My phone buzzed aggressively under my pillow, like it was judging me for sleeping in despite my tragic, misunderstood actress schedule.
I groaned, blinked one eye open, and tapped the screen.
[Agency]
You have five lines today. Call time: 9 AM.
Location: Network Lot 3, Studio 5. Wear neutral glam. Don't be late.
Five. Lines.
FIVE.
I shrieked.
Like, high-pitched, banshee-on-Broadway, early-morning opera shrieked. Birds flew. Somewhere, a dog howled. And my aircon made a noise like it was scared of me.
"Oh my god, Green!" I gasped, turning to the small cactus by my mirror, who—yes—is named Green. "We made it. We're climbing, baby. From three to five! Next thing you know, I'll be doing monologues!"
I leapt out of bed like a possessed Disney princess, except instead of singing woodland creatures, I had an unwashed bowl of cereal watching me from my desk.
I didn't care.
This was momentous.
And obviously, monumental things must be celebrated.
So naturally, I grabbed my fluffiest hoodie (the one that says i Deserve an Award for Existing) and bolted down the hallway.
There was only one person i wanted to celebrate with. The only person who's been there since i cried into cheesecake and clung to him like a soggy emotional towel.
Cairo.
I stood in front of his unit, fixed my hair (messy chic, very now), and was about to knock—when i heard it.
A laugh.
A female laugh.
Nadine.
Nadine. Again? In the morning?
At 8-freaking-AM?!
I froze, knuckles mid-air, like a rejected statue.
My smile slipped off my face like expired lip gloss. Inside, more laughter.
Cairo's low, rare chuckle.
Hers, high and sparkly, like it was designed in a lab to destroy women named Elara.
I took a step back.
He's cheating on me again, I thought irrationally. We're not even dating, but my soul just got cheated on.
I stared at the door for two seconds longer, just enough to feel like i might combust.
Then i did what any rational, emotionally stable woman would do: I spun on my heel and walked away like the heroine in a breakup music video. Dramatic. Tragic. Scented like dry shampoo.
I decided i didn't need him. Or his Nadine-flavored laughter. I had five lines. I had career growth. I had Red.
And for once, I would take charge of my life. I would drive myself.
"Red," I said seriously to my keys, "this is our moment. We don't need a man. We don't need Cairo. Especially if he's too busy being emotionally available to other women. We are independent, strong—"
And that's when i hit the curb.
But i didn't cry. No. I backed up with the delicacy of a toddler parallel parking a tank, and whispered to myself, "You are grace. You are power. You are slightly swerving, but still powerful."
I drove like a turtle on melatonin. Cars honked. A tricycle overtook me. A biker overtook me.
And then i missed a turn.
And then i panicked.
And then i went the wrong way down a one-way street.
And then—
"Ma'am. License and registration."
Freaking police station.
—
I was seated on a plastic chair that smelled like expired sanitizer, shaking like a leaf in a microwave. A very dramatic leaf.
My eyeliner was sweating. My confidence? Gone. My five lines? Lost forever.
I grabbed my phone and called Cairo.
He picked up on the third ring.
"Elara?" His voice was raspy, sleepy, like he just woke up. Like maybe he had a fun night with Nadine and now he was—
"I'M IN JAIL!" I shrieked. "Okay not jail-jail but like… the pre-jail. The police station! There were sirens! A man had a clipboard!"
"Elara, what the—where are you? Why didn't you ask me to drive you?"
"Oh, you mean this morning when you were busy entertaining women?!" I snapped.
A pause.
"…Are you talking about Nadine?"
"I heard her laugh. At 8 AM. Inside your apartment. We slightly confessed and then you emotionally betrayed me?!"
"Elara," he groaned. "She came to return a book."
"At 8 AM?!"
"She's an early riser."
"I HATE EARLY RISERS."
"Where. Are. You."
I sent my location, still hyperventilating into a half-used tissue. Cairo said nothing after that. Just sighed like he was debating if i was worth the chaos. (Rude. I am.)
-
I was still sitting on the bench outside the police station, clutching my phone like a dying man would grip a rosary.
Red was inside. My baby. My tiny, dusty, traumatized baby. Probably wondering why we betrayed him by parking him on a one-way street with no warning or emotional support.
I'm so sorry, Red. I didn't mean for this to happen. You're not just a car. You're my first love. You're family.
The wind blew my hair across my face, like the universe was trying to hide me from my own embarrassment.
I wiped it away like i was in a dramatic shampoo commercial, the kind that says, "This woman has issues, but at least her hair bounces."
Cairo still hadn't come back. I knew he was trying to sort things out for me. He said he'd commute from here to the impounding lot and back.
The man literally dropped me off and ran off like a dependable, emotionally-stunted superhero.
But still. The silence was too loud. My brain wouldn't stop spinning.
What are we?
That question kept looping in my head like a bad ringtone.
You know the kind that plays that awful MIDI version of a love song? It's like that. A love song with commitment issues.
We held pinkies. That's intimate. That's a thing. That's more than friendship. Right?
We shared meals. He stayed when i cried. We made metaphor jokes about popped up. He saw me in my crustiest hoodie and still voluntarily handed me a cheesecake.
And then Nadine laughed in his unit like she owned the air inside it.
Am i being delusional?
Okay, maybe a little. But still. Something's happening. Or at least… something was.
Ugh.
I hate this.
I hate liking someone who makes me question the very fabric of my personality.
I used to be cool. I used to be collected. Now I'm a walking BuzzFeed quiz with titles like "Are You Overthinking or Just Doomed?"
I checked the time.
Cairo had been gone for almost an hour.
What if he got arrested too?
What if they thought he was the one who drove Red like a sleepy grandmother through a one-way death trap?
And then i saw him.
Crossing the street, holding a slip of paper in one hand and my car key in the other.
I nearly choked on my own relief.
I stood up so fast the bench squeaked under me. "Did they torture you?" I asked.
He blinked at me. "They gave me a receipt."
"…Same thing."
He handed me Red's key. "You owe me chicken."
I gasped. "You flirt when you're mad."
"I'm starving."
"Oh my god, same."
We didn't say much on the way home. Just tired silence, the kind you share after both surviving something mildly traumatic and deeply ridiculous.
By the time we reached our building, I knew i couldn't hold it in anymore.
I stood there, in the elevator lobby, while he looked for his phone.
And i blurted it out.
Because my mouth works faster than my brain. Always.
"What are we?"
He stopped mid-scroll.
Lifted his eyes to mine. "What?"
I panicked. "Like, I know we're not… together together. But also we're not not together? And you held my pinky. That's legally binding in five countries. So like, I don't know, do i bake you a cake? Should i get you a toothbrush for my unit? Am i gonna meet your mom? Does she even like loud women, ohhhh! or maybe she don't like because i made a scene when the first time i saw her?"
He stared at me.
"I'm spiraling," I added helpfully.
"Yes," he agreed.
"But seriously."
He sighed. Ran a hand through his hair, which—rude—made him look even more attractive in his disheveled state.
"I like you," he said.
My stomach did a backflip. "Like like?"
"Yes."
I gasped. "You like like me?"
"Are you five?"
"Answer the question."
He sighed again, like my mere presence took years off his life. "Yes, Elara. I like like you."
I clutched my chest dramatically. "That's what I needed! That's what I deserved!"
I pointed at him. "But i have standards, mister. High ones."
"Oh god."
"If you want to date me—officially—you have to court me. Like a real man."
He blinked. "I slept on your couch two nights ago."
"And yet you didn't bring flowers. Shameful."
"I brought you a cheesecake. We held hands."
"Yes! You held my pinky. That's a coward's grip."
He stared.
I crossed my arms. "Look. I'm a woman with dignity. With boundaries. You don't just like like me and expect me to fall into your arms. You have to prove it."
He narrowed his eyes. "You're going to make this hard, aren't you?"
"I'm going to make this entertaining."
He took a step closer. "I like a challenge."
I grinned. "Then welcome to the circus."
The elevator dinged.
He didn't get in.
Just looked at me like he was trying to solve a very complicated math equation made of glitter and chaos.
"I'll see you later," he said.
"You better. I'm logging your absence on my emotional calendar."
He raised an eyebrow. "That's not real."
"It's very real."
"See you, Later!."
"Okay, see you later, my suitor."
The doors closed.
And I—
Okay.
I may have twirled.
Just a little.
Like, very small twirl. Micro-twirl.
Because what are we?
Well.
We're becoming something.
And for once, that's not terrifying.
Even though i didn't get the chace to act my five lines.