Damon eyed the three-year-old, outdated phone, with its scuffed phone case and cracked screen.

“I see that. But like I said, I need a reliable way of getting ahold of you. I’ve already programmed my number in under your contacts. Geoffrey’s number is there as well if you ever need him to pick you up. Joelle, too, if you can’t get through to me for whatever reason. Of course, you’re free to add your father and friends or whoever else you want to the phone, or you can keep using your own phone in addition to this one. It’s completely up to you.”

Micah felt like he was being manipulated into agreeing, but looking at his phone and comparing it to the immaculate model in the box, he couldn’t help but acknowledge that Damon had a point.

Besides, it might be nice to have two phones – easier to keep his real life separate from the sure-to-be calamitous rom-com Damon had convinced him to reenact with him.

“I guess that makes sense,” Micah begrudgingly agreed after taking a minute to think it over.

“I’m glad you see things my way,” Damon said, like he hadn’t been truly worried Micah would refuse – like someone who was used to being in charge and getting their way. (It was nearly enough to make Micah reconsider.) “Make sure to keep it charged and on your person at all times.”

“Going to be calling me at odd hours, huh?” Micah couldn’t help but tease, picking up and examining the phone.

“Just when I need you,” Damon assured, and Micah didn’t feel disappointed at all – nope.

“So… Wednesday then?”

It was the night they had agreed to get together and attempt to get to know each other, like an actual couple.

Damon offered a short nod. “Wednesday.”

CHAPTER SEVEN

Micah had never really bought into the notion that Mondays were inherently awful.

To him, Mondays represented a clean slate – the start of a brand-new week and a chance to start fresh. Sure, it was the first day of most people’s work week, but Micah liked his job. And besides, the Starbucks a block from the station offered half-off his favorite drink, their white chocolate mocha, on Mondays.

All in all, Micah chalked Mondays up to be like any other day of the week – sometimes good, sometimes bad, but never god awful enough that he lost his will to live and do it all over again the next day.

Not this Monday.

This Monday lived up to its maniacal reputation. If this Monday was a person, it would have been a Karen. Not your typical, run-of-the-mill, asymmetrical hack job, “Can I speak to your manager?” Karen either. No, this was a Karen who left negative reviews on Yelp because “my sushi was RAW” or “the Grand Canyon wasn’t as grand as its name implies”, and whose husband was probably a lawyer because she was under the impression she needed to exclaim “I know my rights!” at least once per week to meet her monthly quota.