CHAPTER 3 || COOL

New York is a loud city.  It’s far from her quiet beach avalon she had going on in Malibu.  She likes the city but she’s not too fond of the concrete jungle atmosphere.  She likes the lights but not too fond of its pretense.  She loves the pizza but abhors—as in loathes—as in hates, in the strongest sense of the word—New York paparazzi.

She has to constantly be walled around by four bodyguards whenever she strolls around the city.  And right now as she arrives a popular hole-in-the-wall pizza joint, she is concentrating every fiber in her being to restrain her tongue and her temper from rude, invasive, and out-of-control paparazzis.

As a parting gift, Victoria left Amber a new set of white earphones.  Seemingly trivial, inexpensive, almost insignificant to others, it was a precious gift, laced with deep care and rare warmth that she has held onto it as though it was the remnant of Victoria’s presence following her around—something she has grown accustomed to over the years.  On a small card next to the boxed present, it read: Just whenever you need the noisy world on mute.  <3 Jie

She presses the earphones in her ears, cranks the volume up to its maximum, clutches a piece of stress ball in her sweater pocket, and exits the SUV.  Explosions In The Sky’s Your Hand In Mine drowned the voices and softened the brightness of the flashing lights.  It has been her lullaby—the song.  It has been her constant companion—the earphones.

Upon her entrance, she was met by a very charming, yet very sarcastic, “Wow.  That was impressive.  I had my phone and camera ready and everything and was going to tip TMZ myself.  But I gotta say—I gotta hand it to you Am, Jackson was right.  You’re a changed woman.”

Scoffing while pulling her in for a hug, rolling her eyes at the remark, and retorts, “You know, I could have stayed in my condo than make the effort to drive through New York traffic just to see you.  It would have spared me the stress and the risk of having to deal with the paps.”

“Oh, but you can’t resist me.”  It was hard for even Amber to deny that truth.  Amber simply could not resist Cara.

They were led to the furthest corner of the quaint restaurant and were situated far from any glass windows, far away from any prowling photographer crazed with eagerness to capture the two on photo.

“I gotta give Vic the credit though, Am.  Two months and major tabloid free—now that’s a cause for a celebration,” Cara chides as she pats the other girl on the shoulder.

Cara Delevingne.  Where does one even start with Cara Delevingne?  And how does one even begin to explain the intricate and delicate nature of these two’s relationship?  Cara has always had this in mind: Amber and her are two peas in the pod.  Batman and Robin.  Bonnie and Clyde.  Salt and Pepper.  Beans and Rice.  Amber could vouch for the same description if it weren’t for all the scanty rumors that seem to sour the very innocent nature of their simple but complicatedly misconstrued friendship, especially when Krystal is added on to the mix.

“Don’t get your hopes up.”

“Oh, trust me.  I have already prepared to have my expectations crushed,” Cara answers.  She was quick.  She was full of wit, full of charisma, and full of the kind of that Amber has grown to appreciate.

After ordering a very simple choice of pepperoni and cheese for the two girls, they seemed rather naturally at ease despite the growing stares that many have already tossed towards their way. Cara was, after all, one of the most photographed women on the planet.  And Amber was, undeniably, one of the most sought after idols in the global music industry.  However, if you look rather closely, they are, in every sense, typical, young, simple and unspectacular in their current posture and conversation.

Cara holds out her phone with a covert mission to steal a picture of Amber eating her pizza.  Amber quickly picks up on it and grumbles, “I swear if you’re taking a picture of me with even a slight thought of posting it on Instagram, I will definitely take action against your will.”

Cara ignores the threat and manages to steal one anyways.  And with one swift swipe, Amber takes the phone and holds it out far from the other.  Cara reaches across the table but ends up pitifully failing, thanks to Amber’s strong arm block.  Amber manages to break through the passcode and enables a restriction on her Instagram application.  And after successfully putting a new passcode for the restriction, Amber hands Cara her phone back with a sly grin and a victorious smug on her face.

As Cara came to quickly figure out what Amber just did to her phone, she whines, “What the hell did you do to my Instagram?  And how did you even know my passcode?”

Halfway through taking a bite of her pizza, Amber shot Cara an incredulous look, “Seriously?  1-2-3-4.  Cara, are you serious?”

Giggling at that truth, Cara, however, was able to unlock the restriction without difficulty in a matter of seconds.  “Ha!”

“What?  Did you figure it out already?”  Amber was shocked.  She reaches over to steal the phone but this time, the tables have turned and Cara has the advantageous upper hand. With instant typing and an instant click of a button, a picture of the handsome tomboy gorgeously eating her pizza has instantly been uploaded on Instagram.  Cara triumphed victoriously.

“Ha!  Bam!”  She flashes the screen at Amber who was retreating in sulk and irritation.

“How did you even know?”

Cara returns the same incredulous stare, “Really, Amber?  1-0-2-4?  Really?  Your pin code, your house code, and your garage code?”

“Yeah but how did you—”

“Who hauled your safely in one piece that one time you got so drunk that you passed out and pissed off your manager at the same time?”

Though Amber couldn’t recall that particular memory, she’s found herself safe in the hands and in the care of Cara multiple times on wild nights such as the one she has explained that it made sense how she knows her four digit code to everything.

Giving up on the passcode battle entirely, Amber resorts to reasoning with Cara about her Instagram frenzy.  “Have you seen the tabloids recently?  They’re hot on our trails because you keep posting pictures of me on that damn thing.”

Cara gave her a classic wink and smirk while taking a bite out of her pizza.  “Since when did you start caring whether I post a picture of you on my Instagram or not?”  Cara was now threading on rough waters.  She hoped for this conversation, in fact, she’s gearing up for it.  The other girl, however, focused her attention of the piece of pizza she’s chewing in , figuring out ways to avoid the sub topic that may arise from answering her question.

After chewing, in a flat remark, Amber says, “I don’t.  It’s just…”

Cara was never inclined to beat around the bush.  Instead, with head first, straight through, she goes for the jugular, “You know…she still follows me on Instagram.”

This was that kind of that Amber has grown to appreciate…and dislike.  As uncomfortable as it may have been for Cara, so Amber thinks, she never did need to make the effort to bring her up for Cara excels at doing that on her own.

Amber doesn’t even look up so much as to spell her response with a heavy sigh.  She figures, she’s just not in the mood today and frankly, she’s not in that awful state of mind to think about her soberly.

On Cara’s end, though sensitive the topic was for the both of them, Cara likes the sight of the real Amber.  Cara likes the rawness that incites the deep and profound emotions that Amber exposes whenever she brings her up.  She likes it so much that even though she hates the fact that she could only get this reaction from Amber by bringing her up, she does it anyways because it was one way for her to feel that she was much closer to her heart than Krystal ever was.

So after some quiet seconds, she prods on, “When I heard you traded your Malibu paradise for this New York prison, though I’m guessing it’s just temporary, I couldn’t believe it…Until I realize, ‘Ah.  There had to be a really really good reason and I could only think of one.’”

Dropping the pizza on the plate with her patience hitting its capacity, Amber leans back against the chair, closes her eyes, jaws protruding from her profile, controlling her brewing headache from the thunders and tsunamis now flashing and drowning her thoughts.  “Cara…Why are we even talking about this?”

And she got it—she got that reaction.  She got that rawness of frustration and desperation.  And so, leaning forward, she smiles and eggs on, “You’ll be in the same space in less than ten days.  The more pressing questions is: why aren’t we talking about this?”

Amber has done a marvelous job in keeping her distance physically and emotionally away from the topic.  New York has been hell and was like throwing herself into a temporary prison cell but she didn’t need a psychotic warden in the form of Cara Delevingne to beat the subject and beat her thoughts when she has peacefully obliged to go on her way in living.

Amber tilts her head back and presses the bridge of her nose and dejectedly whispers, “You’re giving me a headache.”

Cara retorts, “But you know I love you…in every deep and twisted sense of the word, I do.”

With her head still tilted back, she lets out a chuckle for indeed Amber knew.

“Hey Am…” Cara reaches and pokes Amber’s cheek making her tilt her head back to normal.  “All bull aside…at Billboards, just say the word and I got you.”

This finally gave her a reason to smile.  “Thanks.  I know you always do.  I don’t even have to say it.”

On the other side of the country, the young model turned actress seemed equally bemused. A familiar song played in the background of the waiting room while she sat incapacitated due to the meticulous hair and make-up crew currently performing their duties on her.

I don’t think I’m gonna go to L.A. anymore

I don’t think I’m gonna go to L.A. anymore

I don’t know what it’s like to land and not race through your door

I don’t think I’m gonna go to L.A. anymore

She couldn’t swallow listening to this song, therefore, in soft and mannerly fashion, she requests, “Can someone please press the skip button to this song?”

Sulli, her confidant, her friend and manager, gets up from her seat and does as the star has requested.  Sulli comfortably takes the seat next to her while she scrolls through her phone.  As part of routine, Sulli begins to run through the list with the very busy and high on-demand model-actress.  “Krystal, after this pictorial, it’s back to the set at two.  After you film your scene, we have to run to the Hills for your dress fitting and as soon as that’s over, you film your remaining scenes for the night.”

It was another hectic day where it seemed like everything was tightly fitted into a nice vacuum-sealed bundle of stardom—pictorials, filming, fitting and more filming.

“Billboards is in ten days… Are you excited?”  Sulli asked.

Krystal knew the question behind that question.  She knew very well the intention of that question.  But she has to play it cool, “Yeah, I guess.  It’ll be fun.”  Playing it cool was the only way she’s learned to safeguard her confidence whether it’d be in front of other people or in front of herself.  And the only reason why Sulli asked was because Sulli cared.  It’s been months since Krystal’s last breakdown.  As all breakdowns go for Krystal, it’s all induced by one person and it just so happens that that one person will be at the same event as her best friend.

“Are you gonna be…okay?”  Sulli asks carefully.

Grabbing her phone from the table as though to show her lack of concern, she scrolls through her social media and answers with a flat, “Yeah.”

Play it cool.  That’s the only card in her deck to show that she was over that one person.  That was her only expression though she still actually deeply cared.  That was her image and bravado—at least what’s left of it—to show the world that she was okay—no longer affected, no longer tormented by the existence, rather the non-existence, of that one person in her life.  She had to play it cool even when she finds in Cara’s Instagram, “@ajol_llama + New York Pizza <3” along with a picture that spoke a thousand muffled thoughts.  She had to play it cool than play it hurt.

And played it, she did.  She was cool.  Cool as a fire.

It was a question in everyone’s mind tonight.  Amber and Krystal—how will they fare at tonight's festivities?

For two years, the world gawked in obsession over the make-ups and breaks-ups of the two lovebirds.  It was on-again and off-again over and over again and pop culture jumped and ravaged at every chance it can to mock, scrutinize, gawk and fawn over the two girls’ very special and very publicized relationship.  Tonight was no different.

The world jumped at their story.  In the ever-evolving society, their relationship was marked avant-garde yet widely embraced by the public as more and more celebrities have come out proud and clean with their uality.  With that, Amber and Krystal was more than a trending topic.  They were the image, the idols, the celebrity of their day amongst the youth.  It’s no wonder why many have prefaced the award show with more than just questions of who will win Artist of The Year or Album of the Year and such.  High on that list that brings just as much, if not more, anticipation are questions that surround the two people.  How will Amber react to seeing Krystal and vice versa?  Are they still friends?  Will the two even bother to interact?

If the friends and the fans have these thoughts in their minds, what more for Amber and Krystal?

Well, the preparations, from make up to the car ride, went seamless.  The Red Carpet arrival went smooth—no signs of panic or apprehension, at least from what was shown from the outside.  And everything seemed to have settled naturally inside the arena—Krystal sitting in the front row on the right side, Amber sitting in the front row far on the left side.  The two were barely in each other’s peripheral and perhaps that was a good thing.

Amber is constantly adjusting her tie and clipping her watch on and off—anything to keep her head from turning towards her direction.  Cara leaned in next to her to whisper, “Smile.  Cameras on your ten.”

She looks up and flashes her trained smile, Cara’s head tilted close to her shoulder with a smile equaling hers.  Both their faces captured and flashed at the massive screens for at least three seconds for all—as in all—to see.

As the cameras turned their attention towards something else, Amber couldn’t restrain her nervous and anxious breath any longer.  Her leg shaking, she utters to Cara, but really just to herself, “This is going to be a long night.”

Cara reaches over and grips her knee while sending a calming gaze and soothing smile in hope to settle the tension in her friend.  However, with a very Cara-like unparalleled approach, she retorts to a satiric and charming condescension—you know the kind of that Amber likes.  She quips back, “No it’s going to be a long night.”

A/N:  Love Love Love Cara Delevingne (although her name is a pain in the to spell every freaking time).  I think Amber and Cara would be good friends in real life because they're just two of the coolest people on planet earth, like, I couldn't even begin to explain how much I love--Anyways, back to Kryber...What can I say about Kryber...well...we'll just have to wait and see XD