Page 69 of The Last Special Thing

Amelia hadn’t told her about the acid trip. When Madisson and Max returned to the apartment, she and Art were sober, wrapped in the safety of each other's arms on the couch. She had no interest in bringing herself back down by rehashing the day and wasn’t sure how she would describe it anyway. Angry squirrels, colors so vivid they didn’t have a name, and her evil alter ego?

No. It was better to pretend it never happened. Art had said that bad trips sometimes happen and held her close, stroking her hair until her tears dried. But the scariest part of the trip was losing him. He wasn’t himself, couldn’t comfort her until it was over.

As they passed the exit for the Hollywood sign, on cue, Miley Cyrus’s Party in the U.S.A. blared from the car speakers.

Amelia laughed at Madisson’s perfect timing. “You’re cheesy.”

A normal day, a one-on-one best friend adventure had been sorely missed.

“Of course, honey.” Madisson squealed, her arm hung out the window, and she splayed her fingers, letting the wind blow between them. “We’re going to have the best day ever!”

L.A. was vast, and there was no way Amelia could even scratch the surface of what she wanted to do. She narrowed her itinerary down to four spots. Their first was Erewhon, the luxury grocery store Amelia had only seen on Instagram and was dying to check out.

An hour later, Amelia strolled the refrigerated aisle, tips of her fingers trailing the fruit selection.

“I could live here,” she gushed.

Madisson was a step behind her, looking at the pyramids of fruits and vegetables. Amelia leaned closer to the peaches, smooth and blemish-free. They resembled kids’ play food.

“It looks like a Kardashian’s fridge times a billion,” Amelia said.

“How do you know what a Kardashian fridge looks like?” Madisson laughed.

“Instagram.” While she had long enjoyed Kardashian antics, she had started replaying old episodes more after she and Art decided they would be the next Kourtney and Travis. It was looking into a future version of herself, one she desperately wanted to be: the closet and that rock star wife life.

Madisson grabbed a green apple, rubbed her thumb across the skin, then bit into it. She pulled back, wide eyes with spit glistening on her lip.

“Holy fucking shit,” she murmured. “This may seriously be the best.”

They spent twenty minutes exploring the store, with Amelia on alert for a chance at a celebrity encounter. Anyone in a hat, she paid special attention to. She scrolled enough gossip websites to know that celebrities honestly believed they wouldn’t be recognized with a ball cap on.

After touring each section, ogling the low-ingredient lists and meticulous packaging, the girls meandered to the cafe section. Ultimately, Amelia forwent the legendary Hailey Bieber smoothie. She would want something to bite into at their next stop, and Madisson bought both of them a turkey wrap and a chocolate chip cookie to share.

Madisson connected her phone with the directions to Griffith Park, three miles away. With traffic, it took twenty minutes. They filled the drive by belting along to Madisson’s overly popish playlist.

In the parking lot, they rubbed on tanning sunscreen. Amelia looped her hair through a snapback, trying to still look good. She preferred her hair down and out, but didn’t want it to get sweaty for the rest of the day.

Madisson had her hair tied back into two long braided ponytails. She was applying sunscreen to the strip of exposed stomach between the sports bra and biker shorts, while Amelia packed their sandwiches into the black backpack.

Madisson eyed it. “Is that Art’s?” Her tone had a trace of judgment Amelia couldn’t place.

“Yeah, I didn’t want to mess up any of my purses on the trail.”

Her shoes would already need cleaning when she got home. Locking the car with a beep, she zipped the keys into the backpack, and they fell into step on the dirt trail.

“How long have you been together?”

Amelia talked it out loud: “Let’s see. We met on July 1st. We had our first kiss on July 4th. He told me I was his girlfriend on July 11th. So six weeks or so. It’s crazy how I dated Weston for so much longer, but it feels right with Art.”

Madisson rubbed her lips together.

“How long has it been with Max now?” Amelia asked. Too long was the answer, but she couldn’t remember when they got together. Max had always been around.

“Just over two and a half years.” Madisson smiled lightly.

“You think you’ll be able to make it work when you’re at school?”

“Yeah, I do.”