Old Money ꔫ JJ Maybank

two

"Jesus, Harlow," Sarah muttered under her breath. "Do you always have to go for the jugular? It's just a party."

Harlow didn't slow down, her stride purposeful. "Babe, if I didn't, people like him would start thinking they could get away with it. I'm just setting the record straight."

Sarah gave a conflicted sigh, looking back over her shoulder to where her friends had retreated. "Not everyone's out to challenge you, you know. It's not New York. People are... different here."

"Different?" Harlow replied, perfectly plucked eyebrows furrowed, with a half-amused, half-pitying look. "No, they're just better at pretending they're not interested in climbing the social ladder. Trust me, Sarah, everyone has a price. Even your little poolside charity cases back there."

Sarah pursed her lips, torn between defending her friends and knowing Harlow wouldn't hear it. She'd grown up with girls like Harlow—knew how they operated, how they flourished on staying one step ahead, never letting anyone see them sweat. But she also knew that Harlow's pointed edges were both her armour and her cage.

"Fine," Sarah relented, switching tactics. "Just... can we get through one night without making everyone hate you?"

Harlow paused at the bar, turning to give Sarah a slow, evaluating look. For a second, something softer flashed in her eyes, but then it was gone, substituted by that signature grimace.

"Hate me?" She scoffed, leaning against the counter as if she owned the place. "They're obsessed with me, Sarah. There's a difference."

Before Sarah could answer, Harlow flagged down the bartender with a flick of her hand. "Tequila soda. Heavy on the tequila," she ordered. Then, with a glance at Sarah, she added, "And a rosé for my lovely sidekick."

Sarah shook her head, but couldn't stop the small smile tugging at her lips. Harlow was impossible, but also radiated a confidence she could only dream of having. She also had charm that made even a belittling comment like that make you feel good just because you were in her good graces.

As the bartender poured their drinks, Sarah let herself relax, just a little. There was something about Harlow's presence that was both exhausting and exhilarating. She couldn't quite decide if she admired the other girl or was terrified of becoming like her. Maybe both.

Harlow took a long sip of her tequila soda, her eyes scanning the crowd with a practiced detachment, like she was already bored of the scene. She wished she was in NYC with her favourite boy toy hooking up at the Plaza Hotel and watching nineties movies.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" she asked, not even turning her head to look at her new friend slash bff of the week.

Sarah blinked, realizing she'd been staring. "I'm just... wondering if you're ever not on guard," she admitted.

Harlow full on, like, visually faltered, which was so unlike her, but she couldn't help but be offended by the prospect of her being 'on guard.'

Her eyes narrowed. "On guard?" she repeated, the words almost spat out like they left a bad taste in her mouth. "No, babe. Just people watching."

Sarah tried to gauge if Harlow was joking, but the intensity in her gaze said otherwise. Harlow's expression was cool, unreadable. She was the most interesting person Sarah had ever encountered.

"People watching, huh?" Sarah echoed, trying to keep her tone light. But Harlow's eyes had darkened, almost like a warning, and Sarah couldn't help but feel like she was treading on thin ice.

"Spare me the psychobabble, will you?" Harlow suggested. "I don't like the way you're trying to get some weird read on me. It's just creepy."

Sarah's face flushed, caught off guard by the sudden harshness. Harlow's tone had sharpened like a knife, cutting through whatever tentative little friendship they might have been forming.