𝐎𝐅𝐅𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐄(gxg)

Chapter 13

ROSE'S perspective

Little birds flapped carelessly in my chest. The urge to vomit—yet again— pressed hard against my throat.

I was confused, that was for sure, Emelia was high off of cocaine and more questions just jumped around in my head. There were far too many voices talking at once and trying to swallow my thoughts just pushed me further into the bathroom.

How long has she been doing this?

What does this mean?

Why most of all?

Pouring all of my thoughts into the toilet as sweat dripped down my face, I had wished I was throwing up because of a random sickness, but unfortunately, it was because of Emelia. And though it was hard to admit, it was true. The dating site, the coke, the unexpected sexual tension...

It was all too much to put into words and only one person could at least help ease the feeling. I felt around my pants for my phone, quickly dialing the number waiting for an answer, and at the first 'hello' tears fell from my eyes.

"Rose? Oh my God, Rose?" She whispered.

I sniffled, rubbing the corners of my mouth with a deep breath."Hey Erin."

"Oh Rose, what happened now?"

I held my face in my hand, "Honestly I don't know. One minute she's drinking like crazy next she's snorting c-cocaine—"

"Wait Rose, Rose... slow down. Take a few deep breaths. Now, who are you talking about?" She commanded.

I did as told before I spoke, my words coming out shaky like a broken record, " Emelia. S-she was high when I got back to the hotel. She could barely walk!"

"High? Off of coke? Oof, that would make a great headline story." She changed her voice to embody her next words: "Emelia Scott, the famous fashion designer turned crackhead!" She laughed, clearly finding this more amusing than I did.

"Erin this isn't funny. She could've killed herself!" I cried, finally flushing my insides down the toilet and leaning against the wall.

"Fine. I'm sorry, but why do you care so much? I thought you hated her..."

And I did—I do hate her. Only two weeks of working with her and she's put me through emotional hell, still, at the end of the day, she's a person.

"Rose? You got quiet on me, are you still there?" She questioned.

I nodded as if she could see me, "Yeah yeah, I'm still here. I-it's just I don't want to see her go down the wrong path, y'know?"

She scoffed, "Oh please, she's a grown ass woman. She knows exactly what she's doing and you can't do anything to stop her."

I sighed, I knew her words were true. If Emelia was going to get help, the last person she'd take it from would be me.

"Okay... well I just can't sit here and let her kill herself. I hate her guts and she's a bitch but I'm not gonna let her become an addict. Maybe if I go to the police o-or look for some support groups—"

"Rosalie. I know you are seriously not thinking about helping this woman. Think, you've been an aspiring journalist since freshman year of college. You've been struggling with money and getting a halfway decent job. If you share this story you'll become rich and will be employed for the rest of your life. Now is the time to be selfish. A woman like her and a woman like you are enemies, use it to your advantage." She deadpanned.

And as I inhaled her words, I realized Erin was wrong. Though parts of her speech were right and made sense, taking advantage of someone else's life was beyond me. Sure, a story like this for an article would be an amazing opportunity and perhaps solve all my problems. But bashing Emelia's career simply for money was low. And though my dreams have been put on the back-burner countless of times, I wasn't about to ruin hers.

It was clear, she hated me and my feelings towards her were just as strong. But I don't want to be the reason someone's hard work comes to an abrupt end because I decided to be selfish.

So the answer was no. I won't tell anyone, but tomorrow morning a talk will need to be held between Emelia and I to smooth out the uneven lines. But like Erin said, I would use some of it to my advantage.

I said my goodbye, ending the call agreeing with Erin just so we wouldn't have to revisit this conversation again. I cleaned myself up, fixing my messy curls and wiping off the remainder of my smeared makeup.

And as I went to bed, and helplessly fell asleep, the only thoughts that swam around my mind were those that consisted of Emelia.

_

"We need to talk." I started.

It was early Wednesday morning and I spent all night thinking about how I would confront Emelia. I put on my best authoritative face and made sure it was stone cold as the words (I had practiced about four times) left my mouth.

"If I'm going to be punished can you at least fix me coffee?" She gushed, waving her empty mug in my face with a lazy arm.

I grabbed the cup, slamming it down on the table with a loud thud. "I'm serious!" I furrowed my eyebrows and scrunched up my lips. She needed to know now was not the time to be an inconsiderate asshole.

Her face mirrored shock, but it only lasted a split second before a smirk, similar to the one she had yesterday, played on her lips.

And God, was it sexy.

"Look who grew some balls." She smiled, biting her lip before motioning for me to sit down.

I cleared my thoughts again, trying to shake away the fact that she looked somewhat normal. Her eyes weren't painted red, the glow from her skin had returned, and she certainly looked more put together now than she did yesterday.

At this, I produced a small smile, but just small enough so only I would notice. "What happened last night was completely unacceptable. Cocaine is not a drug to be taken lightly and I should turn you into the police." Her eyebrows raised but I only continued. "But I'm not. I will stay silent but you have to be willing to promise this won't happen again."

She nodded, "Are you done?"

"No. I'm not. You're giving me back my job in exchange for my silence. I'm not the type to go blabber off about someone's business, but I won't tolerate drugs."

"Oh, so we're playing a little game of blackmail aren't we? Although I am curious why you care so much... after all, it is illegal. You can ruin my career, turn me in and be the world's hero. Is this about money?" She wondered, her thoughts seeming to come out as they turned into words. This was the most I've seen Emelia express herself, and it was relieving but terrifying at the same time.

"I don't care about the money. Sure, the job pays well but I only intend to work with you until I get my own career started." I answered.

"Ah, a journalist. Our little encounters would make a great story. But you still didn't answer my question, why are you doing this?"

I paused, I don't remember telling Emelia about me wanting to pursue journalism. We've only talked a handful of times and within those conversations me mentioning becoming a journalist wasn't a topic.

"How did you know that?"

She rolled her eyes, "Dating site, remember? Are you going to answer my question or should I start begging?" She pushed.

"Because, as much of a bitch you are, you're human, and I don't want to witness another human's life end. Shit happens, I'm aware, but Emelia drugs are not the answer. I'm keeping my job and you're going to get clean. Nothing more nothing less."

She looked at me with annoyed eyes, almost as if to ask again if this conversation was over.

"Now I'm done." I finished, picking up her mug only to turn and fill it with some coffee.