Best Friends or Distractions (фемслэш)

“I don’t need a new best friend,” Lydia says clearly and loudly.
Even after what she’s been through, Lydia Martin doesn’t repeat herself.
Malia doesn’t reply, so Lydia purses her lips to blow at the drying paint on her nails. Black. The same shade she’s worn three weeks straight. She’d touched it up in her car outside school, hands shaking as she held back tears and defiantly didn’t look at the empty passenger seat.