Babe- -chappell... | Sabrina Carpenter Good Luck-

But here they were. Again.

Sabrina’s laugh was dry, humorless. “And how’s that working out for you? Showing up at my door at midnight?”

“Which one? You release a new one every time I turn around.”

Chappell tilted her head. “You haven’t asked me to leave yet.” Sabrina Carpenter Good Luck- Babe- -Chappell...

“I want you to stop saying ‘good luck.’” Chappell reached out, brushing a strand of hair from Sabrina’s face. “I want you to admit that luck has nothing to do with it. You’re just scared.”

Chappell didn’t answer right away. She wandered into the living room, picked up a framed photo of Sabrina and some guy neither of them remembered the name of, and set it back down. “You heard the new single?”

The air between them tightened. Sabrina crossed her arms—not defensive, exactly. More like she was holding herself together. “I’m not the one who left.” But here they were

“You look busy,” Chappell said.

And Sabrina stood alone in the vanilla-and-burnt-sugar silence, wondering why that phrase finally sounded like a goodbye she wasn’t ready to say.

Sabrina closed her eyes. For a second, she let herself feel it—the want, the grief, the stupid, stubborn love she’d been choking down for months. Then she opened her eyes and stepped back. “And how’s that working out for you

Sabrina stood up slowly, brushing dust off her jeans. “You don’t get to write songs about me and then show up here like nothing happened.”

“What do you want me to say?” Sabrina whispered.

“I’m not acting like nothing happened.” Chappell stepped closer. “I’m acting like you’re still lying to yourself.”

Chappell didn’t flinch. She just smiled—sad, knowing, infuriating. “Good luck, Babe.”