Able to easily tell the difference between Chandler’s playful bantering and her serious side, Helen’s expression relaxed into a smile; knowing her japes were only in jest. “Well,” she responded, tucking a strand of hair behind her ears, “You deserve to be with someone who would throw the world at your feet and brings a smile to your face.” And isn’t your professor, she added silently. Another secret to take to the grave.
“God no. I have no desire to dip my toes into someone as chaotic and dark. No way I can pull that off. Not everyone is as talented as you. Actually, no one is as talented as you.” There was something mesmerising about watching Chandler up on stage - the way she shed her own skin to play someone so unlike herself so easily. It was beautiful. She was too beautiful to ever be deserved by someone like Orson.
“Alright - first round of shots is on me. Or whatever cute Sophomore we find fumbling with his fake ID and wads of cash.” Taking Chandler’s hand, the pair walked off arm-in-arm into the night, bundles of excitement and joy. “You should know that I am excellent wingwoman. I’m thinking about taking it up professionally.”
Five minutes later, and they reached the Anchor.
Helen smiled at Chandler’s joke - mission accomplished. Chandler’s own laughter died down at Helen’s comment; in all its well-meaning glory characteristic of her best friend, Chandler couldn’t help but be reminded of the two relationships that got torn away from her the same night; one was her fault, the other someone else’s. Her face fell and she looked down, managing to keep an absentminded smile on her face. “Yeah, thanks. Not sure that’s here for me at Alderidge though. I thought it might have been, but...” she looked off into the distance, chewing on the inside of her lip, “ah, well, at least we’re graduating soon. And I get to live with you and Jonah far beyond the acceptable age to do so,” she teased, though secretly, she feared losing her best friend, and would childishly attempt to cling onto her and their college years for as long as she could. She simply couldn’t bear losing any more people.
Chandler blushed at Helen’s compliment, “thank you. I’m glad someone thinks I’m worthy of this place.” Chandler’s mind goes to accusations flung her way about ‘sleeping to the top,’ which only served to remind her of Orson, and all that she has lost. “I think you could do it, though. There’s a bit of darkness in everyone - we’re just lucky that we have an outlet for it all.” God, when had she become so depressing? Hearing herself speak, she quickly reigned it back in, “but, I guess we don’t have to worry about that. It’s in Heidi’s hands now. You’ll shine through the darkness and chaos of any role you’re given, Helen,” she smiled at her best friend, squeezing her hand as they walked to the Anchor.
“Ooh, a professional wingwoman? I’ll be the judge of that, don’t quit your day job until I have a new partner who can bring me flowers opening night.” Pushing the door open, she scanned the bar for a sophomore who could be easily persuaded to buy the pair their first round. Spotting a fresh faced boy wearing a sweater that screamed ‘trust fund baby,’ Chandler nodded in his direction as she spoke, “what d’you think? Should we introduce ourselves?” She questioned as she winked at Helen. Perhaps she didn’t need someone to throw the world at her feet - not yet, anyway. A simple distraction would do.
