On the fourth, Mollie’s eyes focus. She is on a bed; a large one with thick pillows and pale yellow sheets. She can move her limbs, wiggle her bare legs against the cool linen, but when she rolls over, a thundering pain whizzes against her head. “Shit. Balls. Crap.” She reaches for her eye, which only opens a sliver, but stops when she hears Layla’s voice behind her. “I wouldn’t do that.” “Layla?” “I’m over here, sweetie.” Forcing her lids to open wider, Mollie spots her best friend sitting in a leather chair next to a fire. There are slate stones stacked the entire length of the fireplace, reaching the pine log ceiling. Her eyes focus, and with a few more blinks the blur diminishes. Mollie can make out Layla’s hair set high in a ponytail and the blue cover of the book she reads. “Hey.” She reaches out a hand, calling the blonde forward and some of the tension in her shoulders releases when she feels Layla’s soft, thin fingers. “Hey yourself.” Layla stands on the mattress and walks to the other side, making Mollie loll backward as she sits down next to her.
