„A decision about what?“ Delilah asks me as we enter the New York afternoon heat.

I tell her about the salon and Delilah's eyes widen.

„Wow. That's nice of her.“

„Yes.“

I look at my worn shoes. Delilah intertwines our fingers.

„But you're not sure.“

It's not a question.

I lift my head, only to be bumped into by some business man whose every single taken shit is more important than my entire existence.

„No,“ I say. „But that's crazy. I should say yes.“

I think she wants to answer me, but the crowd makes it difficult.

„Where are we going?“ I ask her, clinging to her hand so not to lose her.

She grins at me.

„Surprise.“

It doesn't take me long to figure out she's taking me to Central Park and it makes me smile. Today is a nice day for being outside. Warm – almost hot, to be precise – but not scoring and the air isn't as stale as most of the days.

„Here's nice.“

She picks out a free spot on the lawn and pulls a small blanket out of her backpack.

„Very prepared,“ I comment with a smile and help her lay it out.

„Oh, you haven't seen half of it.“

I'm impressed when she presents me with crackers and strawberries and Nutella and a bottle of champagne.

I don't think I've ever had real champagne in my life. My mother was always more the pure vodka kind of woman.

„I know, you don't usually drink,“ Delilah says. „But I thought we could make today unusal.“

I smile at her and my chest hurts so much that I think I should have Navarro check it out.

„I'm down,“ I say and she grins.

She didn't bring glasses, so we share the bottle – after I spilled approximately half of it over the grass, Delilah giggling and gasping.

„That was horrible,“ she says.

„I've never opened such a bottle before,“ I defend myself, grinning. „And you didn't want to open it,“ I remind her.

She smiles sweetly at me and kisses my cheek.

„My heroine.“

I roll my eyes and hand her the bottle. Her eyes never leave my face as she takes a generous swig.

When it's my turn, I feel like I could taste her on the bubbly liquid. But then she kisses me and now I know what champagne tastes like in her mouth and I feel like I'm truly doomed.

We eat strawberries with Nutella and crackers with Nutella and I'm starting to think Delilah has some kind of weird food fetish because she keeps kissing me.

„You do know that's gross,“ I tell her as she licks chocolate cream off my lips.

„You don't think that,“ she says unconcerned and of course she's right.

Sunset is approaching and drunk people are disturbing our bubble. When one creep hits on Delilah, I just lean over and kiss her, the French way, right before his eyes.

„You need a third?“ he asks after a moment of recovery.

„Sorry, we're all set,“ Delilah says and smiles sweetly.

We're lying on our backs, watching the slowly darkening sky, when Delilah asks me: „Don't you want to take over the salon because you feel like that would be too permanent?“

I turn my head to her and wonder how she can possibly know that.

„You're scary,“ I tell her.

She smiles.

„I'd call it intelligent, love,“ she says and I have to tell her to stop this petname crap.

I'm not one for petnames.

We're not for petnames.

„It's stupid. I'll probably never get another opportunity like that ever again. She's more or less giving me the salon as a present,“ I say.

Delilah turns her head to look at me. There are some smudges of strawberry juice on her chin.

„That's bullshit. You'll have a lot of other great opportunities.“

„Says the daughter of a real estate agent. Or whatever your dad is doing.“

Delilah rolls her eyes.

„I think you're not thinking big enough.“

„I'm thinking about paying rent, Delilah.“

„That's what I mean. I know that you're not as privileged as I am, but there is a lot more you can ask for. You could go to college.“

„No, I can't. There's no money for that.“

„You could take on a student loan. I'm sure you'd be able to pay it back before you're thirty-five.“

I shake my head.

„I'm not like you. I can't just trust everything's going to turn out alright. If I mess up, my whole existence is at stake.“

I turn to her, meet her eyes.

„I worked my ass off to be where I am now. I'm paying rent myself, I'm paying for food and clothes and everything. The only thing my mother gives me money for are Caden's treatments. That's the only thing.“

Delilah reaches out and gently brushes my hair back.

„I know. And that's incredible, Leah. But it's also why I just know that you could go anywhere. Be anything. I think you're meant for more.“

I snort.

„I'm not meant for anything. No one is. There is no grand plan.“

„Maybe not. But I still think that, if you wanted to, you could be a great physician. Or a lawyer. Or manager. You're smart, you work hard and you adjust. That's all you need.“

„I'm not good with people.“

„You're better with people than you think.“

I reach for another strawberry.

„Do you believe in free will?“

„How do you mean that?“

„I mean... do you think we're truly free in our decisions? Or do you think that our personality, our genes – whatever – only ever make one choice possible.“

„Why are you asking that?“

I shrug.

She frowns, thinking about it. Looking at the sky while I'm looking at her.

„I don't think it matters, to be honest. It feels like we're making the decisions. If it's truly determined what we want, then we can't change it anyway.“

I look away.

„Why are you asking?“ she repeats.

„I'm so afraid to become like my mother,“ I say.

Delilah takes my hand, her thumb brushing over my skin.

„You're not like her at all.“

„You don't know her.“

„I know what you told me about her. You're nothing like that.“

I swallow and gaze at her. I'm afraid there is so much vulnerability in my eyes.

„Children with fucked up childhoods grow up to be fucked up adults.“

„We're all fucked up.“

„Not everyone grows up like I did.“

She squeezes my hand.

„No. But it doesn't matter. You're not your parents, Leah. You're you.“

„But they made me.“

„And they did a good job.“

I snort.

„Things aren't black and white. No one is always good. We all make mistakes.“

I'm not sure what she's trying to tell me. If she's talking about my mother.

„I wonder who I'd be if they would have been better parents.“

„You think you'd be a better person. But what about Caden?“

I look at her.

„What about him?“

„Isn't he a good person?“

„Yes. Of course. But...“

„But?“

„That's different.“

„Why?“

„Because – he is different. No one could ever make him do something bad. I mean, truly bad.“

„Everyone is capable of doing truly bad things,“ Delilah says.

„Who's the pessimist now?“

She smiles at me.

„No one but you decides who you are, Leah,“ she says.

I kiss her, mostly because I don't want to talk about this anymore.

She kisses me back, tasting like chocolate and strawberries and now I'm kissing her because I don't want to stop.

„I wish we wouldn't be in public,“ she whispers.

I hum and we're walking a thin line between decent and absolutely indecent. The creep from earlier would have been delighted.

„You want to get a cab?“ she asks, grinning.

„If you want to,“ I say, rather destracted by the strap of her dress that keeps falling off her shoulder.

„We haven't made out in the back of a cab yet.“

I laugh.

„Is that on your bucket list or what?“

She grins and nips on my bottom lip.

„Most definitely.“

Half of my mother's cups and glasses look like they were plastic. Maybe she lied to me about the job. Her apartment doesn't look like she'd spend any money on it.

„My place is nearer his college,“ she says, putting a brownie on a small plate that's chipped and pushes it over to me.

The brownie's smell is assaulting my nostrils.

„I don't care. Caden stays with me.“

She hands me a fork.

„I always baked those on your birthday,“ she says as if I didn't know.

„Yeah.“

They're just chocolate brownies. It's what every mom makes for her kids.

Shows how very much not creative my mother is.

„Do you remember when you turned twelve?“ she asks me, smiling reverently.

„I'm not here to reminisce.“

I'm here because, frankly, I need her money for the meds and I felt like I had to come. To somehow pay back.

„I bought one of those fancy cakes for you, with fondant and marzipan. We went to the zoo together, do you remember? Just Cades, you and I. I brought the brownies and we almost couldn't seperate Caden from this goat he took a liking to. To console him...“

„I gave him two brownies,“ I say.

„Yes. And then he had to puke.“

My mother laughs.

„Right in front of the monkeys enclosure. Everyone was staring at us.“

I haven't thought about this day in forever. But now that I do...

I swallow thickly.

„That was a good day,“ she says.

It's what I was thinking.

„Honey, it's really not fair you're paying rent for yourself and your brother.“

„Caden isn't working. He has, like, three hundred dollars.“

„I can pay his part.“

I give her a look.

„Can you now? It doesn't really look like it.“

She frowns lightly.

„I'm saving most of my money for you. I don't want you to think I can't support you. I can, honey. I promise. You just have to let me.“

„We don't need you.“

„I'm not saying you need me. I'm just saying I could make things easier for you.“

I stare at her.

„I'll take over Anne's salon.“

„Oh. Wow. Congrats, sweetie.“

„It means I'll make more money.“

I feel the need to get my point across.

„Yes. That's great.“

I stare at the brownie. It's staring back at me.

„It is.“

„Do you need me to help you around the house then? It surely means you'll have to work more.“

„I got it,“ I snap.

Part of me doesn't even know why I'm acting like that. My mother sighs.

„Alright. Give me a call if you change your mind.“

I'm greeted by the sweet singing voice of my brother and the smell of melting cheese as I slip through the door to my apartment.

I've always thought it so unfair that I can't sing for shit while Caden sounds actually good. I mean, I doubt he'll be the next Shawn Mendes, but no neighbour has yet screamed through our closed door for him to please stop singing.

„I made like a pasta bake,“ he greets me and I hug him.

He's gained back most of the weight he lost, so he's just thin now, not emaciated.

We eat in front of the TV and I get a second helping because – well. Pasta and cheese. Do I have to say more?

„Leah, I want to go out again,“ Caden says.

I frown.

„What do you mean?“

„Adrian will leave next week and we haven't done anything fun together yet.“

I wait for him to continue.

„I just... I don't know, want to get ice cream. Maybe hang out at the park or something. Have a sleepover.“

My face seems to say it all.

„Navarro said it's okay. It's not like I'll have to stay locked up forever. I'm as healthy as it'll get. I want to have a life again.“

„You've never had a life in the first place.“

He tosses a pillow at me, but laughs.

„Okay, but my best friend is here. For another seven days. I really, really want to make them count.“

I wonder if this is Caden feeling like he might die any day.

„What if you get sick again?“

He shrugs.

„Then I'll have to go to the hospital.“

„Your immunosystem is shit. If you catch the flu, you could die.“

„Leah, it's August.“

I sigh, rubbing my face.

„I don't like the idea.“

He tilts his head and makes his puppy dog eyes.

„Please? I'm feeling better than ever, honestly. This heart is actually working like it should and I know – look, I know there are risks. But there always will be. And I can't stay in here forever. I'll go crazy.“

I know he's right.

„Okay, but -“

He's sweeping me into his arms and I have to fight for my freedom.

„I'm not done! But you have to promise me not to be stupid. No alocohol, no drugs. No smoking, Caden. Understood?“

He gives me a frown.

„I'm not stupid. I want to keep this heart too, you know.“

„Okay. Good.“

The thing is, I know how Adrian is. I love him, but I also wouldn't put it past him to offer Caden some cigarettes to celebrate his survival.

„What about the sleepover?“

I sigh.

„I don't like it. But if you promise to stay in...“

„We would. Just playing video games and stuff.“

He's grinning at me widely and showing off a little bit of basil stuck in his teeth and maybe, I did make the right decision.

„Keep them short though,“ I say, eyeing Delilah a little worriedly.

She laughs.

„No, I was planning on magically growing them out.“

I blush a little.

„Fake nails are a thing, aren't they?“

With a grin, she flops down next to me on the bed, dark green nailpolish in hand.

„They are, but I'm not a nail stylist.“

I didn't expect Delilah painting my nails to be so meditative, but it is. I watch her, all concentrated, one hand gently holding mine.

It's been ages since I've last worn nail polish.

„Why green?“ I ask her.

She glances at me.

„Didn't you say you're a Slytherin?“

I swallow.

I did mention that. Casually. Once.

„I did.“

She grins.

„So. Even though I don't believe that.“

„What?“

„No way you're a Slytherin.“

„What do you think I am?“

„Ravenclaw at best. Probably Hufflepuff.“

She smiles at my nails.

„I am not a Hufflepuff.“

„Sure, darling.“

Before I can ask her what her house is, a knock on the door interrupts us.

A guy in a white shirt and even whiter shoes opens.

„Oh. Am I bothering you?“

His eyes dart from me to Delilah.

„A little,“ she says, smiling at him.

„I'll make it short.“

He winks at her as if he'd know her well. I wonder if he does.

„There's a party tonight at my place. All the interesting people will be there.“

He winks at her again. He probably thinks it looks cool. I'm tempted to tell him it resembles a twitch of his eyes. Maybe it is. He should get that checked out.

„I'm with Leah tonight,“ Delilah says and I can't suppress a smug grin.

Mr. White Shoes doesn't even bat a lash.

„Cool. Bring her. You'll love it,“ he tells me, eyes instantly back on Delilah.

„We'll think about it,“ Delilah says, clearly evasive.

„I'll text you the adress.“

„I know your adress.“

„Just in case.“

One last wink slash twitch of his eye and he leaves us alone.

„Is he always winking this much?“ I ask.

Delilah grins wryly.

„Yes. Except for when he's drunk. Then it's twice as much.“

„Jesus.“

„Yeah.“

„So he's got a crush on you,“ I say.

„I don't think so. He's gay.“

„He didn't really seem gay to me.“

Delilah lies down next to me.

„I'm almost sure that he's looking for a beard so he can finally fuck his expensive rent-boys in peace. Without his parents always asking about a girlfriend,“ she clarifies.

„Really? Are you just making that up?“

She winks at me and we both have to laugh.

„Who knows?“

I surely don't and I really don't care that much when she starts kissing me.

„Watch your nails,“ she breathes.

„Get creative, then,“ I tell her and regret it the next moment, when she accepts the challenge with a lift of her eyebrows and slides from the bed, kneeling, motioning for me to sit on the edge.

„Hands off,“ she tells me and I take silent pity on the winking guy.

If he only knew how lost his case is.

It's been a long time since I've last visited a rich kid's house. And I've never been at a house like this before.

It's a house that could easily be inhabited by a Hollywood actress or maybe one of those pop singers Caden secretly loves.

„Maybe this was a mistake,“ I say, nervously shifting, staring up at this mansion.

Delilah frowns at me.

„You wanted to go,“ she reminds me.

It's true. Delilah didn't. But I insisted, because... I've never met her friends. I don't know anything about the people she's hanging out with here, in New York.

„We can still go back to your place,“ she says, tugging at my fingers.

„No way.“

And with that, I drag her behind me, right inside the lion's den.

„Delilah!“

Everyone here seems to know her.

While I'm busy acclimating, taking in the high ceilings and many people and stench of richness and alcohol, Delilah is being hugged and greeted and kissed and I find myself pushed aside, not quite able to keep up.

„And who are you?“ one of the guys asks me, a red-head with a beer in his hand.

„I'm Leah,“ I say and try to reclaim my place at Delilah's side.

„I have to introduce you to Jackson. He'll love you, Dee,“ another guy says and Delilah throws me an apologetic look before she's gone, the large house swallowing her whole.

I must look rather lost because the ginger takes pity on me.

„Come on, I'll show you around.“

With that he means, he shows me the way to something that probably qualifies as a kitchen, but is as big as my whole apartment.

„Hey, babe.“

My companion kisses a girl leaning against the counter full of bottles.

„Who's that?“

The girl smiles at me, friendly.

„Leah, meet May.“

„Hi,“ I say, beyond uncomfortable.

May flicks her curtain of long black hair back and hugs me.

„So nice to meet you. Have a drink with me.“

Her boyfriend vanishes while she pours me a vodka soda.

„He has to kiss a few asses,“ she says as if I'd know what she's talking about.

Seeing my clueless expression, she explains: „He wants to be a producer. That's why he's sucking up to all those rich guys. I'm just here for moral support. And to drink, of course.“

I swallow and try for a smile.

„What brings you here?“ she asks.

It must be obvious that I don't belong.

„I'm here with my... friend.“

May gives me a knowing smile.

„And who might that be?“

„Delilah. Do you know her?“

„Delilah Carter?“

I'm shocked as I realize I don't know. I don't know her lastname.

I tilt my glass in my hand, just enough to make the ice cubes clink together.

„About my height. Dark hair.“

„Gorgeous?“

I nod.

„Oh. Yes, I know her.“

„Is she a friend of yours?“ I ask her.

„No, no. Chris – my boyfriend – knows her because she's trying to impress the same people he is.“

May gives me a curious look.

Her eyeshadow is applied very professionally, I think. But her lipstick is already a little smudged.

„I met her at work.“

„What do you do?“

She takes a sip from her own drink.

„I'm a hairdresser,“ I say and lift my chin.

She doesn't bat a lash.

„That's cool. I'd need a haircut. Maybe you could slip me the adress.“

„You're hair is fine,“ I say and it doesn't really sound like the compliment it was meant as.

But May just shrugs.

„It's the Chinese genes.“

„Were you born in China?“ I ask and decide to finally take a swig from my own glass.

The tang of alcohol calms my nerves.

„Yeah, but my family moved here when I was... not even a year old.“

We sip our drinks for a moment and I try not to be too obvious in my amazement of this house.

„So, you and Delilah... you're friends?“

May has tilted her head.

I look into my glass. The ice is half molten now.

„Something like that.“

„So you're having sex?“

I glance up at her.

In my experience, it's unusal for straight people to so readily read between the lines – especially when it's girls. You could make out right in front of their eyes and they'd think you're just besties.

But maybe it's different with rich people. Or maybe May isn't straight.

„Why are you asking me that?“

May reaches out and squeezes my arm.

„It's none of my business. Just... do you know Delilah well?“

Good question. Do I?

I know how much she loves chocolate. I know she doesn't know much about Harry Potter but watched every Game of Thrones season in two days. I know how she likes to be kissed.

But does that mean I know her?

What about her childhood? What about her family, her old friends? Do I know anything about her life at all?

„I feel like I do,“ I finally say, not quite sure if I'm being honest.

May regards me with an unsettling look.

My heart starts beating in my chest, almost like it used to when I was lying in my bed and listening for heavy footsteps, for loud voices.

„I should probably go find her,“ I say and put my drink down.

„Okay. I'll be here,“ May says, but I'm already on my way.

Someone grabs my arm on my way to the stairs, but I just pull it away and ignore him.

There are too many rooms in this house. I recognize the song that is playing. The bass seems to be resonating in my bones.

I open doors and find people gathered around tables, smoking and making out and one time, I find two guys and a girl sniffing white powder, not even noticing me looking.

„I could take you there some time,“ a deep voice says and part of me knows what I'll see before I actually do.

They're not even in a room. They are standing in front of an open door, grinning at each other.

He's taller than her. Strong muscles and sandy blond hair. The embodiment of white male privilege.

„Sounds great,“ Delilah says and she does so in her sweet voice.

He doesn't hesitate. Leans down and pulls her close and kisses her.

And she kisses him back.

They're wrapped around each other, looking beautiful together and I can feel my skin crack, my heart tear. I turn around and flee, a ringing in my ear.

The next door is a bathroom. I stumble inside and grab the sink, my knuckles as white as the china.

„You didn't,“ I whisper to my reflection.

I don't know whom I'm talking to – her or myself.

„Leah?“

It's Delilah.

„Get out.“

She doesn't.

„Leah, come on.“

Her words make me whirl around.

„Come on? Come on, what?“

I can't help my trembling voice.

She swallows.

„I told you we're not like that,“ she says, quietly.

„Not like what, Delilah?“

„Not a fucking couple!“

She flinches back at the sight of my stare.

„You're a fucking liar.“

„I never said we were exclusive.“

I stare at her. Everything is crumbling around me.

„So that's how you manipulate luck, huh? By sleeping your way around until you finally fuck the right one?“

Delilah slaps me.

Her palm on my cheek stings. Hair is stuck to my face.

„You're a lying slut. Get the fuck out of my face,“ I say.

I think her lip is trembling as she takes a step back.

„Go to hell, Leah.“

I don't have to. I'm already there.

She storms out on me and I sink to the floor, wrapping my arms around my body.

I can't do anything about the surges of horror crashing over me, about the pain in my chest. My legs won't carry me, my knees are bruising against the hard tiles.

I'm sobbing, forehead pressed against the floor.

I have no idea for how long I am lying on this bathroom floor – it might have been ten minutes or two hours. But eventually, May finds me.

„Oh, shit. Come on. Come on, baby. Let's get you home.“

She gathers my remaining pieces and pulls them up from the floor. Then she guides me through the disgusting house and calls a cab.

„You have to tell me your adress, okay?“

She only has to ask me twice before I give it to her.

The whole way home, she doesn't talk. Just pets my shoulder.

„I'll help you get in. Do you live alone?“

I shake my head.

But Caden isn't here tonight – he's at Adrian's. I actually manage to feel thankful for that.

„I'll stay with you,“ May says, taking off her shoes in my shitty apartment.

„No. I'm okay,“ I say with what little make up I had been wearing smeared all over my face and neck, hair a complete mess and snot on my nose.

She gives me a long look.

„Can I call someone for you then?“

I shake my head.

„You shouldn't be alone right now,“ she decides and stays.

„Take a shower,“ she tells me and I do.

I break down under the stream once more, sitting down, hugging my knees to my chest.

„I'll sleep on your couch, alright?“

I nod and then disappear into my room to go cry myself to sleep.

I'm woken up by the smell of coffee and my eyes hurting.

I don't think I have ever cried this much since I'm older than ten.

„Morning,“ May says, moving around in my kitchen as if she'd be at home here.

„I could make some pancakes for us,“ she says. „Sundays are pancake days, right?“

I shrug. I honestly couldn't care less.

My face hurts and I look like I'd have fallen into a bee hive, all swollen and blotchy.

„Do you want to talk about it?“ May asks as she stirs the dough.

„She was making out with someone else. End of story.“

I cling to my cup as if it could somehow return my life force.

„You made it sound like things were casual,“ May says cautiously.

She won't drop it unless I shut her up.

So I do.

„I'm madly in love with her and she'll leave in two weeks and was apparently sleeping with other people the whole time I thought we were together.“

May gives me a look.

„I feel like that calls for more than just pancakes.“

Caden comes back around three PM and I don't want to know what he's thinking as he walks in on his sister and a complete stranger being wasted on wine on a Sunday afternoon, the whole apartment smelling of pancakes.

„Hello?“

His eyes wander from May to me.

„Hi, Cades. You okay?“

I try my very best not to slur my words and fail gloriously.

„I'm good. What about you though?“

I want to get up from the couch, but that seems very difficult all of a sudden.

„You're the brother?“

May blinks at me.

„He's black. Does that mean your mom cheated or...?“

„He's my half brother,“ I explain, leaning close to May, then losing my balance and swaying into her.

„But we're basically totally siblings because both our fathers were absolute assholes.“

I laugh as if it was in any way funny and May is laughing with me and Caden seems to contemplate if the situation calls for him calling 911.

„You okay?“ he asks again and I nod.

Then I start crying again.

The first week without Delilah, I don't make it out of bed. She calls me three times, but I ignore all of them. Neither do I read her texts.

It takes me all those seven days until I manage to block her number.

Caden is hurting for me and that scares me. If I'm the reason for him going back to the hospital, I think I'd jump out of the next window.

He's cooking for me all the time and insists we watch all the Harry Potter movies. He even reads me parts of the story he started writing at the hospital.

„You're a good writer,“ I tell him and he smiles at me.

The day Delilah leaves New York is a day like every other.

I go to work and then go home and forbid myself to open another bottle of wine. Caden said nothing to me suddenly picking up drinking as my new favorite afternoon activity, but I can see he's scared.

So now that Delilah is gone, officially, it's time for me to drop it again.

It's also time for me to make a decision.

„Hey, sweetie. How are you?“

Anne treats me like a wounded bird since I've first shown up hungover and clearly done with life.

I couldn't really get around telling her about Delilah and now I think she's afraid I might off myself or something.

„I'm fine.“

I give her a reassuring smile and get to work.

Only after six hours of cutting hair, I say: „Anne? Do you have a minute?“

She gazes at me through her glasses and I take a deep breath.

„I wanted to thank you again for your generous offer. I really can't tell you how much it means to me. But I have to refuse. I'm not going to take over the salon.“

Anne smiles at me. It feels sad and proud at the same time.

„I can't say I'm surprised. So what will you do instead?“

I nod slowly. Then look at her.

„I'll go to college.“