"You ready to go yet, babe? Can't be late," Matt shouted as he walked past the bathroom in his and Zaire's apartment.

"One minute. I have to pee." But in reality, I was halfway through doing my makeup. Curling my hair had taken longer than I expected, so hunched over the sink, I rushed to add eyeliner on my upper eyelids. Thank goodness I had opted for magnetic fake eyelashes over glue on ones, or I would have seriously made them late for work.

Matt had managed to take some days off over Christmas, but in exchange he was working New Year's Eve. With Zaire manning the doors of the Speakeasy on the same night, CeCe and I preferred to celebrate New Year's with them in the bar.

"Hurry up, Bea! You're taking ages." Zaire pounded against the door. The banging was followed by a yelp of pain a few seconds later. "What the hell, man."

"She said she'd be a minute, so give her a minute."

"I need to use the bathroom. Whose flat is it?"

I steadied my hand and traced the black lines, surprising myself by getting them right on the first try. Five more minutes. That was all I needed if they stopped arguing. I ran my fingers through my hair to loosen the curls and zipped up my makeup bag.

"I'm out, I'm out." I hopped down the hallway as I yanked my high heels on, bracing myself against the wall in hopes I didn't topple over. "What do you have to do? Your hair?"

"Haha, hilarious. Resident comedian in the house." He brushed past and neared his face to mine, his expression closed off. "Not," he said then laughed, squeezing my shoulders before disappearing behind me.

Matt's gaze swept down my body and lingered on my bare legs. His fingers followed the hemline of my black sequin dress along my thigh and dipped under the fabric. "Fuck me, this dress! Wish I didn't have to work. Not sure I can stay away. Much rather strip it off here and stay in bed all night."

"But you have to work." I stepped closer, jutting my bottom lip out, and placed my hands on his chest.

"I have to work... And lock up. It's gonna be a long night." His forehead rested against mine and I inhaled the scent of his aftershave mixed with the mintiness of his recently brushed teeth.

I wanted the same thing.

"Bonus though, no big boss tonight, just a couple of managers." His thumb grazed my plunge neckline, and he wiggled his eyebrows, his eyes clouding over with lust. "Can sneak off a couple of times. Might even dance with you," he murmured into my neck and kissed along my jawline.

"Now that'll be something. No boss hey and locking up. Maybe I can blow you behind the bar when everyone leaves."

"You'd like that?"

I pulled my lip between my teeth and nodded. I couldn't get the image of him bare at the bar with me on my knees in front of him. He could see it behind my half-lidded eyes. Eager hands fisted the fabric at the waist of my dress and released when Zaire barged into the room, grabbing his jacket and announced we had to leave before the staff complained about being out in the cold.

"Later," he said in my ear and gave my bum a light pat as we left the apartment.

***

A small crowd trickled into The Basement an hour after we unlocked the doors. Zaire was in his usual spot upstairs, letting partygoers into the ticket only event and Matt, along with a couple of his colleagues, worked behind the bar.

CeCe met up with us before opening and was scheduled to perform later in the evening, but before that was my drinking buddy. Occupying one of the booths closest to the bar, we lined up a handful of shots alongside a couple of cocktails Matt had mixed especially for us.

Before leaving for his annual family New Year's Eve party, the owner of the speakeasy type club had the place entirely decorated in a 1920s theme. Gold, translucent, and black balloons filled the ceilings and four corners of the room. Black and gold sashes of ribbon adorned the walls, and each table had centrepieces of creamy pearl and brilliant white feathers.

CeCe and I fitted right in, me with my black plunge neck sequin dress and her in a gold flapper style dress with a pearl and black feather headband.

We downed our third shot as Matt's ex-roommates stepped through the double doors of the club and my chest tightened. We hadn't seen them since Matt moved out. Even if things were left on good terms, I worried how Matt would take seeing them again or how they would act around us. And then there was how I spoke to Dan that night at the party. I had been awful to him.

As Dan and Freddie walked further into the room, Liv and Carrie came into view and the pit of my stomach fell further. Carrie wore a dress not too dissimilar to mine, and dark curls were pinned in an elegant mass on her head.

"Oh, Liv's here." CeCe waved them over, a friendly grin plastered on her face.

I gripped my glass tighter than needed and gulped half of my orange cocktail before they came closer.

"Trixie girl, you look amazing! CeCe killer dress!" Liv wrapped her arm around my shoulders as she kissed me on each cheek and moved on to CeCe. "I'm so glad you girls are here. We're going to have so much fun."

I glanced over my shoulder towards Matt who gave me a sympathetic head nod and thumbs up, checking I was okay. Replying with my own hand gesture, I mouthed "come over". I wasn't sure if he understood what I was asking, but before I walked over to him to check, he dried his hands on a cloth from behind the bar and strolled over.

Matt slipped his arm around my waist, shook Dan and Freddie's hand and waved a hello to the girls. I relaxed against him as the group animatedly caught up with each other's lives in the last month, but an alarm rang in the back of my mind as I observed Carrie's eyes flitting between Matt and I only to widen when they were on Liv. Both women seemed to be having their own muted conversation. Finally, Liv broke eye contact with her and Carrie shrugged before leaving for the bar.

My stomach hurt and sweat gathered along my nape, but I pushed it all aside when my gorgeous boyfriend kissed below my ear and whispered we could slip into the abandoned office within the next hour.

***

Unfortunately, an hour quickly turned in to two, and I was still waiting on Matt when CeCe took the stage to start her set. Zaire hadn't been down once so far and Dan, Freddie and Liv were occupying the dance floor. I swirled my straw in another cocktail - a blue one courtesy of Dan - and slumped down in the booth, surrounded by discarded handbags and empty glasses.

As I stared into the cerulean liquid, the padding of the leather bench dipped beside me and a handbag slid across the table. Carrie placed her matching cocktail next to mine and twisted her own straw.

"Hey. You having fun?" she asked, never looking up from her drink.

The music from the band kicked in and soon CeCe's voice filled the room. The hairs on my arms stood on end as her haunting melody reached my ears.

"I guess. Waiting for my boyfriend to finally get a break so we can spend some of the night together." I don't know why I gave her that detail. The knot in my gut wasn't jealousy, and I wasn't marking my territory with that fact. I just really missed him and couldn't wait to have him to myself.

"Trixie, can I ask you a question?"

"Bea," I corrected softly.

"I guess you have more in common than I thought."

I twisted in my seat, confused by her words. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing." Carrie gave a dismissive wave of her hand but stilled. I could almost see her thoughts ticking away inside her brain and, without realising it, I held my breath until she added, "don't you find it a bit strange that you look like her? Well, mostly. You know without the–" She pointed at the scar on my face but quickly lowered it.

The back of my neck prickled with heat and my palms tightened around the stem of my glass as she so blatantly pointed out my imperfection. "I don't know what you mean. Like who?"

"Like Bailey. You have to admit even we look similar. But guess I didn't look enough like her." Her mouth twisted and sadness clouded her features as Carrie shifted her attention to the room. "It's not just the looks either. You're in therapy, right?"

Bile rose up my throat, and I suppressed a shudder, giving her a weak nod of acknowledgement.

"Thought so. I was too. Bailey–, well, Bailey was all kinds of fucked up from what I heard from Liv. You know he's not just in therapy for grief, right? He sees someone for his hero complex. Crazy, right? That's actually a thing.

"Matt's great at taking care of the person he's with, making us feel wanted. Part of the reasons I thought I loved him. He just didn't love me–" her voice petered out and her eyes, once again, took on a distant faraway look. "Sorry, I didn't mean to ambush you with all this. It's just–" she tapped her nails on the edge of the table–, "well, someone should tell you. But he has a type, so that could just be it. Yeah, sure that's all it is."

"I wouldn't know." Stunned, I didn't know what else to reply or how I was supposed to react to the information. Matt was busy at the bar and even if he wasn't, would I want to ask him at work?

"You must have seen photos of her. In his wallet? His laptop? The box he has in his cupboard? Or wherever it is in his new place."

"No, I haven't seen any around and he doesn't do social media. He told me."

"He told you so you believed it?" she interrupted. "Who doesn't have at least one account somewhere? You're telling me a twenty-six-year-old man has no social media accounts whatsoever, and you never questioned it?"

"You're lying." My voice took on an edge I didn't know I was capable of as I stood and walked away from her. How dare she assume I was clueless! But as her words sank in, that's exactly how I felt when it came to the man I'd been sharing a bed with.

Carrie followed me out of the booth until we were out of sight from the bar. "Why would I lie? I have no reason to." She scanned the room and gestured for her friend to join us. "Here, Liv. Come here a minute. She'll confirm it."

"What?" Liv asked, sipping some pink concoction through her straw.

"Tell her about Bailey. About the weird coincidences between them. And she doesn't believe Matt isn't on Insta."

Liv sighed. "I don't want to get involved. Told ya that already. Leave me out of it." She raised her hand to stop Carrie from talking and turned her back to walk away.

"Don't be a bitch, Liv, and show her."

"Will you just leave it alone," she hissed and swatted Carrie's hand off her arm as she gripped it.

"Please, Liv. I want to see it," I said, anxiety swirling around me.

"Fine." She reached into her clutch purse and removed her phone. "You asked for it." After unlocking the screen, she clicked on the Instagram logo and typed in the search bar before handing the device over.

My vision blurred as the glare from the display came into sight, and once it focused, all I saw was Matt's face in each square with a girl who appeared oddly familiar. I didn't know her, but there was no denying we looked similar. Too similar it was scary, but the one noticeable difference between us was I was damaged while she was the perfect copy. No unsightly scar marked her face. I checked the name on the account in case it wasn't Matt's but there, in black and white, was the proof he had lied to me. MattyBeeQuinn.

The only saving grace was he hadn't posted on the site since her death.

My mouth turned dry, and I could hardly move. The music and smell of alcohol assaulted my senses, and all I wanted to do was go home. I didn't want to talk to Matt or Zaire, and especially not to these girls.

Panic took over, and I needed an escape. I gripped the arm of one of the floor bouncers as soon as I gave Liv's phone back and told them Zaire was needed in the staff room. They never questioned me and radioed him down. The moment he slipped out back, I fled up the stairs and onto the dark streets. Parts of my nightmares flashed in my mind, but those tarmac roads wouldn't transform into seas of wildflowers and moss under my will.

Pushed by sheer adrenaline, I marched all the way to Zaire's apartment and unlocked the door with the key he gave me weeks ago. I could call a taxi from there. I could. Once my heart steadied and the fog settling on my brain cleared.

Once my soul didn't feel like it had been completely crushed.

***

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