— * 𝐕𝐄𝐍𝐈. 𝐕𝐈𝐃𝐈. 𝑽𝑰𝑪𝑰.

"i think you're right. believably vague, not so watertight it looks planned." abandoning her casual posture, she shifts so she's sitting cross-legged, back straight and alert. "what worries me is if they try to verify it. if they talk to one of tallie's neighbours and they didn't overhear anything? it looks bad. i doubt the police would believe that twelve students were playing music at a respectful volume and speaking in hushed tones all night." mari took another thoughtful sip of coffee. if this were something she were writing, how would she plot this? how could twelve seemingly disconnected people come together at just the right time, in a way that didn't seem suspicious? "i think we need to make it seem as random as possible," she says finally. "tallie wanted a small get together to celebrate the start of term. she invites the people she's closest to, so that's... you, fitz, aileen, maybe stella? only her invitees also invite their own guests, because tallie is basically friends with everyone at meraviglia, and she won't really care about the party growing. so aileen invites dom, obviously, but she also invites me. dom brings emilia. you invite gemma and richard. fitz brings his sibling and chan. it was all word of mouth, nothing via text, and we can use the fact a lot of us aren't close to sell how unplanned it was."

“  random  works,  ”  genevieve  confirms.  her  expression  shifts  into  a  frown  as  they  move  on  to  the  next  part  of  their  scheme.  “  but  how  exactly  are  we  going  to  get  everyone  to  go  along  with  it.  and  more  importantly  how  are  we  going  to  make  sure  they  don’t  completely  screw  it  up  ?  ”

“i think you’re confusing YOU with ME.” looks at the other pointedly, “you can have your pick of anyone on campus..” this realisation doesn’t sadden her, her priorities far from the warm touch of another. in another life, perhaps she would have craved affection, chased after height and muscles and played the doting girlfriend, but in this life, she’s lost too much already. the thought of getting close to someone to watch them leave is too much to bear, and the thought of trusting someone just to let them hurt her was enough to fill her with shame. “all the choice in the world, and yet.. when was the last time you picked a nice guy, gen?” 

and the blush at the mention of the TA is more than the product of alcohol this time, the hot flames of embarrassment licking at the plain of her face. “ssh ! i told you that in confidence !” turns her head in an almost 360 degree motion, wide eyes scanning each corner of the bar for eavesdropping ears or familiar faces. “he’s probably got a girlfriend anyway. he’s too cute and smart to be single. he’s read all of Nabokov’s texts in the original russian. what girl would pass that up?”

pursed  lips  at  gemma’s  accusation,  her  hand  flits  through  the  air  gracefully,  waving  away  the  other’s  sentiment.  “  you  know  me  better  than  to  think  i’d  be  confused.  ”  playful  confidence  dripping  from  her  tone,  “  we  both  can  have  our  pick  of  anyone  we  want,  and  why  shouldn’t  we  take  it  ?  ”  genevieve  certainly  did,  her  philosophy  that  as  long  as  she  never  became  invested  nothing  could  ever  burn  or  break  or  turn  wretched.  she  pauses  for  a  moment  as  gemma  questions  her,  considering  her  response  “  the  nice  ones  aren’t  half  as  fun,  they  get  all  sad  and  attached  and  wont  stop  sending  flowers  —  which  never  match  my  decor  at  all  by  the  way.  ”  but  even  brushing  it  off  gen  can’t  pretend  that  gemma  hasn’t  touched  on  something  true.  

“  i’ve  already  checked,  no  one  can  hear  us,  ”  she  smiles  as  gemma  scans  the  room.  “  who  cares  if  he  has  a  girlfriend,  she  couldn’t  possibly  be  as  beautiful  or  as  smart  as  you.  steal  him  away,  it  can  be  like  something  from  some  great  romance.  the  two  of  you  can  hide  away  in  your  apartment  and  he  can  read  you  nabakov  in  russian  while  you  feed  him  clementines  or  something.  you  deserve  to  have  a  little  fun.  ”

“ thanks gen. i don’t know what i would do without you. probably lose my mind. ” her words so genuinely saccharine it’s like toothache, doe eyes gazing at the other like she scattered the stars across the sky and golden flecks of sand over the beaches.  as though having a confidante so dear to her is so unbelievable she cannot comprehend, gemma will never understand why, out of everyone, gen picked her to befriend. 

“ really ? like who ?”  she’ll speak with narrowed, untrusting eyes, a look normally reserved for other members of the group. the smirk gracing gen’s lips is enough for gemma to know exactly what’s coming.

the  sweetly  laced  words  that  followed  were  imbued  with  a  sense  of  care  that  genevieve  would  scarcely  accept  from  anyone  else  in  her  life.  the  genuine  nature  of  gemma  does  not  appear  to  genevieve  like  a  weakness  as  it  does  in  others.  gemma,  gifted  with  intellect,  and  yet  still  she  moves  through  the  world  in  kindness.  a  girl  like  a  blinding  light.  perhaps  genevieve  wanted  to  corrupt  her  softness,  but  that  didn’t  mean  she  allow  for  her  grace  as  well.  

“  like  anyone  you  want.  you  can  have  your  pick,  ”  she  says  it  with  confidence,  as  though  the  academic  minds  on  the  campus  waited  merely  for  her  selection,  like  ripe  red  apples  ready  to  be  picked  at  her  whim.  “  why  not  find  someone  a  little  fun.  you  know  marcel  may  have  been  respected  but  his  style  was  so…  ”  it  was  hard  to  describe  marcels  style,  it  wasn’t  dated  in  the  sense  of  traditional  academia,  far  too  distinctly  his  to  be  left  with  all  the  rest.  no,  his  style  was  biting  and  precise  in  a  way  that  was  almost  classical.  “  how  about  that  cute  ta  from  dr.  lau’s  lecture  you  were  telling  me  about.  i  bet  they  could  do  more  for  you  than  just  reading  your  essays. "

"i don't have a good one, to be frank." she stretched out her legs, propping them on her coffee table with ankles crossed. "after leaving the meeting, i bought a bottle of wine on my walk home and spent the rest of the night here writing. the cashier could say he saw me, maybe my neighbours heard music playing, but nothing solid. i guess it's up to you to decide whether or not you believe me." taking a sip of her coffee, she kept her eyes locked on gen's, trying to simultaneously convey calm, rational honesty while searching the other for any flicker of deceit. "what about you? do you have an alibi?"

“  we  need  a  𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐲.  one  that  works  for  everyone,  that  no  one  is  going  to  mess  up.  the  last  thing  we  need  is  for  anyone  to  find  out  that  we  were  the  last  ones  to  see  dupont  alive  and  catch  us  in  a  𝐥𝐢𝐞.  ”  she  bites  her  lip  while  she  thinks,  a  sign  that  she  was  less  steeled  than  usual  or  that  she  was  taking  pains  to  appear  natural.  “  i  think  the  gathering  at  tallie’s  could  work,  but  it  needs  the  right  amount  of  details.  what  kind  of  music  was  playing,  what  were  people  drinking,  but  nothing  too  concrete.  it  should  be  𝐡𝐚𝐳𝐲,  incomplete,  an  inconsequential  night  we  could  hardly  be  asked  to  remember  weeks  later.  ”  a  pause,  “  and  of  course  we  need  a  reason  why  all  of  us  would  be  spending  our  night  together  that  doesn’t  find  it’s  roots  in  marcel  dupont.

she  allows  for  an  unhidden  look  of  𝐝𝐢𝐬𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐮𝐫𝐞  at  the  defense  of  aileen,  “  not  that  bad  ?  what  tallie,  don’t  tell  me  you’re  trying  to  get  in  her  pants  or  something.  seriously  there’s  no  way  you  think  that,  what  happened  to  our  commitment  to  the  𝐧𝐨𝐛𝐥𝐞  pursuit  of  gossip  ?  ”  but  she  knows  tallie  is  right  about  dom,  so  she  allows  for  the  subject  of  aileen’s  invitation  to  slide  without  too  much  fight.  she  laughs  lightly  at  tallie’s  reference  to  a  menage  a  trois  “  oh  ?  and  i’m  sure  the  two  of  you  must  have  really  put  a  lot  of  thought  into  how  you’re  going  to  pull  that  one  off.  don’t  let  your  hopes  get  too  crushed  if  my  𝐬𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬  end  up  set  on  someone  else.  ”

"sure thing, genjamin," he says with a sigh. he's as tired as gen says she is, and he doesn't like the person this conversation has turned him into, so different from the happy-go-lucky, funniest-guy-in-the-room version of fitz that their dinner club usually gets to experience. "let's go home. only question is," he leans in, lowers his voice, ever the leading man to her hollywood starlet, "whose home are we going back to?"

eyes  rolling  at  the  nickname,  a  quirk  gen  could  never  understand.  still,  the  moment  remains,  the  air  still  heavy  between  them.  she  lets  her  eyes  linger  on  his,  let’s  him  do  his  best  to  sweep  her  off  her  feet  on  the  cobblestone  street,  let’s  him  lean  in  and  speak  with  a  gravelly  voice.  she  can  play  the  part  as  well  as  she’d  like,  charming  and  deadly  like  a  siren.  she  presses  a  cool  hand  against  the  hollow  of  his  cheek,  eye  contact  unbroken,  face  still  close.  “oh  fitz,  you  know  i’m  not  that  easy,  don’t  you  ?  ”

"an attorney, yeah. corporate law. he is a hardass, though i don't think he sees it that way." she chuckles, but it leaves a bitter taste in her mouth. her father was one of the most selfless, compassionate people she'd ever known. to speak of him like this, to lie about who he is, put a hole through em's chest like a cannonball. she takes a step back from gen, desperate to escape the other girl's magnetic gaze. it felt like gen was staring through her, down to her bones. "oh yeah," she nods, "for sure."

my treat. was she taunting her? did it matter? "i'd never say no to a martini."

emilia bites the inside of her cheek, reminding herself that if gen forgot to pay her back, she could always ask dove to cover it - though she hated asking dove to cover things. "if you want, i can go ahead and pay for the dress while you finish getting changed." the last thing em needed was for gen to see her using the debit card from her local indiana-based credit union.

lips  curving  into  a  small  smile  with  sharp  edges,  “  perfect,  ”  she  breaks  away  ever  so  slightly,  beginning  to  move  towards  the  changing  room.  “  you  know,  so  many  people  have  no  respect  at  all  for  a  good  martini,  i’m  glad  that  you  do  emilia  ”

“  yeah,  that  would  be  perfect,  thanks  again.  you  can  just  let  her  know  which  dress  and  she’ll  ring  it  up.”  then,  with  a  smile  that  came  close  to  genuine,  “  you  know,  this  was  fun,  we  should  go  shopping  again  sometime.  it’s  so  nice  to  get  to  take  a  break  from  everything,  you  know  ?  ”

genevieve is, as always, an apt judge of character. she grabs his hand and his worried frown deepens, his touch curving around her arm, his thumb running, ever so gently, beneath where the skin is raised and irritated from the seawater. it does, as she hoped, tear into his heart; and dom, evergreen truth-teller, could not hope to hide that from his expression.

"you're right." if gen knows how to tug his heartstrings, then she knows better than to expect a fight. you're not the friend i thought you were, she says, and how could he do anything but agree? wince, but agree. "i mean, i'm not proud of it, but you're right, i know. chan barely spoke to me all summer, and now i'm so wrapped up in my own shit with aileen that you... i mean, indomitable, willful you, are never going to look at me the same away again."

gen is famously lethal, but maybe that's something dom's always liked about her. that his touch, still lingering on her arm, feels at home with her unforgiveness. he will try to earn it anyway. "but it does matter. if you take anything away from my ambushing you, fuck, i hope it's that. and maybe in the meantime, i can try to prove you right, right? be the friend you thought i was?"

her  eyebrows  raise  as  he  says  she’s  right,  a  silent  assent,  a  yes  of  course.  but  then,  as  he  begins  to  unravel  she  shifts  ever  so  slightly,  not  into  softness,  she  could  never  be  capable  of  it,  but  the  focus  of  her  outrage  moves  away  from  him  ever  so  slightly,  “  chan  is  an  idiot,  ”  cruelty  is  her  specialty,  and  this  isn’t  anything  he  wants  to  hear,  but  as  far  as  she’s  concerned  she’s  protecting  him  right  now,  “  you  can’t  change  who  he  is  and  that  isn’t  your  fault,  you  don’t  need  to  be  so  maudlin  ”  because  isn’t  that  what  she  hates  more  than  anything,  the  stickiness  of  emotions.  

“  i  don’t  appreciate  being  ambushed,  ”  she  says,  indignation  lacing  her  voice.  “  i  really  care  less  about  all  of  this  than  you  seem  to  think,  believe  me  i  have  enough  things  going  on  that  actually  matter  i’ll  forget  about  it  in  a  week,  ”  but  was  that  true  ?  the  first  time  she  was  ever  vulnerable  in  public.  “  but  i  will  never  forgive  aileen.  and  maybe  next  time  you’re  insane  girlfriend  tries  to  attack  me  you  could  actually  try  and  do  something  about  it. 

it’s dark in the back corner of vino vidi vici; the two girls tucked behind a table that could pose question to the status of their relationship - dripping wax in the centre, chairs pulled closely together, heads turned toward each other in passionate conversation. gemma teases the rim of her glass with a perfectly manicured finger - the first stop on their so-called GIRLS DAY! she’s still baffled by it all, having grown up in a constant state of loneliness, gen was a welcome addition to her life, persistently introducing her to new things - who knew a spa day followed by a shared bottle of wine could bring so much contentment?

“these nails are gorgeous but i’m worried they’ll chip easily. i’ve got three essays due that need typing up and i’ve picked up the guitar again - perhaps i should have just gone for a clear varnish. do they even suit me? susan (her adoptive mother - who she would NEVER call her real mom) would always force me to get french tips before events when i was growing up. french tips and straightened hair... she'd die if she saw me now.” she’ll hold her hand up in the dim lighting, a deep forest green coating each fingertip. “speaking of essays - who is going to check my three essays now that marcel’s gone? he checked everything for me - even for classes that weren’t his own. my grades are going to plummet. i might as well drop out now. ”

“  they’re  perfect,  trust  me  i  go  to  this  place  every  time  and  they  always  stay  perfect  for  ages,  plus  the  green  suits  you,  ”  she  catches  one  of  gemma’s  hands  and  holds  it  up  in  the  dim  lighting,  admiring  the  shade  with  a  smile,  “  they’re  beautiful,  ”  she  concludes,  her  voice  warm  and  authoritative.  “  oh  and  susan’s  a  bitch,  if  you  don’t  mind  my  french.  ”  she  doesn’t  really  realize  she’s  misquoting,  the  sentiment  much  more  important.  

she  drags  her  (  also  freshly  manicured  )  finger  along  the  edge  of  her  wine  glass  as  gemma  continues,  “  i  wouldn’t  worry  about  that  gem,  you  know  you’re  brilliant,  right  ?  and  i  don’t  say  that  to  just  anyone  plus  i’m  an  excellent  judge.  ”  she  smirks,  taking  an  elegant  sip  before  continuing.  “  if  you’re  really  stressed  though  i’m  sure  we  can  find  someone  much  better  to  proofread  for  you.  ”

the weekend after marcel is officially declared dead with a capital d, the seniors in his thesis class throw a party. officially, it's referred to as a vigil/group mourning/celebration of the life and legacy of marcel dupont. unofficially, chan wanders through a crowd of half-empty plastic cups and retching sophomores, wondering why the fuck he's here in the first place.

of course, he knows the reason he's here, which is that lili told him to be, and chan doesn't exactly get picky when it comes to the time and location of his drug deals. thirty minutes in, however, he realizes that he has no idea where lili wants to meet him and his phone resides dead in his pocket, making it a little hard to ask her. instead, chan scans the room, and just past some girls locking lips, he spots gen at the drink and food table. he pushes past his classmates until he's standing next to her, right in front of a condolence cake that reads marcel murdered :(. "i need to talk to you. somewhere more private than this, preferably," he says to gen, speaking louder than usual to be heard over the party music. he swipes a finger on the side of the cake and licks the icing off, cringing at the aftertaste of mascarpone. what a waste of a perfectly good icing. "it's about the other night."

she  turns  from  the  group  she  had  been  talking  to  to  see  who’s  interrupted,  scoffing  lightly  when  she  sees  that  it’s  chan.  “  what,  need  someone  to  hold  your  hair  while  you  puke  again  ?  because  i’m  not  interested.  ”    she  tries  to  turn  away  from  him,  but  he’s  persistent,  invoking  the  other  night  far  more  publicly  than  she’d  like.  glaring  at  him  and  not  bothering  to  say  a  word  she  begins  moving  through  the  crowd  to  somewhere  quieter,  expecting  him  to  follow  along.  out  on  the  balcony,  she  turns  around  and  crosses  her  arms,  “  alright,  what  is  it  you  want  ?  ”

it was such a stark contrast to see pristine, composed genevieve in her cluttered apartment, trying to find a home among the potted plants and various curios. she moved a pile of books from an armchair so that gen could sit down, before arranging herself carefully on her couch, coffee in hand, and finally allowing herself to speak. "i have to admit, you were making some sense last night too. and we seemed to be in agreement for the most part, which is more than can be said for anyone else." her gaze raked over gen, trying to work out if there was a trick she was missing, but she seemed to be perfectly serious. "i don't think it's a bad idea. where do you want to start?"

“  nothing  is  scarier  than  us  being  in  agreement,  it’s  twisted,  ”  it  sounds  bitter  on  her  lips  but  her  sly  smile  shows  that  it's  meant  as  more  of  a  shared  joke  than  anything,  their  camaraderie  unusual  (  even  unsettling  ).  even  before  their  group  dynamics  started  to  unravel,  mari  and  gen  always  seemed  to  end  up  on  the  opposite  side  of  things,  dinner  discussions  and  friendships.  “  you  made  a  good  point  about  alibis  last  night,  i  think  we  should  start  there.  before  we  do  you  do  have  your  own  right  ?  i’m  not  helping  you  cover  up  the  fact  that  you’re  a  psycho  killer  or  anything  ?  ”