Much to the Levy sisters’ delight, Roxy was staying the weekend in their apartment. How the blonde was able to convince her strict suburban parents to let her sleep over in the city (especially after the nipple incident) was lost on Diane but she could only assume that she had talked her father’s ear off with her penchant for strong vocabulary usage and stubborn pursuit. It was something she found endearing. Rarely was she able to find someone with whom she could talk and debate with about pressing topics and fall back into place with so readily.

This may come as a shock, but Diane hadn’t planned on staying home tonight. She decided weeks ago that when she finally got her hands on Roxy for more than an evening she’d show her all of her favorite things of New York. Sure, Roxy wasn’t a stranger to the city, but the fact remained that a girl from a swamp town two hours north didn’t know New York like a local. Field parties in an upstate farm simply weren’t on the menu with Diane Levy at the helm.

Evening was fast approaching. They hadn’t eaten since Roxy had arrived, so she had figured it would be best to go somewhere to grab a bite before heading downtown.

Roxy was currently in the youngest Levy’s room, playing records and catching up with one another as old friends did. Diane slotted herself in Debbie’s doorway and watched them for a moment. Her sister’s long blue hair fanned out over a bleached Clash shirt (courtesy of Roxy) (Diane wasn’t sure that Debbie had even listened to the Clash before) while Roxy weaved their legs together.

Something started gnawing at her in her chest at the sight of her sister wrapped around her best friend. She did her best to shake off the feeling.

“Hey,” Diane starts. “d’ya wanna head out tonight?”

Roxy doesn’t miss a beat. “Where to?”

“There’s this tiki place in Brooklyn that doesn’t card.”

“Diane, you’re an idiot.” Debbie says.

The two older girls throw Debbie confused glances. The blue haired girl then huffs and crosses her arms.

“Uh, hello? It’s second Friday?”

Diane’s eyes widen. Of course! God, her memory must be deteriorating exponentially.

“Is second Friday... good?” Roxy asks hesitantly. She’s doing that thing that makes her look like she’s about to break, shoulders hunched like a wounded animal. Realization struck Diane.

“Oh,” Diane says, “there’s a place we go to on second Friday’s. Bella runs it.”

Roxy nods her head in acknowledgment. There's obvious relief in her expression. 

“We’ll get ready to head out then.”

Diane slunk back to her room and the sound of Roxy padding behind her to get dressed quickly filled her ears. She soon found her waist caught in the strong grip of Roxy's arms. She leans into the touch, slightly.

Roxy quickly shuffled to her bag tossed in the corner of Diane’s room and rooted through her clothes. She pulled out a pair of leather pants, a bleach splattered Smokey the Bear shirt, and a three sizes too big Carhartt hoodie with a few hand sewn patches scattered on the fabric that Diane didn’t recognize.

She turns her head as Roxy changes. Roxy wasn’t exactly a prude, but there were things that she knew the blonde wanted to keep to herself. She’d seen the green and blue watercolor splotches that covered her friend’s milky white skin. She’d heard her scream in her sleep. She knows. She doesn’t know, but. She knows.

Diane exchanges her sweater for a cropped black and white striped polo and loops an o ring belt, complete with chains, around her waist. Her black shorts worked well with her outfit and her makeup only needed a quick touch up before they left. Maybe a tad more glitter, but it was mostly good.

She turns around to see Roxy pulling her chains out of her shirt. The sheer amount of jewelry the girl wore on a regular basis was startling, easily reaching double digits. The tight leather pants hugged her muscular calves and thighs. It was in these moments that Diane remembered what being a boxer truly constituted. It turned the physique of anyone, even the softest of people, into capable spartans. She could relate to the power of competitive sport from her time on the swim team, but it was no doubt different. While Diane was svelte and covered in smooth planes of muscle, Roxy had earned thick slabs of muscle that wedged between her soft curves.

Her friend catches her gaze. It’s a confused little smile and a quick shake of her head as she pulls her shirt over her head. Diane scolds herself because that could have easily been misconstrued for anything.

Roxy bumps into Diane’s shoulder and she snaps out of whatever contemplative haze she was in.

“You’re lookin’ good, babes. Are we gonna head out?”

Diane nods, smiling. “As soon as Deb’s ready,” she says, and then yells out, “Debbie!”

Diane takes a final appreciative glance at Roxy. “I think you look really nice too.”

“Oh, I know. I saw.” Roxy’s face splits into a smile and she laughs as Diane hides her blush with her hand.