next goes quiet and they’re still looking at each other as the smiles fade into something else.  

Nicky can't ever help the thoughts she has when she's around Lorna. The girl is like a puzzle Nicky wants to solve and suck and have sex with. She really meant it when she told Alex and Piper she'd stop if she could. Lorna's a good friend and fun to be around and Nicky could really do without the constant nagging in her head, telling her that life would be so much better if her palms were constantly full of Lorna's tits or if their fingers were laced just for the sake of holding hands.

These impulses are fairly easy to hold back when she forces herself to think about lame, dumb things like consequences. In this moment, though, Nicky doesn't think, she doesn't even try to psych herself up beforehand, just kisses Lorna square on the mouth. Nicky shuts her eyes, threads her fingers through Lorna's soft hair and savors every second because she's certain she just sabotaged this friendship. 

But then the strangest thing happens—Lorna kisses her back. Nicky feels something surge through her entire body; a thrill of maybe this girl likes me too. It surprises her in the best way when Lorna sucks hard on her bottom lip. Nicky smirks, parting her lips in invitation. She gets lost in the way Lorna's licking into her mouth, all electrically charged and fucking hot. Nicky doesn't realize she's copping a feel until her fingers tweak Lorna's left nipple, making her gasp and snap out of whatever spell she was under. Lorna pushes Nicky's hand away and moves to the other end of the couch, struggling to catch her breath. 

Neither says anything right away. The calm before the shitstorm.

"Nichols," Lorna says breathlessly. "That...shouldn't have happened."

"What? You didn't like it?" Nicky pants just as heavily. "You've got a funny way of showing it."

"Well, now I know your reputation is no joke..." Lorna nervously combs her fingers through her hair that had Nicky’s fingers in it just seconds ago. "I think this break was long enough. We should get back to homework..."

Nicky sits for a moment, hunched over, a little hurt, but mostly angry at herself and sick of denying her feelings. "You know I'm into you, right?"

Lorna stops mid-wiping at the corners of her mouth. "Nicky, you know I'm not, you know..."

"Yeah, yeah, you aren't gay. You're obsessed with fucking Christopher, who thinks you're creepy and annoying, by the way. But unless I'm making shit up in my head or just fucking dumb, I could have sworn you were pretty into me just then."

"What do you want me to say?" Lorna's voice rises and her accent just gets thicker. "You're Nicky Nichols! You're a good kisser! But you're also Nicky Nichols, my friend, and I like being just friends. Every teen movie and TV show proves that gettin’ physical ruins friendships. Let's not go there, okay?"

"Yeah, sure." Nicky sniffs loudly and grabs her keys off the coffee table. "I'm going out. Lock up when you leave, alright?"

"Where are you going?" Lorna asks gravely. "To get high?"

"Don't fucking judge me, Morello."

"Just because I don't wanna be one of your playthings, one of those girls you sleep with and never talk to ever again doesn't mean I don't care! You start using that shit again Red is gonna kill you."

"Don't worry about me. Just don't forget to lock up and put the spare key in the spot before you go."

"Nicky," Lorna whines, just not in the way Nicky would like. "Please don't get messed up over this. I'm not worth it."

The front door is in her sights, but Nicky pauses and turns to look at Lorna from over her shoulder. "You're worth more than you think. Don't sell yourself short, kid."

Nicky doesn't wait for Lorna's reaction before she slams the door and heads for the stairs. She spends the rest of the night wandering around the city, killing an entire pack of cigarettes as she does, debating in her head if that sexy, short-lived lip lock was worth the shit storm that followed. Nicky thinks up maybe a dozen different ways that scene in her loft could have played out, but in every single one, Nicky kisses her. Consequences be damned.

*

Piper is exhausted.  

She’s just about to leave campus after finally getting out of her after school Spanish Club meeting. She has so much going on in her life. At the top of that is worrying about Cal, who hasn’t been quite the same since being kidnapped by drug dealers, not to mention her parents nagging her about social obligations. Then there are academics, extracurricular activities included. Thankfully, cross country is over for the season, but Miss Mendoza, who Piper sort of loves even though she's terrifying, names her head of their booth at tomorrow’s multicultural fair mostly to spite the other girls when Piper is the only one who showed up to the meeting on time.

All she wants to do is go home and take a hot shower, maybe a long soak in the tub with the new spring wildflower exfoliating bath salts she just bought. A little Piper-time would be heaven. Then she can get to all the other things and people crying out for her attention.

"Nice skirt." 

Piper looks up from her phone that’s still roughed up, but with a new case, and there's Alex Vause looking so amused, slowly dragging her eyes up and down Piper’s schoolgirl uniform. Her first thought is how nice it is to see Alex. With their busy schedules, it’s been a while since the last time they hung out. Second, Piper realizes she looks like a complete mess and, oh god, in front of Alex of all people.

“How’s Cal doing?” Alex asks.

“Home, healthy, clean,” Piper replies. “A little shaky. Some days I feel like he really is going to up and leave, go and live in the wilderness with as little human interaction as possible. He’s good though. Thanks for asking.” 

“No problem.”

"So, Alex Vause, what brings you to my neck of the woods?" Piper cringes as soon as the words leave her mouth. Did she really just say that?

“Did you really just say that?” Alex chuckles and it’s such a gentle, laidback sound. It really is unfair how effortlessly cool Alex Vause is. "I wish I could say I’m here for pleasure and not business." 

Despite Alex's voice that's almost as playful as it is heavy with worry, Piper immediately thinks of that other part of Alex, the one that slaps around drug dealers in parking lots of sketchy motels. The memory alone is enough to make Piper think to back away, but she doesn’t.

"Was Nicky at school today?" Alex asks.

"No, she wasn’t. I texted her this morning when she didn't show and she told me she's out sick. I asked if she wanted me to bring her assignments or textbooks to the loft, but all she replied with was l-o-l so... Now that I think about it, she’s been acting weird for the past couple days. Moody and just not like herself."

"We have a situation," Alex says. The way her words tiptoe around whatever it is that's going on, Piper knows to expect it to be bad. "Come on, Lorna can explain. Her accent gets crazy when she’s frantic so good luck." 

"Why is she frantic?" 

Alex just juts her head to the side and Piper follows her to a sleek silver sports car parked around the corner. It’s a gorgeous car and a miracle it’s in pristine condition given the neighborhoods Alex is known to hang around. Alex makes a big deal (joke?) about opening the door for Piper and motioning her inside. The blonde quickly slides into the leather seat in an attempt to hide how hot her face feels all of a sudden.

They end up meeting Morello at a pizza parlor that's owned by her cousin's uncle's dad’s uncle or something like that and the waiter breaks out the good wine the moment Alex steps in through the door. They sit in one of the back booths and Lorna fills Piper in on what happened with Nicky the other day. Alex's phone keeps ringing and she keeps excusing herself from the table to take her calls outside. 

"Now Nicky won't talk to me," Morello says miserably. "I've been texting and calling and I feel so guilty. What if she starts using again? All because of me."

Piper shakes her head resolutely. "No, don't think like that. Nicky's just in a mood. She'll bounce back. She knows she can't force you to feel a certain way."

"That's the other thing...I didn't exactly hate making out with her. I don't know if it's because it's been a while..." Morello takes a breath, twining her fingers together. "I'm not gay. I've never felt anything for other girls beyond ass envy. But Nicky just...she's Nicky! She's great at what she does and making you feel special and wanted."

"True," Piper agrees. "But I'm pretty sure she tries a little harder when it comes to you."

Lorna's eyes widen, deer in the headlights at its finest. "You know?"

"You know?” Piper asks in return. The way Nicky talks about Morello when they should be working on their lab report (of course Piper and Nicky are randomly paired up as lab partners because of course), she’s always so over the moon giddy and Piper has always wondered if Morello realized or not. “I mean, Nicky doesn't exactly try to hide it, but I always thought..."

“Well…” Lorna hesitates and twists her fingers together so hard they start to lose circulation. "Yeah, I know she flirts with me a ton, but she flirts with everyone! I never thought it meant more."

Piper frowns in one of the few instances where she isn’t happy about being right. "Don't worry. I'm sure she's fine."

"I better try to call Tricia again," Morello mutters. "For the hundredth time now, I might add."

Piper has met Tricia Miller a few times since the impromptu party at Nicky's loft the night they saved Cal. She just turned fifteen, a product of a tough family situation and a victim of the system, whose foster parents don’t seem to mind that she spends most nights sleeping in the spare room at Nicky’s. Another thing Piper has recently learned about Nicky is that she’s sort of known for taking in strays and acts like an older sister to the girl with the throat tattoo.

When Morello calls just to be sent to voicemail again, Alex finally returns to the table, pushes her glasses up into her hair and massages her temple. Piper can’t help, but wonder if it’s regarding Nicky or the other type of business she’s deeply invested in.

“Damnit,” Morello curses. "I think Tricia's ignoring my fucking phone calls."

"Let me try," Alex volunteers. She dials on her phone and puts it on speaker. 

Tricia picks up almost immediately. "Hey Vause, w’sup?"

Lorna reaches across the table and grabs Alex's wrist, pulling the phone closer to her. "Oh, so you ignore my twenty calls, but answer Vause on the second ring?"

“Yo, you aren’t dumb, Morello,” Tricia replies. “You know whose side we’re all on.”

Morello’s fingers slip away from Alex’s wrist and she falls back into her seat with a defeated thump. Her eyes go to the wine on the table, but she grabs the serving spoon instead and digs right into the mac and cheese.

“Tricia, where’s Nicky?” Alex demands to know. “Screw your bullshit code of honor. This is bigger than dyke drama. Nicky could seriously get hurt or seriously hurt herself.”

“I don’t know, man. She took like a grand out from behind the creepy ass mermaid painting and left. I asked if she wanted me to go with, but she knew I got this test I really need to pass.”

“Shit,” Alex curses. “Keep me posted if you hear from her or if she heads back there.”

“Sure thing, Vause.”

“And stop being an ass to Lorna,” Alex says sharply. “She’s our friend too.”

Piper’s phone buzzes with an update from Gossip Girl and despite everything that’s happening, it’s an automatic reaction to swipe her finger across the screen and pulls up the app.

*

Looking for a special treat to cap off your Thursday evening? I’ve got just the scoop for you. Zero calories and a hundred-percent scandal. Looks like our life of the party lezzy is back to her gluttonous ways. Seconds ago, N posted this delicious tweet for the world to see…

Embedded below is a screenshot of a tweet straight from Nicky’s Twitter with the tweet:

WHERE THE FUCK CAN A POOR LIL RICH GIRL SCORE SOME DRUGS HUH?????

Just under it is a second screencap of a reply from a random with directions to a warehouse party.

If money makes the world go round and diamonds are forever, then addictions are never over. Be careful, N. We wouldn’t want to lose you to “Fat Camp” Part 2.

*

“Stupid fucking idiot!” Alex shouts angrily. She starts dialing her phone, practically stabbing the screen with each press of her finger. “Nichols, this isn’t fucking funny! Tell me that tweet is bullshit. Piper, Lorna and I are here worrying about your stupid fucking idiot ass! Call me back." 

Alex ends the call and forces herself to sit down when it really looks like she’d rather be pacing or kicking the shit out of anything within reach. Piper taps her feet against the ground and tries to search for a bright side while Morello continues to shovel mac and cheese into her mouth, forgetting what a napkin is or what it’s used for, forgetting table manners entirely.

“At least Nicky…spelled most of everything correctly?” Piper says. “She can’t be too impaired if her spelling is on point, right?”

After taking a deep breath that makes her shoulders rise and fall, Alex pries the spoon out of Morello’s hand and pushes the platter of mac and cheese to the other end of the table.

“Alright, Lorna, I need you to keep it together. We are going to this party and you aren’t drinking tonight because I don’t need mac and cheese and Long Island Iced Tea all over the leather seats,” Alex decides. “Pipes, you don’t have to come with this time. Lorna and I have it covered from here. I can text you updates or you could probably just check that stupid Gossip Girl thing.”

It doesn’t sound like a challenge like it might be on any other night and concerning any other person in the world. Alex really does seem more concerned about Nicky than flirting with Piper and something about that is even more alluring.

“No, I want to,” Piper insists. “For Nicky.”

*

Alex has been to the Morello house on a number of occasions, but never inside. Usually it’s to drop her off, sitting with Nicky in the car at ungodly hours, barely able to contain their laughter as they watch (and record) a tipsy Lorna trying to sneak in undetected. It’s the kind of neighborhood where everyone knows everyone and there are always people hanging out on their stoops and kids playing in the streets. Alex can’t help, but notice how uncomfortable Piper seems with her surroundings. 

“You know, it’s okay to breath.” Alex takes a dramatic breath just for show. “See. I’m fairly sure it’s oxygen. We’re in Brooklyn, not Mars.”

Piper narrows her eyes and playfully shoves Alex’s knee as they sit on the Morello family’s stoop. Alex smiles behind her cell phone as Piper tucks strands of her hair behind her ears. It isn’t lost on either of them how it sounds like utter chaos inside the townhouse. Screaming. Shouting. Shit breaking. Piper keeps looking over her shoulder, but bites her tongue while Alex has other things that need her attention.

“I have all my people on alert,” Alex announces. She sets it on the step between them. If Nicky calls (which is purely wishful thinking, Alex knows) it’ll be more obvious than in her pocket. “If any of them even think about selling to Nicky they might as well skip town now.”

“How do you do that?”

“Do what?”

Piper’s pink lips part, but then she reconsiders. “No…never mind. Forget I said anything.”

Alex sits a little taller and angles toward Piper. “No, I want to know.”

“Just…how are you so adamant about stopping Nicky from doing drugs again when you fuel a thousand other people’s addiction?”

The question hits her like a slap across the face, but Alex doesn’t react with anger, more surprise than anything. Piper seems to assume the former and leans away.

“You really want to question my moral compass right now?” Alex asks with a lofty laugh. “After we, oh, admitted to being in relationships with other people and then made out in Nicky’s closet? In that order, I might point out.”

Piper nods and takes a slow, silent breath. “I was wondering when that would come up,” she murmurs beneath her breath. “So, how is your girlfriend?”

“Needy, wondering why I’m being so distant, anticipating a break up,” Alex replies. “How’s your boyfriend? Other than clueless.”

“He’s good.”

Alex is known for finding tense silences amusing and showing it with a smirk, but she has bigger concerns than whatever the fuck is happening between her and the lovechild of Cher from Clueless and Susan B. Anthony.

“I’ve known Nicky for a while,” Alex says quietly. “I knew her back when she was strung out all the time. I never judged her then and I didn’t judge her when she came to me post-detox and said she needed me to help her stay away from heroin. Now that’s what I’m doing. Because I may work for an international drug cartel, but I’m also Nicky’s friend and she’s always been a good one to me. Now, can we drop this almost dyke drama whatever and focus on Nicky?”

“Okay.”

Alex grabs for her cell phone again and hits the power button just to see no new calls or texts. As silence settles between them yet again, the boisterous Italian voices engaging in a screaming match become even more apparent.

“We should give Gossip Girl something to talk about other than Nicky,” Piper muses. She pulls out her phone and opens the camera, holding it out to snap a selfie with Alex grinning over her shoulder. “I’m Instagram-ing with the location set to Brooklyn.”

“What a rebel,” Alex teases. “Your family won’t see it and flip out?”

“The only time my dad ever uses a computer is to check the stock market and my mom has a personal assistant to do all her Googling for her. Eliqua and I have an agreement that what mom doesn’t know won’t hurt her.” Piper grins as she slides through photo filters. “I’m referring to you as hashtag-Rockabilly-Babe, by the way.”

“You should also hashtag Thirsty Thursday.”

Piper laughs in a yeah-right way and shows Alex the filter she chose. “Do you like corn tortillas or flour better for quesadillas?” Piper asks out of the blue, maybe to keep the conversation flowing, maybe because she legitly would like an answer. “I have to make quesadillas for this multicultural week fair at school tomorrow.”

“Wow. That was like the biggest kind of problems you had to deal with before you started hanging out with us, huh? Multicultural week at school. Corn or flour tortillas? Does this Instagram filter make me look like I’m from Jersey? What will Gossip Girl think if I wore—gasp—Toms to school?”

Piper gives her a look over, probably taking in Alex’s voice full of mockery, but hopefully noticing her amused smile.

“Pretty much,” Piper replies. “But I’m choosing to be here, to make all of your problems and Nicky’s and Morello’s mine because we’re friends.”

“Is that all you want to be, Piper Chapman?” Alex tilts her head to one side. “Friends?”

The front door rattles and when Piper literally jumps, Alex looks to the ground and smiles. Lorna walks out, wearing an insanely tiny, form-fitting blue dress with her bra straps showing and patchwork heels. She puts everything she has into slamming the door behind her. Lorna glares hard at the door and flips it off just for good measure.

“Careful, shortie, you might hurt the door’s feelings,” Alex jokes. Just like that, all the tension between Piper and her dissolves. It’s like it was never there, another one of Alex’s talents. “Jesus, I’m starting to see why you’re always over at Nicky’s.”

“Alright, time to go! My brother was talkin’ about askin’ you to his prom again, Vause, ” Lorna says. “Oh, and Chapman, I got you a little something, thought you might not wanna go to a party in your school uniform.” She drops a brown paper American Apparel bag in Piper’s lap. “It’s my sister’s. You’re way thinner than Franny, but shouldn’t be too bad. I don’t think you’ll look like a meerkat in a grocery bag.”

“Thank you, Morello,” Piper says. “How, um, thoughtful?”

Alex and Lorna sit up front in the silver sports car as Piper attempts to change in the backseat. When they come to a red light, Lorna leans forward to fiddle with the radio, searching for something other than commercials to listen to, while Alex can’t help the way her eyes drift to the rearview mirror.

“Eyes up front, Vause,” Piper barks.

Even after being caught and called out, Alex lets her eyes linger for a second longer, makes eye contact with Piper through the mirror, before she averts her eyes. It only makes her smile even more where she notices Lorna grinning and shaking her head out of her peripherals.

*

Spotted—more like announced: Our Queen P is up to her mysterious ways yet again with the equally mysterious Rockabilly Babe. Like the nickname, P? The first bite’s free. The second might cost you. The last time these two were spotted in questionable parts beyond the kingdom’s walls, N was leading the way. And where is she now? Picking up a few party favors maybe?  

Here’s a late #TBT in honor of current events…

The photo that follows is a grainy one, but Nicky’s wild head of hair is unmistakable. Her limp body is on a stretcher as two paramedics get her into the back of an ambulance.

*

The warehouse party is literally in a warehouse in Brooklyn. Piper should have expected as much. What she didn’t expect was to see so many faces from school, Constance Billard girls free of their uniforms, donning red, yellow, or green glow sticks, grinding on hot bodies with laser lights dancing overhead. They split up to cover more ground except Alex kind of sticks to Piper’s side, well, behind her, towering over her really, probably enjoying the view of Piper in the little sequin number that rivals the five disco balls hanging from the overhead beams.

Familiar faces come into view, shouting at each other, weaving back and forth between English and Spanish, hanging out in the back against a cinderblock wall covered in glow in the dark paint and other questionable substances revealed beneath blacklight.

“You have a fucking baby!” Flaca shouts at her much shorter former best friend, who also happens to be her former classmate. “What do you think you’re doing here instead of taking care of it, dumbass?”

“The fuck are you doing here judging me and shit!” Maritza puts her hand to her ear, listening dramatically. “This is house music, not your fucking British pussy music.”

Flaca narrows her eyes and shoves Maritza, sending the petite girl flying. She stumbles back into the father of her child that Piper recognizes from the accidental party at Nicky’s. He tries to steady the girl who just shoves off of him and charges at Flaca. Before she even realizes what she’s doing, Piper steps in to pull Maritza off of Flaca, who’s already trying to grab a handful of the teen mom’s hair. Alex follows suit and they manage to pull the two girls off of each other.

“What are you doing?” Piper shouts. “You’re best friends!”

“Not anymore,” Flaca says, with a deadly look in her eyes. “Shit changes. People change.”

Maritza rolls her eyes dramatically and flips her hair as she walks off, disappearing into the crowd. Flaca stares after her with anger still in her eyes, but also loss and maybe a little regret. Piper would hate to ruin her moment of reflection, but every second counts if they’re going to stop Nicky from doing something stupid.

“Um, Flaca,” Piper says gently. “I’m sorry to interrupt your…yeah, but have you seen Nicky around here?”

Flaca turns to her and everything that was on her face seconds ago is nowhere in sight. The dark-haired girl juts out her hip with an expectant expression. “What you got for me this time, Chapman?”

“Seriously?” Piper throws her hands up. “I’m just asking a simple question!” Flaca doesn’t respond, just look at her with eyes that probably eat souls. “Okay, I’ll take over your shift at the Spanish Club booth tomorrow.”

“Gracias,” Flaca says pleasantly. “By the way, did you make your dish already? My mom is making tamales, but I signed up for dip. That’s cool, right?”

“No, not cool!” Piper nearly stomps her foot, but resists with practiced restraint. “We made the sign-up sheet weeks ago! A sign-up sheet in an Excel spreadsheet no less is a binding contract! Plus, Polly signed up for tamales.”

Flaca crosses her arms and purses her black-painted lips. “You think white girl can make better tamales than mi madre?”

 “Okay!” Piper gives in immediately. “I’ll text Polly and tell her to bring dip instead.”

“Yeah, Nichols was around,” Flaca says, nodding to the mostly dark, crazy crowded warehouse. “Girl was not messing around. She asked Ian for only the purest shit, the crystals that almost look like meth, pure MDMA, no cut, will mess you up for a good eight to twelve hours, but he was out. He sold her a couple capsules instead, maybe an hour ago. Your friend looked like she could use a happy high and quick. I wouldn’t expect her to share.”

“Which way did she go?” Alex interrupts.

“The fuck am I supposed to know,” Flaca replies, eyeing Alex suspiciously. “Shit, you’re tall.”

“She left,” says a voice with a thick Southern accent. Just as Piper turns to look behind her, Alex slides in front of her and squares her shoulders in a protective manner. “Nichols went off with another of your perverse-ed head fucked kind, hand in hand in sin, probably gonna go lesbian each other in the stairwell.”

“Don’t you have a Bible studies class or a crackhouse calling, Pennsatucky?” Alex asks coolly. Piper and Flaca trade looks before the Latina fixes the glowing red bracelet on her wrist and walks away with the dismissive wave of her hand.

“Sounds like you answered your own question,” Pennsatucky replies. When the petite girl grins, Piper has to grind her own pearly whites together to keep from reacting with horror. “Nichols and her new girlie friend were asking around for Mendez.”

“Mendez?” Piper repeats. “As in?”

“George Mendez,” Alex says, not happy at all. “Everyone calls him Pornstache.”

*

“She’s a fucking recovering addict!” Lorna slams her fist against a table of red, yellow and green glow sticks, making them rattle around. “Why would you sell her weed?" 

Poussey, who has multiple glowing green bracelets up and down her arms and glowing body paint on her face, looks from side to side as if unsure if Lorna is talking to her or is pissed off at someone else entirely. “Yo, it ain’t like I sold her smack. Cannabis can help with depression, pain management, psychosis and according to recent studies, it’s linked with a reduction in Alzheimer.”

“Pot’s a fucking gateway drug! You can’t deny that.” Lorna isn’t buying any of Poussey’s trademark sly shit. “Fucking salesman. You’re worse than my uncle Tony down at the used car lot.”

“Salesperson,” Taystee says from beside Poussey, wagging a finger at Lorna who is not having it. “Saying da ganja is a ‘gateway drug’ is like saying if you drink water you’ll move on to hooch because they’re both wet! One of them crackheads just got finished telling me God made weed unlike man-made chemically composed cigarettes like the ones Nichols is lighting up all the time. So which is better?”

“Dunno if you haven’t noticed, Morello, probably too busy mooning over your bagpipe boy,” Poussey says, “but Nichols smokes up all the time, man. Yo, chill.”

“Except I’ve seen Nicky high and when she’s high she’ll go lookin’ for a higher high if Vause or I ain’t around to shove a box of Little Debbie oatmeal pies and a bottle of water in her hands so your studies don’t apply and you can shove ‘em.”

“Alright, I’m sorry, okay?” Poussey narrows her eyes and runs her fingers over her miniature mohawk. “Damn! I came out to have a good time and I’m honestly feeling so attacked right now.”

“Easy there, Morello. Your girl only bought a dime sack,” Taystee says. “And she had some chick hanging all over her per ushe. If she shares, how much trouble could they get into?”

It doesn’t surprise Lorna that Nicky’s with someone, some girl nonetheless. Nicky always has someone, sometimes a few someones with her. There are always people trying to get into her wallet if they aren’t trying to get into her pants. And the most infuriating part is that Nicky’s smart enough to see through fake ass people, but she’s too jaded to care. That’s why Lorna likes Alex and Piper and their presence in Nicky’s life. One works in the drug world and is too smart to let using get between her and the hustle. The other is too good to get into hardcore, scary shit. Above all, both don’t care about money because they already have it.

As Lorna pushes her way through the crowd of strangers, lost among the faceless figures and disorienting lights, she can’t help, but think, like really think about things. She’s always been the type to keep on moving, keep busy from day to day as to not think about what’s really happening around her and what it all means. Truth be told, Lorna spends more time worrying about Nicky than she lets on, especially at parties like this, ones with limitless liquor and easy access to drugs.

It probably sounds crazy, but the only reason Lorna applied for the waitress position at Dmitri’s is because Christopher works at his family’s antique shop across the street. Not to stalk him or anything like that, just to increase the possibility that they’d run into one another. Plus, a job is an excuse for her to get out of the house and having a little extra cash is nice too.

Lorna met Nicky her first day on the job. Nicky, who works in the kitchen with Gina and Norma, prepping, but also comes out to wait on tables, who always has her sleeves rolled up to her elbows and acts tough, but looks anything but with all that hair stuffed into a hairnet. Nicky showed Lorna the ropes and took the blame (and the pay cut) when Lorna stumbled and broke a whole tray of dishes and wasted hot food. Nicky helped her clean it up, smirked, said everyone did it when they first started, a sort of initiation, and at least Red was in the backroom at the time, having an important meeting with her husband and sketchy men in suits.

After a month of working together, while closing and cleaning up, Nicky told Lorna about her past with heroin and that every day since has been a struggle. She also told Lorna about how she surrounds herself with people all the time, creating a family to compensate for the blood relatives who want nothing to do with her. That same night, Nicky invited Lorna to chill at her loft, a small get-together that quickly turned into a rager.

When they were both buzzed and watching Boo mercilessly hit on teenage girls, Nicky turned to Lorna and said, “I don’t care if you start hanging out with me just ‘cause I’m rich, that’s fine, just don’t lie to me.”

And Lorna remembers thinking that yeah, she had been impressed with Nicky’s loft and how she walked around the city with hundreds in her wallet—that crazy person—but that wasn’t the reason Lorna spent her work breaks laughing as Nicky smoked a cigarette and told her a crazy partying story, instead of walking back and forth in front of Christopher’s shop like she would have if they weren’t friends. She remembers wanting to articulate all that somehow, but only managed a drunken, bubbly nod.

“Hey!”

When she feels a hand on her shoulder, Lorna quickly turns and finds Christopher. Christopher, the talented, incredible object of Lorna Morello’s unrequited affection, the Christopher who wears a knit sweater and loafers to a warehouse party and has a yellow glow stick bracelet around his wrist that Lorna can’t stop staring at. He has a crushed beer can in his hand and when someone bumps him from behind he falls into Lorna, nearly knocking the much smaller girl to the ground.

“Shit, my bad,” he slurs. 

“No, no, no, it’s fine!” Lorna shouts nervously. “I’m fine. You’re…fine.”

“I know you! You’re the girl at all of our shows!” he shouts over the music. “You’re a fan, right?" 

“Um, yeah,” Lorna says quietly. “That’s me!”

“Awesome!” He touches her shoulder and Lorna feels like she’s going to combust in the middle of this crowded, disgusting warehouse. “You have to tell my drummer that my bagpipe solo on Car Bomb is the heart of the song! Come on! I need you to speak on behalf of our fanbase!”

“Lorna!”

She really does prefer to be called Morello, but Nicky (“Red calls you Lorna, why can’t I?”) and Alex (“What? It’s a cute little old lady name!”) are always the exceptions to every rule it seems. Lorna watches as Alex makes her way over, shoving a gross dude trying to dance up to her into a group of others without caring, barely even noticing. Her strength in every sense of the word is downright envy worthy.

“Lucky for you I’m so tall or else we’d never find you in here!” Alex shouts, before noticing Christopher and where his hand is still on Lorna’s arm. Annoyance flickers through her eyes. “Bagpipe.”

“Rude Record Store Girl.” Christopher points at her though his aim is off, which means he’s had quite a bit to drink. Alex’s gaze goes from annoyed to downright protective, which can only mean she noticed the yellow glow around his wrist as quickly as Lorna did. “Y’know, you’d probably sell more if you weren’t such a music snob.”

“Your band is shit. We aren’t going to play your demo in the store. The end.”

Christopher scoffs. “Touchy." 

“So,” Alex says, “trouble in paradise with your John Shena girlfriend?”

Of course Alex has to ruin this moment for Lorna by mentioning that little detail that doesn’t fit into her jigsaw puzzle of a perfect, beautiful future. What else are friends for?

“She isn’t here. We got into a little…” Christopher catches himself, stares sadly at the glow stick bracelet for a second, before turning his foggy, angry gaze to Alex. “I don’t see how that’s any of your business.”

“Well, good fucking luck with that!” Alex shouts, though her tone sounds more like eat shit, asshole. “Lorna, we gotta go! Piper and I have a lead on Nicky!" 

Lorna focuses on Christopher who looks so lost and vulnerable, like a poor baby animal that’s been separated from its mother. She presses her teeth into her bottom lip for a second before letting it go and moving aside so Christopher’s hand falls back down to his side. The loss of his touch against her bare skin is almost enough to make her reconsider, but not quite.

“I’m sorry,” Lorna says. “My friend needs me right now. But I’ll see you at your next show, I promise! Oh, and you look really nice in that sweater!” 

Christopher looks down at his sweater as Lorna follows Alex with sunken shoulders. Alex has the biggest smile on her face as she wraps her long arm around her short friend and pulls her into her side.

Alex bows her head to accommodate the major high difference and nearly shouts in Lorna’s ear. “For the record, I would have kicked your tiny Italian ass right in front of your fantasy Ken doll if you decided to go with him!”

“And disappoint my favorite jolly rockabilly giant?” Lorna gasps. “Never!”

Alex laughs. “Come on! Let’s go find our favorite former junkie wifey!” 

“Before we do that we might have to rescue Chapman.”

Lorna points across the way to where Piper is standing extremely still, glittering like a human disco ball every time the lights catch the sequin of her dress. She looks extremely uncomfortably as Boo circles her like a shark, doing a little dance that can only be interpreted as some sort of mating ritual. Alex curses under her breath and nearly sprints over while Lorna pulls out her phone and takes pictures, thinking Nicky would probably get a kick out of it.

*

Piper expects them to meet this Pornstache character in the back of a seedy bodega or in a mostly deserted parking structure, but no, they head to the Eastern Athletics Club right in Brooklyn. They stake out the entrance and Piper takes the time to read through the comments on her Instagram picture with Alex, picks up on Polly’s passive aggressive use of emojis and Larry’s earnestness when he asks when he’s finally going to meet the Alex he’s heard so much about. (The “much” totally does not include the whole works for an international drug cartel detail, obviously.)

Piper likes Larry. He’s sweet and good to her and her parents love him. His father is a high power lawyer, his mother a housewife who maybe has a little too much time on her hands and spends it fawning over her son. Larry’s the kind of boy she should be dating. Though Piper knows all of this to be fact and makes her feel bad about making out with a hot upper management drug dealer in a closet, that doesn’t mean she wouldn’t do it again. Piper stays up almost every night wondering if this makes her a bad person. Yes, her sleep cycle is totally fucked up.  

Finally, George Mendez waltzes out of the gym wearing a polo shirt, tiny shorts, socks up to his knees and a sweatband, resting a racket on his shoulder. He’s around their age, maybe a year or two older. Most know him on sight if not by name. Mendez is always stalking different high school handouts like a vulture, preying on the weak, naive and addicted. He got the nickname "Pornstache" because he's had a mustache since he was eleven and is oh so proud of it. 

"What can I do for you, ladi—Shit! Vause! Bitch, this is out of your territory!"

"Fuck territory," Alex spits. "This is personal."

Mendez heads back to the entrance, but Alex leaps into action, yet again reinforcing the Amazon comparison. She grabs Mendez by the neck and steers him back down the street and around the corner into the nearest alley. Mendez tries to fight out of her grip and it just results in Alex shoving him into a brick wall face first.  

"Kubra sure knows how to pick 'em, huh?" Mendez laughs. Alex grabs him by the hair on the back of his head and shoves his face harder into the wall. "Okay! Okay! Okay! The fuck do you want from me?"

"We can make this as quick and painless as possible if you agree to cooperate," Alex says calmly. "Did you sell to Nichols?"

"Yes." 

Alex drags him around to face her and punches him in the nose. Piper flinches, covers her mouth with her hand, while Morello watches intently, tiny hands balled into fists. 

"What?" Mendez shouts, holding his bloody nose. "I basically support my family. My ma doesn’t exactly have it easy. Not to mention gym membership isn't cheap and exercise clothes? Why are they so fucking expensive when they're just going to get ruined faster than regular clothes?"

Morello steals his squash racket right out of his loose grip and hits him with it. Hard. "You know she has a history!"

"I also know she was willing to pay whatever to get her and her slutty little lesbian lover a fix!" Mendez shouts back. "Be careful with that, would ya? It's a Dunlop Aerogel! One of the top-rated squash rackets in the game!"

"Tell us everything," Alex says. "How did she seem, what did you sell her, where was she headed?"

"She seemed like a junkie, antsy, couldn't keep still, didn't even try to haggle me. Very agreeable and we all know that isn't Nichols in the least. I sold her a couple bundles. The purity puts your shit to shame, Vause. And your girl paid for it, oh, yes she did. Fuck if I know where she went after."

Alex finally lets go of him with a shove. "Real helpful, Pornstache."

"If you ask me, that one's a lost cause, Vause. You can swim with sharks, but once there's blood in the water..." Mendez makes a snarling “shark” sound. "A junkie is always going to be a junkie. You've made tons of 'em. Don't expect too much from Nichols." 

"Hit him again, Lorna," Alex says, pulling out her phone to record it.

Piper can almost hear Nicky's cackle in her head, do it for the Vine! The fact that she isn't here with them, safe and sober, just makes Piper angry.

Morello whacks him with the racket one last time before Mendez finally recovers and rips it away from her. He's about to backhand Morello when Alex steps between them and he stops. There's a weight behind her eyes, behind her name and status in the underworld. Messing with Alex Vause is nearly the same thing as messing with her boss, Kubra, something that doesn’t happen, an unwritten rule a low level dealer called Pornstache even respects. 

Alex takes the racket, breaks it and throws it at his feet. "If I were you I'd think again before trying to sell to Nichols. If you do, worse will happen to you, I promise."

As they walk back to the car, Mendez shouts, "cunt!" 

“You aren’t gonna respond to that?” Morello asks. She keeps sneaking looks over her shoulder, anticipating retaliation that never comes. Piper does the same while Alex keeps her eyes forward and unlocks her car with a click.  

“I might not respond right now, but I’m not going to forget either,” Alex replies. “Not by a long shot.” 

After sitting in Alex’s car for a while, trying to figure out the next step in their game plan, they end up going back to the warehouse where the number of partygoers seemed to have tripled. They go to ask around, try to see if anyone knows the identity of the "lesbian lover" who went looking to buy heroin with Nicky. It's a mostly fruitless effort when most of the room is either sloppy drunk or tripping hard on one thing or another.

Piper would rather not attempt to navigate the place that’s packed from wall to wall. She mostly hangs out on the VIP balcony and texts Polly, who isn’t happy about the menu change for the fair tomorrow and even unhappier about covering for Piper again when Piper won’t tell her what she’s doing. With Gossip Girl’s continuous updates, basically reposting and picking apart Nicky’s tweets, Polly can probably guess what Piper is up to. Piper just tells her to trust her, but honestly, she isn’t too sure how long that’s going to last.

It’s always been a struggle for Piper to try and understand Polly’s enduring hatred towards Nicky. Piper doesn’t understand how anyone can hate Nicky Nichols. Sure, Nicky can be crude and forward and she is the reason everyone called Polly “Polly Pocketsize Tits” for years, but Nicky never does it maliciously and she’s dependable while often giving very good life advice. Well, then again, there was the whole Cotillion incident, but Nicky couldn’t help herself, not really.

Polly is always so quick to point out how Piper is always making excuses for Nicky’s fuckups and maybe that’s true, but it’s also true that she’s going to be there for Nicky no matter how deep into the rabbit hole it leads her. After seeing how Flaca and Maritza are, how quickly two people can go from best friends to screaming at each other at sketchy parties, Piper hates the idea of her friendship with Polly suffering because of her friendship with Nicky and Nicky’s world, but she doesn’t feel like she’s in the wrong place either.

And of course that’s when Piper spots Flaca and Maritza giggling and grinding together as if nothing happened and her mouth falls open in shock. Then again, maybe some friendships are just volatile by nature and enduring at their core. Piper honestly doesn’t know if she has that with Polly, she hopes, but can’t know for sure.

Morello walks over with two bottles of water and hands one to Piper, saving her from her internal obsessing. 

"Thanks," Piper says, twisting the cap off. "Any luck?” 

“No one’s talkin’ to me,” Morello replies with a strangled laugh. “Gossip Girl’s doin’ it all wrong, relying on Nichols' Twitter and tips from other rich kids. The real dirt’s all in the streets. Nicky and Tricia got to everyone first.” 

Piper frowns and looks out over the masses in the dark. “So is this a regular thing?" 

"What? The party? Not regular," Morello replies, seemingly happy for the topic change. "We mostly go to clubs or house parties or just hang out at the loft." Morello motions to the sea of bodies that are only distinguishable by the glow sticks on their wrists. "F’you were wonderin’, red glow stick bracelets mean taken, green single and yellow means it's complicated. What's your color, Chapman?"

"Red," Piper replies. She inwardly cringes when she hears the forced conviction in her voice. She looks out over the crowd and when she realizes she’s hoping to see a head of dark hair and sexy glasses, she visibly deflates. "Maybe yellow?"

“S’okay, I won’t tell on ya.” Morello presses her lips into a smile and nods enthusiastically. "Did it scare you earlier? The business with Pornstache?"

"You going all Bruce Lee on his ass? No, the jerk deserved it."

Morello smiles proudly and, okay, she's really sweet and adorable and it gets a little more obvious every second why Nicky is always talking about her or at least, how Nicky did before. Piper gets that other people are icing Morello out to show their loyalty to Nicky, but it’s crazy to think someone wouldn’t like this girl in a casual or friendly way. Morello actually makes Piper feel like she could maybe fit into this world.  

"Thank, hon,” Morello says, “but I meant Vause doing what Vause does."

Piper leans against the balcony railing and stares out as the gears in her head kick into overdrive. "I feel like I should be scared, but I'm not. The more I see the worse it gets, but the more I get to know Alex, I don't hate what I see. I've never been attracted to girls before this either, but she makes me think maybe I am or could be?" 

"Nothing wrong with that. I've seen her with girls before, a serial monogamist for sure, but I've never seen her so smitten." Just as a guy handing out glow sticks comes up the stairs, Morello grabs a yellow one. She fiddles with it for a moment before Piper catches her eye and she slyly clips it around Piper's wrist. "To remember me by."

"What does that mean?"

“Like I said, yellow means it’s complicated so it fits ya, right?”

“No, why would I need something to remember you by?”

Lorna tries to shrug like it isn't a big deal, nervously twisting her hips from side to side. "Tricia did have a point. Things are gonna be awkward from here on out and you and Vause are gonna take Nicky’s side. You need to take Nicky’s side. She needs you to. I need you to for my pace of mind, y’know?”

Peace of mind, Piper corrects in her head, but doesn’t mention aloud. She’s too busy debated if she should say something to Lorna, just like when they first met, but now that they’ve hung out a few times, traded numbers, are Facebook friends and mutual follows on Twitter, she decides it’s probably okay to say it. 

“Nicky needs you too.”   

“No.” Morello shakes her head, looking so sad and maybe a little scared. “I can’t give her what she wants.” 

“No, but you can give her what you can,” Piper insists. “That’s what friendship is, giving the people we care about what we can without expectations or ultimatums. I can’t speak for Nicky, but if I know her, she isn’t going to throw away your friendship just like that. And if she tries to, you shouldn’t let her.” 

Morello stares at Piper, then nods and smiles in a way that makes her face crinkle and she really is adorable. “You’re alright, Chapman. You’re alright.” 

Piper isn’t too sure what that means for the future of their little messed up club (family), but she’ll take it.

*

Nicky doesn’t know where she is or what she’s doing. She just wants to go to sleep, something she hasn’t been doing much in the last few days. She just wants to dive into her bed, burrow between the goose feather pillows and Egyptian cotton sheets, but can’t because she’s walking down a dark street in Queens with some chick under her arm, a long way from her comfy bed. Before she even realizes it, she’s walking into Dmitri’s and a “We’re closed!” is flying at her before she gets two steps inside. 

“Is that any way to greet your favorite daughter?” Nicky asks in return.

Red, the badass Russian matriarch with red hair styled in a way that kind of emulates actual fire, stops stacking chairs and looks Nicky right in the eyes. “Are you high?”

“I wish it were that simple, mom.”

Red’s expression softens at the sight of Nicky, probably looking so pathetic and weak, but not for very long. Her tough bitch front reassembles when she realizes they aren’t alone. There’s a girl glued to Nicky’s side, asking in a hushed whisper why the fuck she would think to bring her to meet her mom and what about the drugs they were going to do. Red dusts off her hands and walks closer, rolling up her sleeves as she does. 

“Daughter of mine, are you going to introduce me to your friend?”

Nicky looks from Red to the girl and, shit, what is her name? All Nicky can remember is wanting to call her Morello when they were making out on the train. Several seconds pass and when Nicky doesn’t respond, Red makes a sound of exasperation and impatience.

“You, young lady, go,” Red says sternly.

The girl looks to Nicky, who just shrugs as if to say, eh, mother knows best. The girl scoffs and holds out her hand. “Aren’t you going to at least give me cab fare for bringing me all the way out to Queens? I thought you fucking lived on the Upper East Side!” 

Nicky doesn’t argue or correct her, just hands over two crisp hundred-dollar bills to shut the girl up more than anything. Red shakes her head as the girl leaves through the front door. Nicky follows afterward, locking the front door and drawing the shades over the windows. She then goes to the corner of the room where she knows the restaurant’s surveillance cameras don’t catch. Nicky starts going through her pockets, pulls out a glass envelop of pills, a dime sack of weed and a number of small baggies of heroin rubber banded together, laying them out on a table.

“What the fuck, Nicky? Why would you bring this shit into my restaurant!”

“You need to take it because I’ll do it if you don’t.” Nicky grits her teeth, can already feel her eye twitching. She keeps her trembling hands in the pockets of her leather jacket and tries to fight the jittering. “I’d probably do all of it at the same time if you don’t take it away.”

Red studies her for what feels like a solid minute. “So you aren’t high?”

“I thought about it, obviously. I just wanted to feel good after such a shit last few days so I bought the molly, but then I thought, no, I don’t need to be any more amped after I drank all those fucking Monsters and smoked a shit ton of cigarettes. So then I thought weed, you know, to calm the fuck down. Then after I bought that, I’m sitting, staring at it all like, why bother with second-string bitches? And I got, well…” 

Nicky motions to the heroin, the heavy hitter, the best girlfriend she’s ever had. She may not be able to have her first choice with the ruby red lips, but she can always have her first choice in powder form. 

“What happened?”

“I just told you, Red. I’m an impulse shopper.”

“No, I mean what happened in the last few days?” Red grabs a chair that’s hanging halfway off the table and sets it on the floor, motioning Nicky closer. “You aren’t like this for no reason. Sit. Tell me."  

Nicky does as she’s told and sits, but she doesn’t start explaining right away. As she waits, Red practices a little patience, gets Nicky a cup of coffee and warms a few of the pastries left in the bakery’s display case. Red sits across from Nicky and doesn’t say a word as the lost, hurt seventeen-year-old sips her coffee, picks at a Khachapuri and finally spills her heart out onto the bakery floor, telling her mother figure all about how a pretty fucking straight girl broke her heart.

For the last few days, Nicky’s been wandering both mentally and physically. She couldn’t concentrate in school and found attending pointless so she stopped. The Nichols pay the family doctor enough to prescribe her mother Xanax on the fly; he surely won’t mind writing Nicky a doctor’s note for the flu. Most of her time has been spent sitting in parks and on rooftops, smoking and wondering why she has to be so fucked up. 

Why can’t I just like a hot lesbian girl? She asks herself. Why do I feel this constant need to surround myself with people yet still feel so empty and alone? What’s the point of living if the universe has been shitting on me ever since I was fucking born and my own mother could barely stand the sight of me? It’s just so much. Too fucking much.

“This is all your fault, you know,” Nicky says. “Why’d you gotta hire her?” 

Red chuckles, but her eyes are full of sympathy. “Because she’s pretty and good with people, perfect for front of the house, and I like her lipstick.”

“Well, I like a little more than that…” Nicky picks at a particularly difficult piece of dough stuck between her teeth. “I know none of this is Lorna's fault. I'm not mad at her. I'm the one who made things weird and, fuck, why am I like this? I swear I've never been like this over a chick before." 

“Because you're usually the one breaking hearts instead of getting your heart broken." 

"You don't gotta put it like that, Red." 

Red rubs her hand across Nicky's back. "You want me to arrange the schedule so you and Lorna never have to work the same shift ever again?" 

"Yes...no...I don't know." Nicky pushes her fingers through her hair, so clearly frustrated with herself. "It's like I sort of never want to see her ever again because I might die of embarrassment if I do, but the idea of never seeing her again makes me feel even worse. I can't even open texts from her. I just deleting 'em because no matter what they say, the fact is she was thinking about me when she hit send and knowing that makes me feel like I shoved my face in a tub of Pop Rocks."

"That's some crush."

"Such a fucking stupid word." Nicky groans and buries her face in her hands. "I just wish I didn't feel this way, you know? It would make life a hell of a lot easier." 

"It's life. It's not meant to be easy. Every single human being on the face of this earth has liked someone that did not like them back. Even you, Nicky Nichols, don't think you're immune." Red taps the tip of Nicky's nose and she scoffs, but smiles faintly. "You can't make someone love you in return, but that doesn't mean you're completely powerless to the universe. There are things in your life that you can control and you should take pride in that." 

They both look over at the stash of drugs in a neat little line. Nicky slowly stands, grabs each with a certain reverence to her actions and Red follows her to the bathroom. Nicky's hands shake as she takes each out of the packaging and dumps hundreds of dollars worth of drugs into the toilet. Nicky hesitates and her eye twitches even more so than before as she uses the bottom of her boot to flush. She doesn't take a breath until it swirls down and disappears completely. Red is a step behind with her hand on Nicky's shoulder, squeezing tightly. 

"Of all the places you could have ended up, I'm glad you ended up here," Red says. "You did good, Nicky. Oh, my daughter, you did so good." 

Red takes Nicky's face in her hands and looks deep into her eyes, eyes that have seen too much bad too young. Nicky will never know what Red sees in her, what she deems worth saving, but she's glad for it. Nicky takes in this triumph, basking in Red's strong, supportive presence as they embrace.  

Nicky's eyes snap open when she feels her pocket vibrating. She pulls her phone out and the photo accompanying the call is one of her and Lorna sitting together, wearing their Dmitri’s uniforms. Nicky’s eyes are unfocused off in the distance, looking like she would rather be anywhere else at the moment while Lorna makes the silliest (most fucking adorable) face possible. 

"She's been calling nonstop," Nicky mutters, rubbing at her eyes. 

Red takes the phone and answers it. "Lorna, it's Red. Nicky's here, she's with me at the restaurant." Red pauses a moment, listening to Lorna respond. Something changes in her expression, softens. "Okay, I'll make sure she gets home safe… Yes, I'll drive her home, yes, when she's ready. Now, go to sleep, you have school tomorrow."  

Red ends the call and gives the phone back.

"She cares about you," Red says. "Deeply. It might not be the kind of love you want, but it's love nonetheless. If you ask me, it's something worth having."

Nicky leans into Red, who wraps her arm around her. 

"You know I consider you one of my own and I love you, even more than my idiot sons most of the time, but you're crazy if you think I'm going to fire that girl because of your little crush gone wrong. She actually listens unlike someone else I know…” 

“Thanks, ma,” Nicky says with a scoff. After a moment though, Nicky leans into her even more and her voice goes hoarse, sounding almost vulnerable. “Really, thank you, mommy. I love you too.”

*

There are a handful of people who know where Nicky hides the spare key to her loft. Alex and Lorna are at the top of the list. After talking to Red, instead of doing as the older woman says, the girls agree to back to Nicky’s. It’s not like any of them are going to be getting any sleep until they see that Nicky is okay with their own eyes. Before they do, they stop by a little Spanish market and buy ingredients to make quesadillas. 

“This Gossip Girl person needs a hobby,” Alex says. She’s sitting on the kitchen counter near the stove, Piper’s phone in her hand, scrolling through the infamous site. “This has to be grounds for stalking. Does Gossip Girl also know every single time each of you takes a shit?”

“Probably steals samples too,” Tricia adds with a laugh.

Piper scrunches her nose with disgust. “Okay, you two are disgusting. I’m trying to cook here!”

Alex hops down from the counter and walks up behind Piper, intending to investigate and look over what the blonde has working on the stove. When Alex extends her hand toward the frying pan, Piper swats her away.

“Alex, stop!” Piper cries out, always one for the dramatics without even realizing it. “You can’t fiddle with them! You’re only supposed to flip them once! I need to time how long they cook on each side!”

“Well, while you’re counting, they’re burning.” Alex easily leans over, sure to let her breasts graze Piper’s shoulder blade. Alex reaches into the pan and flips a quesadilla with her bare fingers. “Shit, that’s hot!”

“Of course it is,” Piper says matter-of-factly. “You can literally see the heat rising from the pan.”

“Not what I was talking about, kid.”

Piper doesn’t respond and undoubtedly starts to turn red. Lorna feels something of a smile on her lips as she observes them from the kitchen table because that whole exchange is just ridiculous and cute and so obviously on the cusp of something more. She doesn’t spend too long thinking on it because when Alex calls Piper “kid” it makes Lorna think of Nicky and how often she’d call her that. Crap, is that like a thing with the two of them? Is “kid” like a code word or a term of endearment above and beyond one you’d give a friend? Lorna would ask Alex, but not in front of Piper.

Instead, Lorna looks down at the table where Nicky’s Pre-Calculus book is, left untouched since Lorna shut it and suggested they take a break from homework days ago. Lorna has played that afternoon over and over again maybe a million times in her head, trying to figure out what she could have done differently. Not kissed Nicky back maybe? Lorna’s frown deepens, not wanting to think of that as an option and not wanting to explore why.

“Hey Chapman,” Tricia calls out, interrupting their little flirt fest in front of the stove. The girl with the platinum blonde cornrows sits at the breakfast bar, busy with a pen, writing test answers all up and down her forearms. “You go to school with Mercy, right?”

“Mercy?” Piper’s lips pull to one side. “I only know one Mercy. Mercy Val-du-to?” Tricia nods vigorously. “Yeah, we have Women Studies together.”

Alex snorts with laughter, the way one laughs at the punch line of a really funny joke. “You’re taking a Women Studies class?”

“Yes, it’s very informative and empowering,” Piper says defensively. “I seriously teared up when we screened Iron Jawed Angels.” She then turns her attention back to Tricia. “Why do you ask about Mercy?”

“Tricia’s got a big lesbian crush on Mercy,” Alex teases. “Despite my sage advice. I’m telling you, Miller, rich bitches like Mercy aren’t worth the effort.”

“Excuse you!” Piper shouts. “Just because we were born into families a little more well off than some others doesn’t mean—”

“I like how you automatically put yourself in the same category as Mercy,” Alex cuts in. “Mercy, the snatch tease who has some rich field hockey team captain boyfriend, but also leads Tricia on and got drunk and hooked up with Boo. ‘Hooked up’ being the polite term because gross.”

Piper chokes on her jalapeño quesadilla sauce, brows furrowing. “Mercy hooked up with…with—”

“Yo, Nicky calls Boo the lezzy Jabba the Hutt,” Tricia adds.

They all share a laugh and when the front door opens, Piper and Alex pause their flirting and Lorna snaps back to reality. Sometimes she can take walks through her head and venture so deep into her thoughts she’s afraid one day she might get lost on her way back. But now, here, she’s back in the present and her breath catches in her throat when she sees Nicky walk in, hair frizzier than usual, mascara smeared, so tired.

Alex is the first to approach her, marches right over and grabs Nicky by the chin, looking her right in the eyes. For a tense second that feels like forever, the room is completely silent except for the sizzling of quesadillas in the frying pan.

“You done? Can I have my face back now?” Nicky asks, shooting for humor like always. Alex gives her one last look and finally lets go. Nicky opens and closes her mouth, flexing her jaw. “Jeez, roughing me up, Vause? And with an audience? That a new kink of yours?”

“This isn’t a joke, Nichols,” Alex says. “Maybe if you answered your fucking phone once in a while! I thought you went AWOL! I had Operation Exorcism all locked and loaded!”

“Well, walking drug test, I’m sober, but I’d gladly hand over a piss sample.”

“Nicky!” Piper shouts. “I’m making quesadillas. Come be my guinea pig.”

The way Piper is looking at her is that of a puppy happy to see its human companion home at the end of a long workday. Her smile says everything that needs to be said, I’m glad you’re okay and here and aren’t high and I’m so proud. Nicky gives her a look in return that says shut up, but then she smirks as she walks through the kitchen, looking at the mess Piper is making and with Alex’s assistance.

“Those are some piss poor lookin’ quesadillas,” Nicky observes. Piper shoulders Nicky playfully, but also tenderly at the same time. “Sure thing, Chapman. Mexican food at one in the morning sounds delightful. I just need to fucking shower first.”

Nicky turns to Tricia, who has writing all over her arms, and clicks her tongue disapprovingly. “And what the hell do you think you’re doing? You’re supposed to write the answers on your thighs and wear a skirt! Have I taught you nothing?”

“Shit, that’s a good idea.” Tricia looks at her hands and then over at Nicky. “You good?”

“I haven’t been good since birth probably. I tore the shit outta that bitch’s vag, apparently,” Nicky says with a forced laugh. She glances over at Lorna, but doesn’t say anything just yet. Nicky then pats down her pockets, pulls out a crumpled carton of cigarettes and a lollipop. “Hey Morello.”

Nicky nods to the glass door that leads out to the terrace and Lorna slowly stands from the kitchen table, grabbing her pea coat from off the back of the couch and slipping it on. Nicky holds the lollipop out to Lorna just before they walk out the door together.

Lorna raises an eyebrow. “Marijuana sucker?”

“Unless you know something about Red that I don't. I swiped it off her desk at Dmitri’s.” Nicky twirls the lollypop stem between her fingers. “Looks like cherry.”

Lorna takes the lollipop and walks outside, fiddling with the wrapper and looking out at the surrounding buildings that extend out into the horizon. Nicky’s terrace has a gorgeous view of the city and is so high up that you can’t hear any of the street noise. So pretty and so quiet, so different from the world Lorna was born into. She sits at the little wooden picnic table and Nicky sits next to her, tapping her crushed box of cigarettes against her palm.

“I’ve officially been awake for twenty-four hours,” Nicky murmurs, more to herself than anything. “Shit. I think I stopped thinking straight seventy-two hours ago.”

“I can go,” Lorna says quickly, stuttering through it. “I just wanted to make sure you got home okay. I can go if you want. I was gonna catch a ride with Vause, but I got my MetroCard too.”

“At one in the morning? Are ya crazy? No.” Nicky shakes her head and rubs her eyes, knowing her makeup is already fucked anyway. “You have a right to be here as much as Tricia or any of the others. Bring heroin into my loft and you’re out. Screw me over and you’re out. Not digging my romantic advances because of your sexual orientation and Christopher obsession isn’t a good enough reason for eviction.”

“Nicky…”

“Wait, I’ve got something to say.” Nicky holds her hand up to stop her and Lorna nods, sticking the lollypop into her mouth to shut her up. Nicky takes the last cigarette out of the carton and nervously fiddles with it between her fingers. “Remember what I said to you that first night? We were sitting right here.”

“Not to lie to you,” Lorna replies with the lollypop between her cheek and teeth.

Nicky nods hard, tapping the end of her cigarette against the edge of the table that’s littered with scorch marks. “You know why I like you so much?”

Lorna shakes her head. “Honestly, I got no clue.”

Nicky’s lips pull to one side in a smirk that quickly disappears when she catches herself. “You’re just not a liar. At least, as far as I can tell you don’t lie to me. And you actually give a damn. Other than Vause and maybe Chapman, if I got trashed and said, hey, we should do some heroin, all of those others who show up on my doorstep for a party, they’d say, yeah, let’s go. You pay, Nichols. I’ll catch the next one…and never pay for shit ever. But not you and that’s how I know I can trust you.”

They’re quiet for a while and Lorna wishes they could hear the street noises below. The last few days aside, Lorna can’t remember a time where silence between Nicky and her had been anything less than comfortable. She doesn’t know what to say so she doesn’t say anything, resigned to her fate, tracing circles around the lollipop with her tongue.

“It sucks that you don’t wanna hook up because I have a sneaking suspicion that you’d be a decent lay, but it’d suck more to not hang out anymore,” Nicky says. Lorna can’t help the way she stares because this is the first time she’s ever seen Nicky Nichols less than her flirty, confident self. She’s seen her vulnerable before, especially in moments involving her mother, but never like this.  

“So,” Nicky says, “friends?”

Lorna smiles widely. “I wasn’t aware we stopped being friends.”

Nicky sets her cigarette between her lips, more relaxed now than seconds ago. “But I gotta warn you, friends doesn’t mean I’m gonna lie to you about your shitty essays."

“I wouldn’t dream of it! Just so you know, I got an A on that Grand Gatsby paper.”

“Great Gatsby!” Nicky shouts. “He’s great! Jesus, and this right here is everything wrong with the public school system! Your teacher probably thought, do I really wanna see Morello in summer school? Nah, I’ll just pass her.”

“Fuck you,” Lorna says, but it’s filled with affection and relief. “You know, you really scared me these last few days.”

“Yeah, well, I scared myself too,” Nicky mutters. “Red was surprisingly kind, but come our shift tomorrow night, Jesus, I’m probably in for it. On top of all that, she found out I’ve been feeding the leftovers to that one-eyed stray dog that hangs out behind Dmitri’s, which means we gotta be sneakier about it…yeah.”

And this is the part post-Nicky’s twitchy rambling where Lorna would hug her and nuzzle into her shoulder and Nicky would pretend she doesn’t need a hug or make a joke, but would never pull away. But things are different now, like something broke between them even though they’re sitting together, facing each other, desperate to act like nothing is different even though everything is. The silence dies when laughter from inside fills the air.

“What is Chapman even doing here?” Nicky asks.

“Making quesadillas. I’d say she’s half worried about ya and half jumping at the opportunity to spend time with Vause. It’s disgustingly cute is what it is.”

“Leave it to Vause to turn my existential crisis into a way to spend time with my lab partner.” Nicky laughs weakly. “And it sounds like it’s working. Who would’ve thought Piper Chapman, lost in transition lesbian? Yeah, if anyone can turn ‘em it’s Alex…” Nicky pulls a cheap, corner store plastic lighter out of her pocket. “Alright, I’m gonna smoke this and then go wash my mane.”

Nicky curses when she strikes her thumb against the wheel and the lighter sparks, but produces no flame. She tries again with the same results. Lorna reaches into the pocket of her coat and pulls out a sleek silver Zippo lighter and leans closer to light Nicky’s cigarette for her.

Nicky raises an eyebrow. “Is that mine?”

“Yeah, your favorite one.”

“Why do you have it?” Nicky takes a long, slow drag. “You don’t even smoke.”

The dark-haired girl chews on the cherry candy between her teeth and looks up at the sky, suddenly so shy. “I kinda swiped it the other day. Just in case you didn’t want anything to do with me anymore I wanted something to remember you by.”

Lorna swears she could tell Nicky that she murdered someone and Nicky would just grin like it’s the cutest thing she’s ever heard, like she is now. A week ago, Lorna thought it was Nicky’s way of teasing her on top of all the other ways she teases her, but now, maybe it was one of the biggest signs of them all.

“You know who else does that, Morello? Serial killers. They take trophies, body parts of their victims and shit.” Nicky playfully nudges Lorna with her shoulder. Lorna rolls her eyes and tries to hand the lighter back, but Nicky shakes her head no. “Nah, keep it, you maniac.” Nicky gently takes the lighter from Lorna’s fingers and tucks it back into her coat pocket. She takes another long pull of her cigarette before putting it out and tossing the bud into a ceramic cat ashtray on the table. “Shit, it’s late. Don’t you have school tomorrow?”

“Fuck it, I get A’s on my essays, remember?” Lorna starts to stand alongside Nicky. “I’ll make sure they save some quesadillas for you, meaning they look questionable so I’m gonna wait for you to taste ‘em before I do.”

“Yeah, I’m sure God put me on this here earth to taste test your food for you,” Nicky says sarcastically. Before she can push past the glass door, Lorna grabs her by the leather of her jacket and tugs until Nicky looks at her from over her shoulder.

 “Nichols, we’re okay, right?”

“Yeah. Yeah, we’re cool. And guard those quesadillas with your life. I could literally eat anything right now. Other than cleaning out Red’s leftovers over at Dmitri’s, I haven’t eaten since…shit…breakfast yesterday.”

As she watches Nicky walk ahead of her, back inside, Lorna regrets not hugging her almost as much as she doesn’t regret kissing her back.

*

“You made out with Hascowitz and took her to Red’s? And you weren’t even drunk or high?” Alex falls back until her spine hits the edge of the kitchen counter, unable to control her laughter. “Gross. Boo has gone down on that." 

“Shut up, Vause! I know!” Nicky snaps. She’s fresh out of the shower, drowning in an old Nirvana shirt, her hair still wet and face free of makeup. “Hey, what’s Hascowitz’s first name again?”

“Who cares!” Alex continues to laugh. “Boo referred to it as making love—”

“Jesus!” Nicky grabs a bowl from the cupboard and slams the door unnecessarily hard. When she glances up at one of her best and tallest friends, Nicky can’t help, but notice how Alex’s eyes are across the room, watching Lorna and Tricia try to teach Piper how to play Mario Karts for the first time.

“She was really worried about you, you know,” Alex says. “Lorna. She turned down Christopher for you.”

Nicky is about to pour Cheerios into her bowl, but stops with a spoon hanging down from her mouth. “Whaaa?”

“Yeah, Mr. Knit Sweater Lover wanted to talk to his ‘number one fan’ about ‘the band.’ That plus the yellow glow stick he was sporting spells revenge sex in the warehouse stairwell. And Lorna said no to help us look for your Hascowitzing ass.”

“Quit it.” Nicky pours cereal into her bowl and when a few pieces spill onto the counter she picks them up and tosses them into her mouth. “Morello and I are just friends.”

Alex hums and turns her gaze to the painting on the wall, the one with a high-tech safe hidden behind it like in a movie. “So you dipped behind the la douleur exquise I see.”

Alex’s French is fairly good. She’s skipped too many French classes to count when she was in high school, but she’s also done some traveling. Definitely better than every one of Nicky’s attempts. Fuck French class, man. She can’t help her natural fucking accent, okay?

“That painting’s a stupid fucking creepy thing,” Nicky mutters. She grabs the milk from the refrigerator and takes a whiff beforehand just to be safe. “I’m looking to sell it or maybe trade it in for a replica of The Nereides instead. Three sexy, naked mythical creatures grinding on each other underwater would better suit this place I think.”

Alex laughs, watching Nicky pour milk as if pouring a drink. “I bet you make it a point to throw shit like that into casual conversation to make you feel better about wasting time in your fancy prep school’s useless as fuck Art History Honors class, right?”

“Fuck you.” Nicky shoves the milk carton back into the refrigerator and bumps it closed with her hip. “The teacher being a total babe was worth it.”

“Nah, you’ll never be able to part with that painting,” Alex says surely. “And you shouldn’t have to. It’s beautiful in a stupid, fucking creepy way.” 

“Fuck off.” Nicky stirs a metal spoon through her cereal before taking a huge bite. With her mouth full, Nicky mumbles, “Hey, thanks for not actually mentioning it…”

“Mentioning what?”

Nicky’s lips pull to one side in a smile and Alex shakes her head with a smile of her own. This is the basis of their friendship, knowing and getting each other to the point where words aren’t necessary, just understanding between them.

“So, Morello and I are friends,” Nicky says again, as if saying it over and over and out loud will make it true. “Which I clearly can’t say about you and Chapman. You two look downright domestic giggling in the kitchen earlier. Are you seriously choosing not to learn from my fuckup?”

“You know me.”

“What about Sylvia?” Nicky raises her eyebrows. “Not that I’m complaining, that miserable bitch is no fun and hates hanging out with us, but Chapman also identifies as not-lesbian and has a boyfriend. You’re the very one who told me not to chase straight skirt and mine is just a slightly delusional potential serial killer that fantasizes about marrying an all boys school band geek.”

Knowing Alex as well as she does, Nicky inwardly curses, sure her friend picked up on that pesky mine that slipped in there. If she finds it cause for worry, Alex doesn’t mention it, at least not right now. Alex knows Nicky just as well and if she needs to deflect to get through the rest of the night, she’ll let her. Plus, everyone knows (and Chapman will eventually learn) that the tough love is best left up to Red anyway.

“Don’t fall in love with a straight girl,” Alex says. “Most broken gay rule ever.”

“Love? Let’s not get crazy here, Vause.”

“Fall fast, fall hard. I don’t know how to play the game any other way,” Alex says coolly. “C’mon, I would challenge you to a quesadilla eating contest, but, honestly, I don’t know how many of them are actually edible.”

“I heard that!” Piper shouts without thinking. She immediately goes rigid, probably with a monster blush creeping up, and none of this situation is made better by the loud, boisterous way Nicky laughs.

“By the way, you two suck at whispering!” Lorna shouts across the room. Her eyes are on the flat screen, controller in hand, biting on the tip of her tongue as she continues to race even though Piper is too distracted from the game to have a chance.

“Who says we were trying to whisper?” Alex shouts back.

They’re all too hopped up on adrenalin collected over the course of the night to sleep so instead, Nicky eats cereal and watches Alex, Tricia and Lorna reach a terrifying level of competitive playing Mario Karts. So much so that she has to put her bowl down, rip the controllers away and scold them like children before the neighbors call the cops (for the umpteenth time). They end up watching whatever on Netflix and Nicky thinks that maybe she can do this on a more regular basis, just hang out with real friends and without illegal substances in her system. Maybe.

As they watch the movie, the room lit only by the glow of the TV, Alex falls asleep first. Her head starts to droop until it lands and stays on Piper’s shoulder. Nicky fails to hide her smirk and Lorna’s even worse at holding back her giggles, especially when Alex moans in her sleep and shifts so that her arm is stretched across Piper, snuggling into her. Piper tries to stay as still as possible while also trying to relax, keeping her breathing even, not wanting to disturb Alex.

Lorna, the second to fall asleep, has the reclining chair all to herself. Only when she’s sure Lorna’s really, deeply asleep does Nicky let herself stare for longer than a second. Nicky put on the strongest front she could muster out on the terrace, but honestly, just looking at Lorna hurts so fucking much and yet, Nicky never wants to stop. This self-inflicted internal torture makes Nicky wish she didn’t go to Red, wish she was high right now so she wouldn’t feel everything she’s feeling, the intensity of the unrequited. Nicky knows she did the right thing, but there’s never a guarantee that the right thing to do feels good.

When it’s nearly light outside, Nicky shuts off the TV and drags herself up off her end of the couch. She grabs two blankets from the hall closet, carelessly tosses one at Alex and Piper while delicately laying the other over Lorna, who looks extra tiny, curled up the way she is. Nicky feels Piper watching as she does this and can’t resist making one last snarky comment.

“You take it’s complicated to a whole new level, don’t you, Chapman?”

“If I could move my arms, I’d be flipping you off right now,” Piper whisper-hisses.

Then a shockingly clear, not sleepy at all Alex shushes them. “Could you two keep it down?” she asks. “You’re really killing the moment here.”

Piper looks down at Alex with wide eyes while the girl with the sexy glasses smiles cheekily. Nicky doesn’t wait to see how that pans out, just laughs at the Classic Alex Vause Move and heads to her room, calling out a, “Goodnight, not-lesbians!” from over her shoulder.

*

Spotted: Queen P with her new posse consisting of the Rockabilly Babe and the Jersey Shhhwhore. Still no sign of N. And what is that on our Queen’s wrist? In a game of Red Light, Green Light, P is sporting the in-between. Does this mean things are slowing down with Pie Fucker or about to speed up and crash?

*

UPDATE: N tweeted this gem moments ago…

A close-up photo. One hand holds up a home drug test—negative—while the other hand features an erect middle finger. 

That’s the Nichols way it seems, proving us wrong when we least expect it. Maybe some people really can change…but sustaining change? How long before the cookie really does crumble? You know who’ll be here when it finally does. Until then. You know you love me.

Xoxo  

Gossip Girl