4 – Glass: Half-Full
Something I’ve always heard from other artists and musicians alike is that when your heart is aching, that’s the best time to create. While language is our primary medium of emotional communication, it’s far from the only one – it’s just the easiest one to translate. Even though the voice in our mind speaks a language that sounds like the one we speak with our mouths, it's different to some degree. That’s why we may end up speechless when we feel certain things. It's why, when words fail us, creative expression is said to be the next best thing.
At least, that’s what some people would lead you to believe. But I’ve never understood how people are able to create when they feel angry, or sad, or any other kind of negative emotion. When I feel like I do right now, those feelings are all-encompassing. If anything, it’s only become more of a challenge to translate these feelings into anything creative.
As soon as I got home, I got dressed in an old band t-shirt and shorts, sat down on my couch, and started aimlessly strumming on my guitar, thinking I’d be able to come up with the ballad of the century. All the conditions are perfect – I'd just been through a violent and semi-traumatic event, and I had to watch the girl I’ve been pining over for months almost kiss someone else. My heart was aching, and it should be full of chords and melodies, but not a single one sounded right. Even while playing the most harmonious notes in the brightest of keys, every melody I played felt dark and dissonant.
“C chord… F chord… C major seven chord… wait, shit, that’s already a song I know,” I mutter to myself in defeat, “Ugh, how do people do this?”
My attention was suddenly ripped away from the fretboard as I heard someone fiddling around with the door to my apartment. It sounded like they were trying to pick the deadbolt lock. Recalling one of the two conversations I had on the bus ride home, I knew that could only mean one thing.
“It’s not locked, Rarity,” I said, loud enough for her to hear me through the door. A few seconds of silent, unseen embarrassment later, she turned the knob and swung the door open.
Rarity was glaring at me with a fiery anger in her eyes. I returned her gesture with a sly grin.
“Did I, or did I not tell you to text me when you got home?” she yelled as she slammed the door shut behind her. She was carrying her purse around her arm, while her hand held a clear plastic bag carrying a brown paper bag. I couldn’t tell what was in the second bag from this far away, only a vague outline as the bag hung next to her purple skirt.
“You did,” I confessed, “but I knew you’d come over anyway. Why else do you think I left the door unlocked?”
She sighed as her expression softened, though still clearly annoyed. Her eyes scanned my messy apartment, darting to the unfolded laundry draped on my furniture, then the empty takeout boxes on the coffee table, then the sink half-full of dishes. After a few seconds, her nose slightly crinkled.
“Goodness, you could have at least picked up a little bit before I arrived,” she groaned.
I rolled my eyes at her. “I’m glad you stopped by. I wasn’t sure if I had enough reasons to feel bad about myself,” I snarked. While I didn't feel good about myself, her comments left me unbothered for the most part. Judging by her awkward expression, she must have thought I was serious.
“I suppose I've seen worse. This is nothing compared to how Rainbow Dash’s room looks,” she replied, walking to the kitchen and placing the plastic bag on the counter. “Now, where do you keep your glassware?”
“Above the sink.” I went back to strumming my guitar, ignoring the sound of her rummaging through the cabinets in my kitchen. I began to name the chords I played as I tried to find the right combination of notes. “A minor… F major seven… C over E… C add nine over–”
“Sunset, I said glassware,” shouted Rarity from the kitchen, “All I see here is plastic.”
My brow furrowed. I turned around to face her, “Rarity, I work part-time at a mall. Do you really think I have the money for actual glassware?”
She groaned, “Fair point. I suppose these cups will have to do, then. Remind me to bring my own glasses next time.”
“I won’t,” I replied. I could hear her exasperated sigh from the kitchen.
She removed the paper bag from the plastic one and placed it on the counter. I could see the neck of a bottle as she popped the closure off of the capsule on top.
“What did you bring with you?” I asked.
She began pouring a dark red liquid into two equal-sized cups. “Wine,” she answered. “Red wine to be specific. My mother swears it’s the best remedy for a broken heart.”
My eyes went wide. “Wh–How did you get that? Why did you bring it here? We’re not supposed to–”
“Relax, darling,” she interrupted, a relaxed smile on her face. “My mother is the one who suggested I bring it with me. Besides, I didn’t drive myself here either, so I’m not going to be driving myself home.” That was almost hard for me to believe, but as long as neither of us were driving, did it really matter?
As I placed my guitar on the stand next to the couch, Rarity sauntered over with a cup in each hand. She took her seat at the opposite end and placed our glasses down in front of each of us, respectively. Staring at the cup, I felt apprehension at the thought of drinking my sorrows away, but I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t tempted to indulge in this technically illegal activity. Anything that could provide a distraction from the heartache brought on by unrequited love sounded appealing.
Rarity picked up her cup, bringing it all the way up to her lips before stopping. “If you don’t feel like drinking, then I implore to abstain,” she explained, “But I don’t think a bit of social lubrication will hurt.”
Did I really want to drink? Everyone always says it’s the worst thing you can do when you’re in a bad spot emotionally. But it wasn't like I was doing it alone, and it wasn't like I'd be able to drink whenever after this.
“Eh, what the hell,” I said as I picked up my plastic cup and lifted up. Rarity extended her arm, clacking her cup against mine before we both took a drink.
The moment I brought the cup close to my lips, I felt like I was going to cough. The smell was fruity, but unpleasantly pungent. This wasn't my first time drinking alcohol, but it was my first time drinking wine. My nose wrinkled and my brow knit as I choked down the burn of the alcohol spilling down my throat. As I finished my sip, I looked at Rarity. If I didn't know any better, I would have thought she was drinking water.
She looked completely unbothered as she placed her glass down. Then she giggled, no doubt because she could see the look of discomfort on my face. She seemed a little too practiced at guzzling this toxic substance.
Rarity broke the ice. “Now, tell me what happened with–”
Putting my hand up, I interrupted her. “Hold it. Before we talk about anything else, I need answers.”
She tilted her head and raised an eyebrow, waiting for me to continue. When I asked, I expected her to argue so I hadn’t prepared a question yet.
“Why are you doing this?” I asked plainly.
Her eyes darted away momentarily before meeting mine again. “Doing what?” she answered, squinting at me in confusion.
“You know, like… Everything!” I answered. As I placed my cup down on the coffee table, she looked no less perplexed than when I had asked the first question.
So I began to list everything I meant. “The conversation at the sleepover, the periodic texts about how things are going with Twilight, asking me how I’m doing on the bus after I said I wanted to be alone,” I stopped to take another sip of wine, then pointed at my cup to bolster my argument. “Bringing alcohol to my apartment because I feel bad? What’s your angle? What’s your motivation?”
“Did we not go over this earlier on the bus?” she answered, picking up her cup and taking another drink.
Placing my own cup back down before swallowing more of that disgustingly pungent juice, I pointed at her. “See, I knew you were gonna say that,” I argued, “but you didn’t tell me your motivation. You just told me to trust you.”
“Okay?" Rarity pursed her lips, looking at me incredulously. "Have I given you a reason not to trust me?”
I shook my head. “No, you haven’t. And I’ll be honest, I’m really grateful for that! But that’s part of what makes this so confusing. When you finally got me to admit my feelings, I thought for sure it would only be a few days tops before all the other girls heard about it.”
“Yes, and? I fail to see what the problem is,” she insisted.
“It’s not a problem, it’s just–” I stopped, looking down at my glass and grabbing my chin pensively. She took another sip and kept staring at me with her eyebrow raised.
“I just don’t get it,” I appealed, “I’m not trying to be mean, but you have a reputation for being a gossip queen. When news gets to you, it's usually only a matter of time until it gets to everyone else.”
After those words left my mouth, I was worried that might sound insulting. The way she responded made it seem like it was a point of pride to her. She just shrugged and smirked, tilting her head toward me in agreement as she took another sip.
“So why is this different? Why am I different? Why are you so determined to help me? Even after I have outright rejected your help, you’re still trying to. And like I said, don’t think I’m not grateful – I absolutely am – but if you really want to help me, we have to come to some kind of understanding.”
The room went silent for a few seconds after my rant concluded. Rarity looked at me, taking another drink before placing her cup back down. The tension in the room was thick. At least, I thought it was. Maybe the wine was already messing with my head. I hadn’t eaten anything since breakfast that morning after all, so maybe it was hitting me a little quick.
“I understand your trepidation, Sunset,” she began. “If I were in your position, and you were me, I might not even trust you at all.” I really wasn’t sure how to take that last comment, but I did my best to ignore it.
She paused, looking as though she was gathering her thoughts. I nodded as I waited. “But what you’re asking has multiple, complex answers,” she continued. “If you insist, I will give you all the answers you so desire. But before that, I would like to make an appeal.”
After squinting at her for a few moments, I nodded subtly. "Go on."
“Let’s make a deal.”
She was determined to give me everything except a straight answer. I should have known she was going to try and weasel her way out of answering me. Nevertheless, I lifted my cup to my lips again and gestured with my free hand for her to continue with her proposal. She’d put up with my interrogation, so I at least owed her a chance to make her case.
“If you let me help you – follow my instructions, my advice, my plans – and we’re successful, then I don’t have to give you an answer,” she wagered, “You’ll have no need to know why I helped you. It will be a moot point.”
Tightening my lips, I raised an eyebrow. “And what defines success? I could be chasing Twilight for months, if not years from now. That’s kind of a nebulous goal, isn’t it?”
She laughed and shook her head. "I promise you, darling, this will not take anywhere close to a year. If I’m correct – and I’ve no reason to doubt myself – you’ll have your chance in a few months’ time. As long as you do what I say, and so long as everything goes according to plan, you two will be an item before the end of fall.”
“Okay, and what happens if we don’t succeed?”
She took another drink of wine. “I will tell you absolutely everything about why I'm so adamant about assisting you, and I will spare no details whatsoever. Do we have a deal?”
The room was silent for a couple of minutes as I contemplated my decision.
“I’ll give you a moment to mull it over while I fetch more wine,” she remarked.
Realizing how woozy I was already feeling, I decided against drinking anymore until I was satisfied with what she told me. Placing my cup down once more, I grabbed my chin. Half of me wanted to just say “Deal!” and move on to whatever plan she had in store. The other half of me was hung up on her non-answer. If there were multiple reasons she was helping me, what could it hurt for me to know at least one of them?
As much reason as Rarity had given me to trust her thus far, I just wasn’t willing to go along with it not knowing much. Even less satisfying was the prospect of never knowing anything at all. Even if I ended up with Twilight, I’d always wonder why she’d gone to such great lengths to help me with something she had nothing to gain from.
Rarity placed her cup down and sat on the couch again. “Have you reached your verdict?”
“I have, your honor,” I joked. “Let’s compromise.”
She seemed a little uncomfortable as she looked around the room, but, after a few seconds of silence, she nodded. “Okay. How so?”
“You said there are multiple reasons you’re helping me, right?” I asked.
She nodded again.
“There has to be at least one reason you’re willing to tell me,” I went on. “It doesn’t have to be a long, well-thought-out answer. I just need something. I can’t agree to this without knowing anything.”
Rarity picked up her cup and took a sip. That sip turned into multiple chugs. I thought she was going to down the whole cup at once. I was getting a little concerned, but eventually she placed the glass back down with an exhale. It was only half-full now. I began taking another sip of wine myself, breaking my earlier promise. Her pause continued for what felt like another few minutes before she finally spoke up.
"Here's a reason," she said, pausing to clear her throat. “Twilight is as gay as they come. Right now, she’s trying to trick herself into thinking she’s not, and it makes me ill just to watch.”
Specks of red splashed onto my face as I barely managed to spit my drink back into my cup. I just couldn’t help but laugh at how matter-of-fact her statement was. I wiped my face off with my shirt. “How can you be so sure of that?”
Her response was only a sly smile and a wink. At first I was confused, but as the gears in my semi-intoxicated mind started to turn, I realized her implication.
“Wait, so you’re–?”
Before I could finish my question, she nodded. “Let’s just say there’s a rather personal reason most of the clothes I design are for feminine bodies. That's something I’ve never shared with anyone, so there – you can consider that my collateral if I expose your secret as well.”
I shook my head. “Even if you told everyone in the whole school, I would never dream of doing that to you,” I reassured her, “That’s just cruel. I don’t even think I’d have done that when I was… you know, the way I used to be.”
“So, does that satisfy your curiosity?” she asked. “Because if so, I’d like to get down to brass tacks before I’m completely shit-faced.”
I laughed, then nodded. “Alright, what’s your– our big plan?”
“Well,” she began, “before we discuss any plans, I need to know what happened between you and Twilight at camp.”
Pursing my lips, I grinned sheepishly as my eyes shot off to the side. “Well... Nothing, really.” Awkwardly reaching for my cup, I brought it up to my lips only to realize it was empty. This gross stuff was growing on me. That was terrifying to think about.
“What do you mean nothing, Sunset?” she repeated. I was taken aback by how miffed she sounded. "You two shared a tent! How could nothing have been the result of that?"
Setting my empty cup back down on the coffee table, I sighed. “I planned on it, and I even got close to asking a few times. It's just that every single time I was about to, I'd talk myself out of it. It just never felt like the right time.”
“So you haven't even asked?” she questioned, “This whole time, I thought she must have turned you down! Why didn’t you ask? You had the perfect opportunity!”
“Yeah, I know," I flatly responded. "Thanks for reminding me.”
“Apologies, dear. I don’t mean to rub salt in the wound, but I just can’t figure out why you wouldn’t have asked her. After all, I didn’t rig the tent card drawing only for nothing to–”
She stopped and covered her mouth. My eyes went wide as she grinned sheepishly at me.
“I'm sorry, you did what?” I protested.
She quickly held up her hands. “Now now, darling. Hear me out, okay?” Rarity appealed, “It’s been months since the sleepover at Pinkie Pie’s and you haven’t budged an inch! I just figured if I didn’t do something soon, you’d never go through with it. Besides, you wouldn’t have found out had I not said anything, would you?”
I groaned and shrugged, “I guess, but couldn’t you have run that by me first?”
“That’s the whole point, darling! If I had run that by you, you wouldn’t have even tried.”
“I didn’t try!” I exclaimed.
“But you said it yourself, you planned to, did you not?” A victorious smirk spread across her face.
“Yeah, but–” I began before stopping abruptly. She got me again. “Okay, fine. Point taken,” I conceded.
Rarity continued to hold that smug, shit-eating grin on her face as she took another drink. “Now, I know you’re hurting, and this whole Timber Spruce thing would have set us back had Twilight rejected you. Luckily, she hasn’t! That means we’re right on track.”
She paused for a moment as she looked down at my cup. “Did you want some more?” she asked. I shook my head. If I drank any more on an empty stomach, I was going to regret it.
“Unfortunately, we’re still going to have to play a bit of a long game here,” she explained, “and until then, you cannot come onto Twilight too strongly. You have to be as friendly as can be without hinting at the fact that you like her, or else this won’t work. If you play your cards right, everything will come together at just the right time."
I nodded attentively. She took another drink, placing her empty cup down on the coffee table. How she managed to hammer back two cups of wine without seeming even a little tipsy I could not figure out.
Rarity held up two fingers. “Two words: Fall. Formal.”
Looking down, I tried my best to stop myself from wincing at the sound of those two words. The last Fall Formal was when I nearly turned the school into my hoard of zombie thralls. It was almost a year ago by this point, and everyone at CHS had moved on, but the idea of going still felt kind of… Well, really weird.
Rarity picked up on my apprehension. “Now, I know what you’re thinking darling, but I promise no one’s going to care that you’re there. If anything, it’ll be a relief for everyone to see you there as your completely normal self,” she said with a chuckle. I gave a nervous laugh in reply.
“You’re going to ask Twilight to go with you the day before. No sooner, no later.”
“But what about Timber?” I questioned, “Isn’t she going to want to go with him?”
Rarity shook her head. “Twilight and Timber are not meant to last. I promise you this: when it's time to ask Twilight, he won’t even be a factor in this equation by then.”
I scoffed, “What makes you think it won’t last?”
“Well, they both go to different schools, they both live a fair distance away from each other, and, as I said before darling–” Rarity grabbed her cup and sauntered off to the kitchen as she continued, “–that girl is unbelievably gay. It’s only a matter of time before she not only realizes her relationship isn't working, but why it’s not working.”
The confidence Rarity showed in her assessment of Twilight made me laugh. “I know you already told me why, but I still don’t know how you can be so sure of that.”
“Simple,” she began, “he may be part of what makes her realize how she truly feels, but you will be an even bigger part of that.”
My face flushed at the thought. Or maybe it was the cup of wine catching up to me. Either way, my face burned. Just imagining Twilight coming to terms with her sexuality because of me of all people made me feel all sorts of emotions, some of which had no names I was aware of.
My mind continued to wander. I thought about how she’d come to that conclusion. Her cute, lithe body lying awake in bed one night, tossing and turning as she fantasizes about me. Feeling a burning sensation throughout her nerves while she imagines we're together. Muttering my name as her hands–
“I know the fact that she's with Timber is demoralizing, but you mustn't let it get to you. It is imperative that you continue to be the best friend you can be to her. That said, you must maintain balance. Be honest, but don’t be too honest. Be sincere, but not too sincere.”
Rarity shattered yet another fantasy running through my mind. I was actually kind of grateful this time. I didn’t know if that was really somewhere I wanted my mind to go just yet.
“Are all the bits of advice you give me going to sound like zen riddles from now on?” I joked. She grinned and rolled her eyes, taking her seat on the couch again.
“To be more specific, you need to treat her like you would any other friend,” she elaborated, “I know you want nothing more than to be her girlfriend, but over the coming months – especially in a month or two when her relationship with Timber inevitably falls apart – you need to act like she’s just your friend and that’s all you want to be. That means not making any moves on her, and keeping affection to a comfortable minimum.”
“I don’t understand, though,” I responded, “Won’t that give her the impression I’m not interested in her?”
Rarity shook her head, taking another sip from her cup. “The dynamic between you two has to remain balanced. You’re the cool, collected, gregarious one, and Twilight is the meek, anxious, withdrawn one.”
I raised my eyebrow at her. “What the hell are you talking about?”
Me? Cool? Collected? Has she heard how needlessly wordy and dramatic my inner monologues are? Also, I hardly even know what gregarious means.
“You have a certain level of social confidence that she lacks. You know that, and so does she,” she answered.
I sat there, silent and flummoxed. While she wasn’t wrong, I still had not even the slightest clue what she was getting at.
“If it were up to you, you would text her every moment of every day. You’d ask her to hang out after school every day. Every time you didn’t have to work, you’d ask if she wanted to hang out with you. Would you not?”
I shrunk in my seat. Rarity was reading me like a book. Again. I hate how easily she does that. Clamoring for a way to cover for myself, I stammered. “W-Well I don’t know if–”
“But you don’t,” she interrupted, “And why is that?”
“Because I don’t want to overwhelm her, I guess?” I answered uncertainly.
“Exactly. But you know you’re capable of doing so,” she replied, “And so does she.”
“...Okay?” I was still not entirely following her on this. I could see the frustration building in her face. It wasn’t like I was trying to be obtuse! It just wasn’t clicking for me. That, and we were both a little tipsy.
“Twilight is intimidated by you, darling, and with good reason.” she asserted. “ You’re outgoing, you have more social energy than her, and you’re far more confident in your ability to socialize than she is.”
Nodding along as she explained, I still wasn’t entirely getting it, but I felt close to understanding her logic. At least, I thought I was.
“But you show restraint because you know that’s not how Twilight is.” she continued. “You know that she’s shy, introverted, and enjoys peace and quiet. More than that, you acknowledge it – you respect it. That’s why she likes you. That’s why she’s fallen for you – even if she hasn't fully realized it yet.”
As she took another drink, I rested my head on my hand and thought about what she said. The picture was starting to come together. I guess I’d never really thought about it, but what she was saying was starting to make sense.
Twilight was skittish and shy – that much was obvious to anyone who spent more than five minutes around her. Socializing has never been her strong suit. When we made plans for just the two of us, I tried to make sure we’d be doing something easy, relaxing, and/or interesting to her. If there was something high-energy I wanted to do, I would ask her if she wanted to do it and always give her the option not to if it didn't sound like something she could handle. I could always tell how much she appreciated the option to decline guilt-free.
If we were out with friends and things started getting too loud, or it seemed like she was getting overwhelmed, I’d ask her if she wanted to go someplace quiet – an offer she took me up on quite a bit. The times in which she declined, she almost always stuck close to me anyway. Almost like she knew that if she changed her mind, I would be there for her in a heartbeat. And it was true, I would be.
Honestly, I didn’t do that because of my crush. It was just because I wanted to be considerate. Twilight is my best friend, after all, and what is a girlfriend but an extra considerate best friend you get to kiss sometimes? At least that was my understanding of relationships.
“Okay,” I agreed. “So then, what exactly do I do from here?”
“Easy,” she stated, pausing for a moment to hold back a hiccup. “Carry on. Business as usual. Pretend the whole thing with Timber never even happened.”
I gawked at her. “You had me until that last part,” I remarked. “How am I supposed to pretend that never happened when it's still happening?”
“Once again, easy,” Rarity slurred, standing up from her seat on the couch. “I guarantee you that, in a month or two, the cracks in their relationship are going to start to show. When they do, the first person she’s going to go to for help is her Sunny Shimmy.”
“Please don’t ever call me that again." That name gave me a good laugh, but it made me cringe just the same. I was beginning to worry about how much wine she’d had so far.
She ignored my comment and continued to explain while pacing in front of the couch. “When she comes to you, don’t try to sway her in any direction she isn’t already leaning. Let her explain everything, then give your most genuine advice. Listen first, then comfort. Advice only when asked. If you're unsure, ask if she wants advice.”
As she paced and kept lecturing me, I thought about how... Strange Rarity was. Even though she was starting to show just how sauced she was, she was still completely coherent. Everything she was saying made perfect sense after a good amount of explaining. And that wasn’t the alcohol in me talking – I only had a single glass! But here she was, well into her third, and yet kept going as if she’d rehearsed everything days beforehand.
“Okay, what else?” I asked.
She lifted a finger off her cup to point at me as she tipped it up into her mouth. “That’s the whole plan! For now, at least. You don’t need to do anything special until we get closer to the Fall Formal.”
“Alright, so say you’re right – her and Timber end up breaking up after a month or two – how do you know she won’t find another date for the Fall Formal after that?” I questioned.
She laughed as she set her cup down. “It’s a miracle Timber made it this far with her, darling. After their relationship inevitably fails, I doubt there’s a single person – boy, girl, or whatever else – who’s going to woo her enough to get there before you.”
It was hard to ignore the residual sting I still felt from Twilight getting together with Timber, but I felt more hopeful than I had since the night of the sleepover.
Still, I had to take into consideration that Rarity could be completely off base with all of this. She was a little wasted, and there was nothing saying anything she said tonight was even remotely right. But everything she said was dripping with this infectious conviction. I just couldn’t help but be convinced she was right. Was it desperation? Or was she really that sure of herself and everything else? It was impossible to tell, but who was I to question hope?
Regardless of whether or not she was right, it was hard to find flaws in her advice. It’s not like she was telling me to be manipulative or conniving, and she wasn’t trying to get me to sabotage Twilight’s relationship like some others might advise. If anything, she was just telling me to do what I was already going to do – just with a few extra steps. She was telling me not to be discouraged. She was reassuring me that I still had a chance. All I had to do was be patient and not give up hope.
“Thank you, Rarity,” I said as I smiled at her. “I’ll be honest. Before this I was just planning on giving up and moving on. I just hope you’re right about this.”
Rarity smiled back at me. “I knew you were. That’s part of why I was so adamant about this conversation.”
Our eyes met as she took her seat next to me once more. “If this were about anything else, I would tell you how much I admire the fact that you know when to quit. But, I promise you, this is not the end. You two are going to be very happy together. It's what you deserve.”
Throughout most of the night, especially as the alcohol began to set in, her tone remained loud and boisterous. But as she sat down and said that to me, her volume lowered. Her voice softened. Everything she said tonight was genuine, but that sounded more sincere than anything else so far.
But there was something else behind it.
We kept staring into each other’s eyes. Her smile was warm, her cheeks were rosy, but her eyes told a different story. I couldn’t tell if it was because she was just that drunk, or if there was something she wasn’t telling me. The longer I looked, the more I believed it was the latter. However, before I could be sure, she got up again, grabbing my cup and bringing it into the kitchen.
“Now that that’s squared away, how about we just pal around for the rest of the night! Would you like a little more wine or would you rather start hydrating?”
I thought about it for a few seconds. “How about I order us some pizza first? Then I’ll have some more.”
“Oh, that sounds lovely!” she exclaimed, “Can you order mine with calamari?”
Her request didn't register with me until I was already looking up the closest pizza delivery place on my phone. Calamari? Calamari on pizza? Who gets calamari on a pizza? Are there even any places in town that offer calamari as a topping?
“You’re weird!” I shouted from the couch to the kitchen.
“What? It’s good!” she argued from the other room. As I laughed, she did as well. Tonight was a good night, but I had a feeling the fun was just beginning.
Remember how I said I was gonna take a day off? I lied. I'm emotionally attached to this story. Even I, the author, am eager to see where this goes.
Thanks for reading 
12/14/22 Update: This chapter has received quite a bit of touching up! Huge thanks once again to EileenSaysHi for going over this and providing some much needed corrections!
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Apparently today is Rarity Day (according to Equestria Daily, at least), and this wound up being an excellent Rarity fix.
Well... I am willing to bet that Rarity has a crush on Sunset but is willing to know when to quit just like she mentioned to Sunset.
Don't taunt the marshmallow, Sunny. It won't end well.
Why am I not surprised.
Well, the marhsmallow schemes to get the nerd and the firecracker together. I can't see any way that this could go wrong. (That's a lie. I can see plenty of ways it can go wrong.)
Rarity has "multiple reasons" for helping Sunset getting together with Twilight, eh? I wonder if her main reason was because Rarity has feelings for Sunset herself, but was willing to let her go to be happy?
Whatever Rarity’s reason may be, let's see if their plan works.
Damn, something in Rarity's eyes, huh......shit....I hope she's gonna be ok
but wow this has set up a whole new part to this whole story that could really go anywhere, i have a few ideas for what could happen but im gonna hold my tongue of course til i find out for sure. whatever the case this chapter really showcases how fuckin cool rarity can be, givin great advice n gettin sauced at the same time. she's really showin some great generosity n bein a sweetheart and the interactions between her n sunset are perfect here. this chapters makin me love rarity even more im wishin her the best!!
Your question is as good as mine Sunset.
https://m.moot point?
What does clothes have to do with this?
Missing a period in the second sentence.
I beg to differ.
She's got a point there, but Twilight and Timber are both smart, so they might do whatever they can to spend time with each other even if the consequences are tough.
I hope she does. 🤞
Lol on the nickname!
She's probably drunk by now.
Let's hope not.
Remove 'I' after 'when' having it there doesn't make sense.
Fascinating! Also, concerning! Woo-hoo!