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The fluorescent lights of the girls bathroom flickered above her, buzzing in a way that only added to Bella’s sour mood. She muttered curses under her breath that anyone listening would scold her for, insisting that it was unladylike of her.
The morning had been unexpectedly overcast—the fault of Bella being drenched when she came into school that morning. She had hurried into the bathroom, her face a bright red out of embarrassment from people staring at her smudged makeup and shirt that had been wet enough to become slightly see-through.
She didn’t want to bother calling home and asking to be picked up over something so little, but she didn’t know any other way to deal with her problem. Her hair had been easy enough to fix, but she didn’t carry around her makeup with her most of the time, and her shirt was the biggest problem.
“I can’t stay here for all of school.” She muttered to herself, pacing the room, the slap of her shoes against the tiles creating a sound that echoed her irritation. She had a date to get to later—she needed a solution.
The door swung open with a single rushed motion, the force hitting Bella in the face before she had time to react. Shit. She stopped in her tracks, crossing her arms over her chest quickly before she registered who it was.
Rochelle, walking inside of the bathroom while fumbling with a pack of cigarettes. Her supposed rival since the start of school, after a small fight over her ruining Bella’s painting, that had somehow turned into a blossoming friendship.
Bella never would’ve expected it, but she enjoyed the company of Rochelle more than she thought. It started out with pissy arguments in the hallways, over the smallest teases that Bella would glare at her for, to being stuck in community service after hours, to sharing a bed with her every night .
Rochelle had somehow found herself a place in Bella’s heart, the mocking between them becoming playful exchanges, Bella only letting her be the only one to touch her under most circumstances, and being the one she could feel most comfortable around.
Bella had never thought about it too hard—Rochelle was her new best friend, after all.
“Brooksie?” Rochelle met her with a surprised expression, stopping in her tracks and hurriedly slipping the pack of cigarettes into her jacket pocket. “I was looking for you in English—is this where you’ve been hiding out?” Her voice carried its usual humor, along with the smirk that always came with it.
Rochelle was pretty in a way that Bella could never describe. The thick Boston accent that showed when it aligned with her insults, the red lipstick that she kept on her at all times that Bella couldn’t help staring at, the leather jacket that she insisted on wearing everywhere. The way that she was always bold, confident with her teases and mocks—but carried a melancholy, sensitive personality underneath the skin that she shed during the private moments in Bella’s bedroom. The whispered talks at night, the casual bickering, the kind that made her heart beat ever so slightly faster in her chest.
Bella felt a shift in her nervousness, a sense of comfort washing over from the sight of a familiar face. Her lips parted in an attempt to get an explanation out, but Rochelle seemed to notice before she spoke.
She stepped forward, a grin tugging on her lips, showing the dimples in her cheeks. Her eyes scanned Bella from top to bottom, seeing how her skin was still dotted with raindrops. “Couldn’t beat the rain?”
Bella shot a glance towards the mirror at her makeup, her mascara running down her face and blush fading. She felt more embarrassed in front of Rochelle than she had been in the halls, somehow. She couldn’t place her finger on why she cared about how Rochelle saw her.
“No,” she sighed, “I’ve got a date with Logan after school, too,” She didn’t bother trying to hide her lack of excitement.
Rochelle paused for a second, eyes locked onto her in thought, right before she slipped her leather jacket off, revealing a gray shirt with navy stripes. “I gotcha’, Brooksie,” she gave her a sly wink, coming up behind her to slide the jacket over her shoulders before Bella was able to say anything. “That should cover up your shirt for the day.” Bella couldn’t help the immediate blush that rose to her face, one that she hoped would be covered up even by her ruined makeup.
She tried to come up with something clever, a little retort so she could cover up how flustered she was, but the words refused to come out. “Thank you.” It was all she was able to manage to speak. She slid the jacket over her arms, the leather comfortable against her skin. The faint smell of cigarettes clung to it, something that Bella had gotten incredibly used to, along with a hint of more pleasant strawberry perfume.
“Don’t mention it. Here, let me help you with your makeup.” She grabbed Bella’s hand, leading her towards the mirror. “You don’t have to do that—“ She was interrupted by Rochelle raising a finger to her lips, just barely grazing them. Bella had a split second to think about how she probably had no idea the kind of effect she had on her even with her simplest actions.
Bella pulled back from the touch, shooting her a glare, but one without any aggression behind it like it would with anyone else. She switched her focus, rummaging through the pockets since she knew Rochelle wouldn’t let her go without attempting to help her. She searched blindly with her hands through the stolen trinkets and the cigarettes pack to pull out mascara and her lipstick. “How much do you keep in your jacket?” Bella quipped.
“Don’t worry about it.” Rochelle laughed back, letting her glinting teeth show with a sharp grin. She let Bella turn to the mirror as she moved past her, grabbing a paper towel before turning back to see her applying the mascara carefully. She waited by her side until she was finished, before Bella turned to her to see what she wanted.
Rochelle took her jaw in her hand carefully, fingers brightly painted in dark red at the tips, bringing up the paper towel to Bella’s face. She dabbed it carefully, wiping away the astray rain droplets from her burning bright pink face.
Rochelle was too close. Her breath fanned across Bella’s skin, her lips pressed together in a concentrated expression. She almost screamed from the close proximity, but it wouldn’t come out. She felt a shiver run up her arms—but not from how cold she had been.
Rochelle pulled away, proud of her work, and for a moment, Bella wished that she could have her that close again, another glance into her eyes. She brushed the thought off, as she always did. No matter how much it lingered.
“Thank you… I don’t know what’d I do without you.” She shifted the jacket on her arms, covering up her front just enough.
“It’s nothing, Brooksie,” Rochelle had the same smile that told Bella whenever she was holding back bragging. “Are you going to class?”
“Are you?” Bella asked.
“I just came in here to smoke, honestly.” Rochelle gave her a sheepish smile, a hint of shame behind it that she couldn’t decipher the reason behind. “But if you’ve got my cigarettes in your pocket, then I guess I won’t be able to.”
“I’ll see you around.” Rochelle turned on her heel, boots clicking as she walked out of the bathroom with a small wave.
Bella waved back, the question of whether she wanted the jacket back later caught in her throat. She didn’t follow her, standing completely still and practically starstruck.
Rochelle acted so casual about the sweet things she did, it almost made Bella sick. She knew that she wouldn’t do those things for just anyone, but what made her so special? And what made it seem like it wasn’t anything special to Rochelle herself?
God, I wish I could just figure that shitbird out, she thought bitterly. She checked in the mirror one last time before shoving her hands in the pockets of the jacket and walking out of the bathroom.
No one had mentioned the newly adorned leather jacket that Bella had kept on her for the entire school day. Mrs. Wilkins had shot her a confused expression when she saw her walk into class with the jacket and seeing Rochelle without it, but didn’t question anything.
The rain had come to a gradual stop throughout the day, leaving puddles for Bella to step around as she walked towards Logan, waiting outside the school for her. She usually didn’t mind the rain very much—it gave a nice atmosphere whenever she was painting, and the smell it left in the air afterwards was a comfort for her.
She hadn’t gotten the chance yet to ask Rochelle if she needed the jacket back, but it didn’t matter much. She would see her that night either way.
Logan stood by his car, perking up once he saw Bella heading towards him. She reluctantly agreed on going on a date to a diner located near them, one she frequented often, since he pointed out that they hadn’t gone out together in a while. He didn’t say it, but she knew why—since most of the time, she had been going with Rochelle.
“Whose jacket is that?” He asked warily as she was about to speak, as if she would be talking to any other guys, which she hardly ever thought of.
“Oh, it’s just Rochelle’s…” She couldn’t help the slight blush that rose to her cheeks from the way she said her name.
Logan raised an eyebrow at her. “She’s giving you her jacket now?” He said it like an accusation, as if he was interrogating her. Bella was confused by his reaction—it wasn’t anything serious, just a simple gesture of affection. Between friends, that’s all. “Yeah, what about it? It was just because I needed my shirt covered.”
His lips parted to speak, but hesitation caught him. “It’s okay,” his words came out a little too quick, “let’s just go.” He headed over to the car door, opening it up for her to slide in.
He climbed in beside her after making his way to the driver's seat. An awkward silence sat between them as he drove off, drumming his fingers along the steering wheel and giving looks towards Bella that she would’ve missed if she blinked a second too early.
“You’ve been hanging out with Rochelle a lot recently.” His tone was low, as if he was approaching the subject like someone would approach a bomb just waiting to go off.
“Why do you care?” She held back a scoff. It was only a question, but she was sick of it.
“It’s fine, I was just pointing it out,”—a laugh that sounded almost forced came out, a sound just to fill the space—“but you smell like cigarettes all the time.”
“It’s just the jacket.”
His grip tightened on the wheel, not meeting her eyes. “No, it’s not just that. It’s all the time.”
He didn’t know that the smell came from Rochelle’s smoking in Bella’s room. She had grown so used to it, she hardly noticed. The way it latched onto her skin made her feel almost comforted, like it was Rochelle hugging her and Bella was able to take in her as a whole rather than just the hint of her presence.
The rest of the car ride held a heavy tension, the faint sounds of the radio being the only thing to fill the unsaid words between them.
An Elvis record played slowly in the background of the diner, the voices of teens crowded inside overlapping with the music. She had seen a few people she recognized, but Rochelle was nowhere to be found, even if the diner was one of her usual spots. Bella sipped on a vanilla milkshake, facing Logan who sat across from her in the booth.
She always found her mind wandering to other subjects whenever they were together.
It wasn’t like Logan was a bad boyfriend, per say. He did all the things one should, but Bella could never understand what didn’t make them click together. He got her flowers, despite her allergies, took her on dates, called her beautiful, but something was missing. Her words never flowed properly when she talked to him—it never felt natural, like she was being forced to speak. She never understood the way other girls talked about their boyfriends like they were the most important things in the world.
But Logan had never done anything wrong. He didn’t deserve to be treated like nothing. But whenever Bella looked at him, she couldn’t see him.
She looked up from her milkshake, meeting the pale blue eyes of the very boy that she was thinking of.
But something lingered behind them. That sky blue that she found herself staring into—but not with him in mind. With Rochelle’s. The identical color, the one she lost herself in constantly in a dream of being with someone she could never have.
Or someone she wouldn’t let herself have.
She’d attempted to draw Logan before, but it never looked right enough. Rochelle always did, no matter if she was slugging or not—the pencil always found its way to picture her perfectly, to suit her every feature.
The rain had stopped long ago, leaving drops falling down from the awning of her roof and causing small plinks from the fire escape stairs. Bella sat by her desk, the sketch of Logan’s face slowly being formed by the tip of her pencil, illuminated by the glow of the lamp that sat beside her. The leather jacket was draped over the back of her chair, brushing against her whenever she leaned back.
There was something off about it that she couldn’t quite place. Maybe it was the eyes, lacking their usual bright blue considering it hadn’t been colored—maybe it was the smile, the one she always drew intentionally crooked.
Bella huffed out a sigh, setting her pencil down harder than she meant to. She knew that she was a good artist, she rarely doubted her abilities. So why did the boy on her paper always have something missing, according to her mind?
Her eyes flickered towards the window, then to the clock. Evening was settling in the sky, painting it a series of oranges and blues clashing together—Rochelle would be there any minute now, stepping through the fire escape with the usual spring in her step.
Bella stared back down at the portrait of Logan, brushing her fingers across it gently, smudging the graphite. The smudged version didn’t look much different to her. The same unnatural look to him, the same one she could never understand to the point where she felt the anger rising in her chest.
She tore the paper clean off of the sketchpad, throwing it down underneath her chair, turning over a fresh page to start on. She let her pencil move how it always did—rushed, yet swift, delicate enough to capture every feature of the face that she spent so long simply admiring. Rochelle’s long raven colored curls, the sharp smile, the spark in her eyes that Bella always noticed whenever she was passionate about something.
It hardly took any time to draw, from the practice she had done in the past. It had started out as a way to kill time, just to find something to draw, until Rochelle had become her permanent muse. If there was a drawing, Rochelle was there along with it, somewhere along the corners of the paper.
It ended with a drawing of her without her jacket on, a cigarette dangling naturally from her mouth like it was just a part of her design. Bella had always demanded that she never smoked in her room, worrying about the stench somehow seeping out and getting her caught either by her brother or her dad, and Rochelle always did so without a fight. It gave her an unidentifiable feeling in her gut whenever obliged to what she wanted. The little okay, okay, Brooksie with that grin of hers was what made her heart twist.
Bella couldn’t help but stare at the lines formed in front of her. She was beautiful. Even more beautiful than Logan could ever be.
Maybe—she was better than he could ever be for her.
The cool air from the window opening hit her in a sudden motion, the familiar call of the nickname catching her attention and the sound of boots hitting the floor. “Hey, Brooksie!”
Bella quickly flipped the sketchbook over, hiding the drawing of the very face she was looking at now, a slight tint of embarrassment rising to her cheeks as she threw it below the desk with a loud thud. Rochelle cocked an eyebrow at her, now standing by the desk, eyes landing on the sketchbook right as Bella was able to push in her chair to hopefully cover up the evidence. She noticed that there was a more distinctive smell of strawberry coming off of her, from how her cigarettes being tucked away into the jacket had restricted her bad habits.
“Hey, Rochelle.” Bella gave her a nervous wave, hoping that Rochelle would’ve let her obvious intention of covering something drop.
She squinted in her direction, under the desk, and then back to Bella. “Whatcha’ you hiding?” Rochelle questioned, a held back laugh behind her voice that Bella could sense.
No luck.
“Nothing.” Bella stammered. She knew that she wouldn’t have minded the drawings at all, but she didn’t need more to add to her ego or to her habit of teasing her. Bella never would’ve heard the end of it if Rochelle could see how she saw her. She knew that what she felt wasn’t unnatural. People looked at other girls the way she looked at Rochelle all the time. It wasn’t anything weird , but she still wouldn’t tell anyone about it.
She was eager to change the topic, a question from earlier popping back into her head. “I’ve been meaning to ask you, do you want your jacket back?” She asked.
Rochelle paused, her insanely confident expression dropping to show something more comfortable—a hint of sheepishness behind it that she only let herself show around Bella.
“You can keep it for a bit, Brooksie.”
Bella couldn’t help but feel stunned.
“Really?” She exclaimed out of disbelief, watching as she carelessly went over to her bed, sitting down at the edge kicking her boots off. “I thought it’d just be… important to you.”
“It is important to me,” she said with a chuckle, “but I trust you to keep it safe. Besides, it’ll only be for a bit.” Rochelle shrugged, a lighter smile on her face. “ And , it keeps me away from cigarettes.” She added.
Bella took a moment to consider what she had said. “Does this mean you’ll quit if I keep your jacket forever?”
“I would quit if you asked me to, Brooksie.”
“That feels like a lie.”
Rochelle laughed—the kind that always made Bella’s heart beat a different rhythm. “It’s true. It’d be worth the trouble.” Her tone got lower, a blush that she was unable to hide flushing her face as she spoke.
Bella didn’t have the mind to reply. She was caught up in trying to wrap her mind around how Rochelle would have been willing to do it for her. Not just because the cigarettes were bad for her—she probably would’ve quit ages ago if she was aware enough—but because Bella could’ve asked her to at any second.
Every gesture that Rochelle did or every word she spoke made Bella want to lose herself in her world even more.