Wish You Were Here

Part One: Girls Trip

We're cruising down the highway heading towards LA for our annual best friends weekend. Rachel and I met in the second grade, and haven't left each other's sides since. When we turned 18 we decided to take a trip every year to get out of Bakersfield and down to LA for one whole extravagant weekend.

"Nothing will ever make me feel as much as an early 2000's emo playlist." I sigh over the sound of the highway wind.

"I think it's because that's the last time I felt anything." We both burst into a fit of laughter at my joke, knowing we're fucked in the head and haven't had feelings since 2009 probably. Once we calm down we go about our usual screaming of the lyrics, my eyes on the horizon and hers on the road.

"The drive feels shorter every year." She speaks up with a frown, the drive is one of the best parts. Two uninterrupted hours of our favorite songs, screaming at the top of our lungs in a convertible and laughing at the stares from passing cars.

I straighten up in my seat, and let out a squeak as I point to the LA exit sign, noting that we're almost there. We share a knowing sly smile, ready for our weekend of carefree, messy fun, and expensive shopping and partying.

We pull up to the fancy hotel we stay at every year, courtesy of Rachel's rich father who values our friendship and treats me as his own.

Something is different this year though, there's a screaming mass of girls surrounding the outside. I roll my eyes to her and she giggles back,

"I wonder what celeb is here?" She has a wicked grin, which is never good.

"Rach, girls weekend. You and me, focus." I keep my tone playful, but I know I'll have to keep an eye on her.

I jump the side of the convertible, while my delicate Rach opens the doors and hands the keys to the parking attendant. We grab our bags and help the attendant put the top back on just to be safe.

"Are you guests ladies? Sorry we're being a bit careful." A massive guy says, stopping us before we enter the door. I let her take this one, knowing I won't be very nice if I do.

"Yes, sir. We're here for the weekend." Her voice drips like honey as she bats her dark lashes. She always manages to put on the innocent act when we both know she's nothing but. He nods, and opens the door to allow us in.

"Yes, sir." I mock her tone and gag once out of ear shot, causing her to slap my arm. We're of course laughing hysterically, probably a little too loud.

"Hello, we have a room for two nights. The name should be Roger Taylor on the bill, but checking in is Rachel Taylor." She smiles at the man behind the desk, who types away while he finds the information.

"What's all that ruckus about anyway?" She asks once again using her clueless Bambi like innocence to con someone. I fight the urge to roll my eyes since I'm curious too.

"Some Aussie boy band or something." He mutters before turning around and looking for something.

Shit. She grabs my hand in hers, trying not to lose her cool. She's a huge fan, and I mean huge. There's no way she could stay calm if she saw them.

"Rach, your 3 O'clock." I regret it as soon as I whisper it. She whips her head around and catches sight of the two boys I recognized. The one with mousy brown curls, and the tall blonde. Her grip on my hand tightens so much I fear she might break my fingers.

"Down girl, you're hurting me." I whisper and try to pull my hand away.

"You're all checked in, here's two keys and your room information." The man smiles, and I reach out and grab it. She's got the deer in the headlights look, and I know she can't open her mouth without screaming. So I thank the man for us and drag her to the elevator.