The Story
An infinite amount of possibilities could occur in an instant and out of all of them, I am here, staring out the window of my high-rise office building, overlooking a city I never thought I’d live in. There’s a slice of half-eaten birthday cake on my desk. Vanilla flavored with pink icing. The letter M for Mabel has been bitten into.
The sun has fallen below the horizon, leaving the sky with a pink and orange afterglow before the night settles into complete darkness. The office is empty, aside from my section, which is brightly lit with florescent lights that trick me into thinking it’s earlier in the day than it is. Rows of desks have been neatly organized by the evening clean up crew and there’s not a single crumb in sight, giving me more reasons to make sure my cake slice gets straight to the trash without any of it making a bee line to the floor.
I’m supposed to be here alone. I’d expected it, but my co-worker, August, of all people, works in my section and decided to stay late—something he never does. His fingers are flying over the keyboard a few desks across from mine. He’d said that he was working on an extra assignment our supervisor had given him last minute. She’s always giving him extra assignments, and somehow he manages to finish them on time. Every day, except for today. The day I dread almost every year because it reminds me of how time doesn’t slow down. It never pauses to hold its breath. Everything just keeps going, seemingly at triple speed.
It feels like just yesterday I was trying to avoid turning twenty-five and the thought is almost comical now. The number thirty is approaching fast, and I’ve decided there’s nothing more I can do except embrace it. Some people don’t have the same luxury as I do...of getting older. I remind myself of this every so often. It makes me less panicked, and more focused, because I know I have to make the most with the time I have, which is exactly what made me stay late today. I need a promotion...eventually.
I look at August again. His brows are furrowed, creating creases in his forehead that I hardly ever see. August and I were in the same training cohort three years ago, and what started as mainly communication through glances and company small talk evolved over the years. Now, occasionally, conversation will branch away from work, into something deeper, but I avoid it because there’s not a whole lot going on for me outside of these walls.
That’s become particularly evident today, considering it’s the evening of my twenty-eighth birthday, a Friday night, and my most interesting plans include entering numbers into a spreadsheet for the tenth hour in a row. It was my choice, but still. I could go home right now. I should want to go home right now, but there’s something about being in a quiet office, hearing nothing but the sound of fingers tapping along keys that give me a sense of peace.
I glance at my phone. It’s eight o’clock. I had told myself that I’d stay till six at the latest. I’ve lied to myself, again. I reach over and turn off the computer monitor then grab my jacket. It’s mid September, and the evenings are starting to get chilly. I’ve gotten both arms into my sleeves when I see August standing up from his chair, slinging his work bag over his shoulder. I quickly look away—but I can’t help but to look back. His jet black hair is somehow still arranged in perfect curls, which bounce slightly as he stretches his arms above his head and then pushes in his chair. Before I can discreetly look away, his eyes meet mine.
I don’t know what to do—look away and pretend I wasn’t staring at him, or just accept the fact that he probably thinks there’s something wrong with me. It’s not the first time he’s caught me staring, and it won’t be the last.
I start toward the door, giving a wave in his direction. “See you Monday!” I call out, internally cringing at myself as I realize that I’ll be walking out of the office and into a night of no plans. If I still lived in Ohio, I know Julia would force me out—take me to my favorite restaurant or to a movie or something. Over the years, I’d started relying on her to fill a void in my life, but now that I’m living in Boston, I’m on my own. I have to fill it myself, and I’m trying to figure out how to do that.
I’m reaching for the door handle when I hear August call my name. His voice is deep, velvety. It makes ‘Mabel’ sound like a warm blanket being wrapped tightly around me. I pause and turn around. He’s a few feet in front of me, his hands in the pockets of his brown slacks.
“You’re really not doing anything tonight?”
I shift on my toes. I don’t want to tell him the truth—that not only do I not have any plans, but that I’ll be spending the night in my bedroom, watching movies from the sixties that he’s probably never even heard of.
“I might...I don’t know, walk around downtown.” I’m not actually walking around downtown. I’m going straight home, changing into my pajamas and—
“I’ll go with you.”
The room feels hot all of a sudden. Doesn’t August already have plans? I mean, he’s a handsome thirty-year-old man on the exceptional end of attractiveness. It was enough of a surprise that he didn’t already have someone...a significant someone to return home to. But this? I won’t let it happen. I won’t give him permission to feel sorry for me and hang out with me outside of work out of pity. We never hang out outside of work. The more I think about it, though, he has tried to hang out a number of times, and I’ve always given him some ridiculous excuse out of fear that he’ll find out how I really am—an intensified version of my shy, reserved, office self. Usually, I can think quickly, coming up with something, but I’ve trapped myself in front of a brick wall here.
“I...”
“Mabel, it’s your birthday,” he says, as if I’m not already painfully aware. “You need to do something. Not just be on your own this time. Let me come with you. The fair’s open, why don’t we start there?”
My eyes widen. The fair? Isn’t that where all the couples go? The ones who walk past the rides holding hands and take selfies in front of the ferris wheel? Aside from seeing all the couples and being reminded of how lonely I’ve been, I suppose it sounds fun. I haven’t been to a fair in years. What I love most about it are the elephant ears, the fries, the way the rides burst with color. Maybe the fair is what I need to add a little vibrancy to what has otherwise been a long day spent looking at a white screen.
But going with August? That would be a whole other experience altogether. Ever since we met on our first day of training, I’ve gotten this strange feeling in the pit of my stomach. It’s a feeling that I can only describe as an overwhelming warmth. What’s strange about it is the fact that it only happens whenever he comes around.
August, while strong, like the other men in the office, has a distinct look to him that I’ve yet to see anywhere else. He has deep blue eyes that belong on a movie screen and light freckles that scatter across the smoothest skin I’ve ever seen. But that’s not the only reason he stands out, in fact, his looks are far down the list. He has this energy, like there’s an invisible magnet attached to him that pulls everyone in our office, including me, toward him. At lunch time, he’s always surrounded by people wanting to talk to him, asking him all sorts of questions, sometimes invasive ones, but he always handles it with a level of respect.
It’s one of the things I admire most about him. I try to keep my feelings under control on a daily basis because I know we are nothing more than colleagues, but it’s been getting harder with each day that passes, not easier.
I bite my bottom lip while August stares at me, expectantly.
“Um...sure,” I say, and the word surprises me as much as it surprises August. His brows flick upward and he just gazes into my eyes for a moment longer, as if he’s wondering if I’ll change my mind. When he realizes that I’m not—that I’m sticking with it—the corners of his lips begin to lift.
“Let’s go,” he says, and then he walks past me, a dimpled grin on his face, and holds the door open. It’s one of the widest smiles I’ve ever seen on him. I want to straight up ask him—why are you smiling like that—but I just walk through the door and talk to him about how his work day went. As we head down to the first floor, and exit the building, he tells me about his new assignment, and how it’s the most challenging one he’s ever had, yet, also the most fun, because it makes him think. We stop at the intersection and he looks up at the sky, so I look, too. The moon is out and shining and the stars are their usual twinkling selves. It’s a view a picture can capture, but not quite. There’s always a different feeling when you’re looking at something with your own eyes. Looking at the moon, knowing that other people are looking at that same moon. The same stars.
The walking signal turns green and we cross the busy intersection. It’s another ten minute walk before I can see the glowing lights of the fair in the distance, and it’s another fifteen minute walk after that before we arrive at the ticket booth. Most of that time, I mainly take on the role of the listener, asking August questions about his family and his life outside of the office. When he turns his attention to me, I tell him the story of how I moved to Boston all by myself around the time we started working together.
“That explains it,” he says, as he hands a crisp twenty dollar bill to the woman behind the booth.
“Explains what?”
“A lot of things.”
“Like?”
“Well...it explains why you keep to yourself a lot of the time. It also kind of explains why you pretend that everything’s alright with you.” He leans against the ticket booth, crossing his arms over his chest, gazing down at me, his blue eyes blazing. I’m speechless as the woman hands him back his change and we walk side-by-side through the entrance in silence. So, he’s noticed. Am I that obvious? I thought I’d been hiding it well—the quiet loneliness, the fact that I don’t really have anyone here in Boston. When co-workers ask about my weekend plans, I typically give them vague answers, not enough for anyone to catch on that I practically have no social life whatsoever.
Outside of work, the only people I talk to are my parents and Julia, but that’s over the phone. My roommate and I mainly just greet each other and talk about bills and things like that. Sometimes we’ll do stuff together in the apartment—like watch TV or play card games—but it feels like it’s out of some kind of roommate obligation to keep our relationship in tact.
I’m still processing what August has said when he stops walking and pauses, turning to me. Groups of people rush past us, roars of laughter from nearby rides fill the gap in our conversation. I start to think he’ll just stand here, staring at me...waiting for me to say something for as long as it takes me, but finally, he breaks the silence.
“If you had told me you moved to Boston, alone, you know I wouldn’t have taken no for an answer, right? I would have made you come out with me. This is the first time we’ve ever stepped out together, and I know you’ve been avoiding me. It would be okay if you had moved a few months ago...I would have let it go and figured you’d come around eventually, but Mabel, it’s been three years.” I can’t tell if he’s genuinely upset by it, or just speaking the facts. Either way, I still don’t know what to say, but I force words to come out of my mouth, somehow, anyway.
“I should have told you. It’s just...I didn’t want anyone treating me any different. I was already the new girl at work. I didn’t want to be the new girl in town, too.”
He’s still looking at me, his head tilted slightly.
“I wouldn’t have treated you any different, but, you’d know this entire city front to back by now if you had just said ‘yes’. I’m something of a tour guide around here, not officially, but...I’ve lived here since the day I was born and I could’ve shown you a few things.”
“You still can,” I say, and August’s lips turn up.
“Yeah? Well, let’s start with the fair. I can tell you about every ride...” he gestures to the flashy attractions all around us, “...every food and drink on the menu. I can tell you about the time a man almost flew off the zip carousel, because I was there and it was one of the funniest things I’ve ever seen in my life. I don’t enjoy other people’s pain, I promise, but his kid was laughing so hard I couldn’t help but laugh, too.”
“What’s a zip carousel?”
He looks to the left and points his finger to a carousel that has to be going about triple the speed of a normal carousel.
“Want to ride it?”
As much as the tame part of me wants to tell him that the carousel is for kids, there’s also an adventurous side of me...one that I’d sort of lost sight of since the move, that’s telling me: do it. I decide to listen to the part of me that’s been missing for years, and the moment I do, my heart starts racing with anticipation. The good kind of anticipation.
I follow August to the back of the line, and although there’s a lot of people, it moves by fast because we’ve slipped into a deep conversation about why Frosted Flakes are the superior cereal brand. By the time it’s our turn, I’m ready. August picks out a horse for me and a lion for him. I have a hard time stepping onto the horse because it’s in a raised position. I’m about to just head over to the elephant on the other side of August when I feel his hands on my waist, helping me up.
My breath catches in my throat as that strange warmth I’ve grown familiar with makes its return, except it feels more powerful this time. His firm hands remain on my waist, still guiding me upward as I lift my leg over the horse, settling myself onto the plastic saddle.
“Hold on tight,” he says, with a smile. “It feels even faster than it looks.”
I gaze at him, observing the way his eyes flicker with the colored lights that decorate the inside of the carousel. Everything’s so bright and luminous. I almost feel like a kid again. I grip onto the golden pole tight, which has been coated with glitter, and then I look up at the artwork above my head. There’s a line of zoo animals marching towards a rainbow with cotton candy clouds. It makes me smile, and I begin to realize that if it weren’t for August, I wouldn’t be here. I probably wouldn’t even be smiling. I’d be at home, in my bed, with a tub of ice cream, pretending that I was okay. But right now, I’m here, and I don’t have to pretend to be anything.
The carousel begins to move, starting off slow, and then quickly picks up pace. It gets faster and faster to the point where I begin to worry that I, too, might fly off like the man almost did.
“It gets faster,” August says loudly, speaking over the enchanting carousel music, and I don’t believe him at first, until it does, in fact, get faster.
“This is torture,” I say to him, and I’m mostly joking. My long hair is flying behind me as the horse slowly rises and falls.
“It’s almost over. I promise.” August says, trying to contain his laughter while I hold onto the pole for dear life.
The carousel comes to a stop less than thirty seconds later, and the horse halts in the raised position again. August steps off his lion and then stands beside me, holding out his hand. I gently grab hold of his palm and hop down. Our hands remain connected for a few seconds after I land on the ground and my cheeks flush as I slowly pull my hand away from his.
“So, where should we head next?” I ask, exiting the carousel. August scans the area and then gestures to a food truck in the distance.
“They have the best elephant ears,” he says. “You want one?”
If I were five year old me, I would be jumping up and down right now.
“With extra caramel dip, thank you.”
On our way to the food truck, we pass the game area where there’s a small audience sitting in stands. There’s a rush of laughter followed by loud dings. As we get closer, it appears to be set up like a mini version of a game show. An older man stands in front of the crowd with a microphone in one hand and a stack of cards in the other.
“And our next couple will be...”
“Them! Pick them!” I hear a person shout, and it takes several seconds before I realize the person is talking about me and August. People in the crowd look at us as we’re walking past. Some just smiling, others pointing.
“Don’t make eye contact,” I say.
August lowers his voice to a whisper. “Too late.”
The man with the microphone steps away from the audience and approaches us. He’s wearing a shirt and pants so brightly colored it could almost pass for a clown suit. His brown hair is slicked back, and he has a triangular mustache.
“How would you like to win a prize tonight?” the man gestures to the wall of giant stuffed animals that are on display where he’s set up the game show area—complete with a stage, two chairs, a giant clock, and of course, the stands, where about thirty people are sitting. The man’s smile is wide, crinkling the corners of his eyes as he looks at us. It would be hard to fake a smile like that. I get myself prepared to say a line like “no thanks” or “we’ve got somewhere to be,” but before I can say anything, August speaks.
“Let’s do it.” He’s smiling at me. “It can’t hurt. ”
My body freezes. He can’t be serious. The last thing I want right now is attention. I just want to head over to that food truck and get my elephant ear. I don’t even know what this game is...I could completely humiliate myself. I’ve never been good at games, so the thought of playing in front of a crowd—even in front of a small one like this—has my heart going crazy. I want to say: ”No, August. Please, no.” But his eyes are glistening. He looks like a little boy at Christmas time before he has found out Santa doesn’t exist, and I can’t be the one to crush his perceived reality. Unlike me, August has won nearly every company game we’ve ever played during office meetings. It’s part of the reason why his name is pretty much synonymous with the word “winner” amongst our co-workers. Of course he’s eager to play the game, it’s because he knows, with his track record, that he’s likely to win.
I keep my mouth shut and decide to go along with it. Like August said, it can’t hurt, can it? The man with the mustache, who introduces himself as Finn, gestures for August to sit in the chair on the left side of the stage and for me to sit in the one on the right.
I sit down and stare at the strangers in the stands. Who knew that having thirty pairs of eyes on me could feel the equivalent of having hundreds of eyes on me? In this moment, I don’t think I can tell the difference. My fingers tremble in my lap while Finn explains the game. It’s a game for couples. Romantic couples, but I can’t bring myself to speak up and tell him we are only co-workers. I gaze at August across the stage, waiting to see if he’ll tell Finn, but he doesn’t. He’s focused intently on the rules of the game, which are simple. Maybe even easy—for couples who have known each other for years.
We each will get a turn to answer a question about each other. Finn will ask us five questions each, and the player with the most points at the end wins a giant stuffed animal of their choice.
Finn asks if we understand the game and we nod our heads. He has us introduce ourselves to the audience, which I manage to do in a shaky voice. After our introductions, Finn hands me a miniature whiteboard and a marker to write down my answers before heading to August’s side of the stage.
“Alright! Let’s begin!” his voice is booming, getting the attention of people passing by. “August, we’re going to start with easy questions. You’ll have ten seconds to answer. If you answer incorrectly, you will not receive a point, understand?”
“I understand.”
“First question—what is Mabel’s favorite snack?”
Oh. This is easy. Even for August. I scribble the answer down quickly, remembering all the times I’ve gotten teased in the office for eating Chex Mix with my lunch every day. I have to have it, not matter what. My lunch doesn’t feel complete without it, so when August gets the question right, it doesn’t surprise me at all. The audience claps while I try to get my breathing under control.
Finn walks over to my side of the stage and I’m freaking out. I try to calm myself down by thinking about all the things I’d learned about August over the years through our office chats. Despite this being our first time hanging out, I feel like I can at least get basic questions right. I take in a breath as Finn raises the mic to his lips.
“What is August’s favorite type of coffee?”
Wow. This is even easier than the first question. August doesn’t drink coffee. He hates the way it tastes, no matter what flavor it is. I confidently write the answer on my board, and then show it to Finn. He then turns around to face August. With a smile, he shows his answer—a scribbled drawing of a coffee cup with an X marked through it.
“That’s a point!” Finn draws a line on the whiteboard in his hands and then returns to August’s side. He asks him what my middle name is, which is a harder one. I’ve never told anyone at work my middle name—Vera. My dad picked it out. He said he’d turned a page in a baby book and felt it just fit. My full name is Mabel Vera Lenord, and I’ve grown to like it a lot over the years.
The audience appears surprised that August doesn’t know my middle name. I guess in the context of a romantic relationship, that should have been an easy question for him to answer. But we are not...that. August has never shown interest in me in that way. And I know when someone is interested. All he’s done is talk to me...maybe linger at my desk during lunch time. But that isn’t interest. It’s just what work friends do.
When it’s my turn again, Finn asks me another easy question—what’s August’s favorite movie of all time? He’d only mentioned it once, maybe a year ago, but I remember the conversation so vividly. I was typing at my desk, working during my lunch break, when he came over and sat down in the empty seat next to me where our co-worker, Maggie, usually sat, but she was sick that day. Anyway—August asked me if I had seen the movie Alien, and I told him, no.
I swear, when that two-letter word slipped from my lips, I thought he was going to combust, but he just shook his head.
“You have to watch it with me.”
“Why?”
“It’s my favorite movie. Ever. I can’t continue working with you knowing you haven’t seen it.”
I laughed. “It’s too scary for me.”
Our supervisor called August’s name and he slowly got out of the chair.
“One day, we’re watching it together. I don’t know when, but on that day...you’ll know.”
I’d started to ask him what he meant by that, but he was already gone. Honestly, I’ve been wondering about that movie ever since, but I haven’t been able to force myself to watch it, especially not alone, and August never mentioned it again. It’s a clear enough memory that when August turns his whiteboard I’m confident that I’ve gotten the answer right.
“Well, well...it looks like someone’s in the lead!” Finn says, and then he returns to August. “Alright...this one is a bit trickier, because the answer could be a lot of things. Are you ready?”
August’s gleaming eyes flicker over to me. “I’m ready.”
“If Mabel won the lottery, what’s the first thing she’d do?”
I tap my feet on the ground, trying to think of my answer. I know a lot of people dream of what they would do if they won the lottery—maybe buy a new car or a new house or travel the world—but the first thing I’d do is get on a flight back to Ohio to celebrate the news with my family. I don’t think August will get this answer. He’s looking at me, as if he’s trying to figure me out and then he turns his whiteboard around.
In bold letters, he’s written: Quit Job.
Finn marks August’s answer as incorrect, but deep down I know there’s truth to his answer. As hard as I work, I’m mainly doing it so I can keep food on the table and afford my apartment. Winning the lottery would change everything for me. Maybe quitting my job isn’t the first thing I’d do, but it’s far up the list. Maybe August knows me better than I thought.
Finn asks more rounds of questions, and August and I get most of them incorrect. By the time he moves on to the final question—one for August—I’m so ready to get my elephant ear.
“What is Mabel’s biggest fear?” Finn asks, and I write my answer onto the whiteboard, hardly needing to think about it. It may be cliche, but I’m deathly afraid of the dark. I sleep with my lamp on, always. It’s been this way since I was five, when I thought I saw a scary man in my closet. Turns out, it was just a dream, but it felt so real at the time. I don’t expect August to get this question. But he surprises me when he flips his whiteboard over and he’s just scribbled the whole thing with black marker.
I just stare at the whiteboard for a moment, trying to remember telling August this detail of my life, but no memories come up. How could I not remember telling him? I may just be drawing a blank.
Finn tallies up the points, and August ends up winning by one.
“That’s a wrap! Step up and select your prize!”
August lets me have the prize, and I pick out a giant stuffed giraffe, although I have no idea where I’m going to put it. He offers to hold it for me as we are making our exit.
Even though we mostly failed the challenge, I’m surprised that we even got as many questions correct as we did. The questions August got incorrect still had some elements of truth to them, and that had caught me off guard.
We’re standing in line for the food truck when I turn to him.
“So you think I want to quit?”
He smiles. “No. I just think that if you won the lottery, an office is the last place you’d want to spend your time.”
“Oh,” I say, and there’s a moment of silence as we step forward in line. I hold onto the giant stuffed giraffe while August orders an elephant ear for me and nachos for him. Within a minute, the food is ready. August takes the trays and we head over to a picnic table nearby.
I offer him some of my elephant ear, but he declines, and just looks at me, taking a slow bite of his nacho.
“What?” I ask him.
“You remember.”
“The little things.”
“They aren’t little to me,” he says, and there’s a pause. “Mabel, why haven’t we done this before?”
I shift in my seat. “I don’t know...”
“I kept trying, but I thought maybe you didn’t like me or something.”
My eyes widen. How could August think I didn’t like him? I guess over time, my rejections to going out had compounded. But I was nice to him inside the office. We talked as friends. I’d never given him any signs that I disliked him.
“How could anyone not like you?”
I finish my last bite of elephant ear as August stares at me with a dimpled grin on his face.
“I could ask you the same question,” he says.
I smile back at him, probably showing all my teeth. We stand up and walk around after we finish eating, avoiding getting on any more rides with the word ‘zip’ in the name. Instead, we settle on a ride known for its slower pace—the ferris wheel. As we’re getting on, I think of all the romance movies I’ve watched where the lead couple ends up on a ferris wheel, declaring their love for each other. More specifically, I think of that scene from the Notebook where Noah begs Allie to go out with him. This doesn’t feel like that, though. I don’t feel the need to explain to August that whenever he’s around I feel warmth. I just sit with my emotions, letting them stir themselves into a hot soup in my chest. When we reach the top of the ferris wheel, I gaze at the moon’s reflection in August’s eyes.
I didn’t think he could get anymore handsome, but under the moonlight is a whole new level. He gazes back at me and it’s here—looking in his eyes—that a question suddenly hits me with full force.
“Did you really have to stay late today?”
August pauses, his eyes glancing away for a moment and then they return with intensity.
“No.”
“Why, then?”
“I wasn’t going to let you say no this time,” he says. “I couldn’t stand the thought of you spending your birthday alone. I could have finished my work on Monday, but I figured I’d stay as long as it took you to finish yours.”
The corners of my lips turn upward slightly as I’m processing what he’s said.
“You...waited for me?”
He nods his head.
“You didn’t have to do that, August. You don’t have to be nice to me all the time, either.”
“I want to.”
I look away from his eyes and stare at the people down below who are waiting in line for their turn. This might be too much for me—being alone with August on a ferris wheel. I’m out of words to say.
We spend the remainder of the ferris wheel ride mostly in silence, a tension between us. It feels electric to me, but I have no idea what’s running through August’s mind. When we get off, the tension lingers, but I try to ignore it.
We go to the locker area to retrieve the giraffe and August’s work bag. I’m closing the locker when I feel him beside me, maybe only a few inches away. He’s so close. Close enough that I can smell the faint scent of his cologne. The same one he’s worn every day for the past few weeks. Close enough that I can see the different variations of blue in his eyes.
We just stand here, looking at each other, and when I don’t think he could get any closer, August takes the giraffe from my hands and sets it on the ground. Before I can think anything of it, he steps forward and kisses me, closing the gap between us. The warmth of his lips against mine sends a wave of emotions through my body—exhilaration, satisfaction, joy—and I find myself wrapping my arms around his neck and bringing him closer. His fingers intertwine with my hair as the kiss gets deeper, as if this is something we’ve each been wanting for as long as we can remember.
I think back to all the times we’d glanced at each other across the office. How he’d smile at me. How he always wanted to include me. Always wanted to be around me. It seems so obvious now. How did I not see it?
After what feels like several minutes, we step away from each other, but I already miss the way his lips feel on mine. I return my hand to the back of his neck and pull him against my lips again. I can feel him smiling against me. We stay like this for a moment longer, and then August ends the kiss.
“Mabel...I...” he says. “I almost gave up.”
“I’m sorry,” I say, “for saying no all the time...I was just scared.”
He brushes his fingers along my cheek. “I promise you...I’m harmless.”
He picks the giant giraffe off the ground and holds it with both hands while I walk beside him, in a complete daze over what just happened. August kissed me, and I kissed him back. These words repeat in my head as we walk back to the office and he offers me a ride back home.
When we reach the front of my apartment, he puts the car in park and asks if I want him to walk me to the front door. Old me would’ve said not to worry about it, but walking alone at night time freaks me out, and I want him around for as long as I can have him. We walk slowly down the sidewalk, towards the front porch, and when we’re at the door, he kisses me again. This time softer, more delicate. It’s not rushed. We both know we have more time for moments like this.
The porch light turns on and we pull away. The door opens a second later and my roommate is standing in the doorway with her pajamas on. Her eyes light up when she sees me, which is shocking because Fey never looks this happy to see me.
“You’ve arrived just in time for movie night, birthday girl!” she says, and then she locks eyes with August. “And the birthday girl’s friend.”
“You mean...you want us to...”
“Watch a movie with me and Ben? Yes. We’ve been trying to find something to watch and we need suggestions.”
Fey looks at August. “You—what movie should we watch?”
August’s lips turn up in a slow smile.
“I mean, I have something in mind, but I don’t think Mabel is going to like it very much,” he says.
I playfully punch him in the arm, not wanting to be forced to sit through Alien on my birthday, and then say: “So you’ll stay?”
His smile deepens.
“Yeah, I’m not going anywhere.”
I grab hold of his hand and lead him inside of the apartment, where Fey’s boyfriend, Ben, is laying on a pallet in front of the TV. There’s a giant bucket of popcorn beside him. Fey gestures for us to sit on the couch and it feels like I’m entering a new chapter when August puts his arm around me. I press myself against his side, thinking about the future, but more importantly, about now.
An infinite amount of possibilities could occur in an instant, and out of all of them, I am here.
The End
