My weekend started bright and fucking early as my phone buzzed, and buzzed, and buzzed, and buzzed against the wood of my bedside table. I opened bleary eyes and checked it. It was Brooke, who was one of those people who pressed enter after every few words, causing havoc to the recipient’s notifications. I was in love with a chaotic neutral.

Hey!

I’m up early and I’m bored!

Wanna do something!?

Omg I looked at the movie times and there’s four I want to see. Movie date???

I’ll buy popcorn?

Wake uuuppppppPPPPPP

Movie date?

What did that mean? Like, a date-date? She’d had her real date-date last night with Ray, and she’d told me they still hadn’t kissed. Was there a reason for that? Why was she asking me, and not Ray? Everything in me tightened with hope and trepidation and—

Crap. Today was Saturday.

Okay, so, obviously I couldn’t go to the movies. Fuck, fuck, fuck, I really wanted to—even though Brooke’s taste in movies was terrible and she hated horror movies—but I couldn’t. Goddamnit, Brougham, why did his life have to complicate mine so much? Could I bail on him? No, nope. He’d asked first. I hated people who canceled already-made plans because something better came up. I was not going to be that person. So, I’d tell Brooke I was going to Disneyland with Ainsley.

Oh, but no, I couldn’t, because she’d want to come. So I’d lie to Brooke and say I was busy doing something else … And that’d work for an hour, until one of our mutual friends saw me there. Half the school had an annual pass to the place. This was like a game of Russian roulette, if every canister had a surprise bullet.

I settled for:

I’m so sorry, but I already promised Ainsley a sister date at Disney. She told one of her friends she couldn’t come, so I kind of can’t turn around and bring you, even though I really want to . Tomorrow?

I can’t tomorrow

Work.

Gah fine. I’m jealous though.

Don’t send me any photos, it’ll fuel my FOMO and I might cry.

Was I sure it wasn’t okay to bail on Brougham? “No,” I said to myself out loud, throwing my phone down on the bed. As much as I hated it, I needed to consider this my own not-up-for-negotiation shift at work. I was getting paid for it, after all.