𝐜𝐫𝐲𝐢𝐧' 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐥𝐨𝐮𝐝 ─────⋆⋅★𝘥𝘳𝘦𝘸 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘳𝘬𝘦𝘺

𝟑𝟑. 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐠𝐨𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐧 𝐝𝐚𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬

Under the flickering glow of Joe's Pizza sign, Suki and Delilah slipped into a booth. It was the kind of night meant for anonymity. Suki's glam had worn down to a smoky smear, her eyes ringed in tired smudges of liner that told the story of too many hours spent under harsh lights, too many battles fought and lost in dressing rooms and in love. Delilah's gloss was still pristine, her hair in place, but the strain was showing. They weren't the type of girls to end up together—Delilah, polished and perpetually camera-ready; Suki, with an edge like a polished blade. But tonight, they were just two women who didn't want to be anything other than who they were.

"Come on, let's get drunk," Delilah had said, no hesitation, after overhearing Suki's hissed words into her phone in the hallway: "No, I'm not sending you any more money." That tension, that snap in her voice, made Delilah pull her aside without a second thought.

Once inside, they settled in with two tequilas each and slices so big they almost bent under their own weight. And maybe it was the tequila burning its way down, or the heaviness of all the things Suki had kept locked up, but when she spoke, she let the words spill out without a second thought.

"It's Drew," she said, her voice soft but carrying. "I love him. Really, I do. But he has no idea what it's like for women in the industry. He's so—" she broke off, a hand sweeping through her hair in frustration. "He's so ignorant. He thinks it's just about talent, but there's so much more to it than that." She leaned back, eyes on the ceiling, her voice low and edged with resentment. "For him, fame's something he just slipped into. All he has to do is keep showing up, you know? And even if he walked away tomorrow, he'd be just fine. He's got everything to fall back on. And me? I've got nothing."

Delilah watched her closely, nodding, her expression softening in understanding. Because for all the glitz, for all the parties and magazine covers, Delilah knew how it felt to be carrying everyone back home on her shoulders. They both did, in their own ways.

Delilah laughed, hollow. "Men, they don't get it. They never get it. Like sure, I'm not worrying about money now, but I don't ever want to go back to the way things were... I can't give up, and maybe if I wanted less for myself it'd be fine, and I could settle for less but I've got four brothers in Charlotte, and there's no backup plan if I'm not there to help."

Suki blinked in surprise. Delilah's world had always looked to her like it was built on shiny, solid ground—a glittering fortress of unbreakable connections. But here she was, saying the same words that echoed in Suki's own mind on the bad nights, the hard nights.

"Four brothers?" Suki said, and she shook her head in something like respect. "That must have been really tough Delilah."

"Yep." Delilah's lips curved in a sad smile. "Our mom drank too much. She tried, but she couldn't shake it. And I—well, I'm the one who makes sure they're okay. I have to."

She paused, as Suki reached out a hand, a small smile of understanding spreading over her. "Y'know, my friends call me Lila."

Suki chuckled, the sound as raw as the tequila in her hand. "Looks like we're our mothers' daughters after all, Lila."

Lila stilled. She'd known Suki had built her life on something fierce, but she'd never seen the girl behind the shield. She was finally realizing Suki had a story of her own, the kind of story that was better left buried—but that didn't make it any less real.

Suki looked down at her slice, the weight of the unspoken heavy in the air. "My mom...she was an addict." The words were spoken softly, almost a whisper. She took another hard sip, gripping the glass as if holding onto something about to slip. "I tried for years to help her. But addiction had its hooks in her, and there was no letting go." Her gaze went distant, and her voice softened. "She OD'd. Eventually."