... But I still think it won't happen to me. Love seems bothersome the more I think about it.
Being aromantic and all makes it quite difficult for a grand romance to happen. I wasn't entirely sure if I actually fit that label, but it felt like a good excuse to blame my lack of interest for now.
"Oh, did you just get home?"
I looked up to see my brother leaning against his doorframe. "Yeah. Don't go downstairs yet."
"Ugh. Are they at it?"
"Full on. Mum's on Dad's lap, and you know what that means."
"Endless pecks." John groaned, looking like he'd rather be anywhere else.
"Yup. I'm your saviour today."
"Right. D*mn. I wanted to eat breakfast. I'm starving." My little brother was just as done as I was with our parents' lovey-doveyness. At times, I felt it was our shared exhaustion at their constant affection that had made us so close as siblings.
"Heh. So?" he asked, following me into my room since he clearly had nothing better to do.
"So, what?"
"How many invited you to drinks last night? D*mn. I wish I could do that, but it's dangerous since I'm actually a guy and don't swing that way at all."
"Oh, shut up, John. It's because you're a lightweight, not because you're straight. Besides, you're not gay men's type at all."
"What are you talking about?! Look at me! I'm every gay man's dream, hmph!"
"Pff. Yeah, sure. Remember that one time I took you with me? Do I need to remind you how—"
"Aaaaah! Blah, blah, blah, I'm not listening!"
"I had to pay for your drinks since no one was—! Hey! You still owe me those three shots!!"
"I have things to do! See ya!"
"Tsk! This idiot. You owe me ten shots now!!"
Turning his back on me, John escaped to his room, not wanting to listen to the tally of his disgrace again. It annoyed me, but I was already aware that he'd never pay those back. That's fine. I'll remind him later and hold the fact against him, hehe.
I went into my bedroom, dropping my bag on the bed before falling flat beside it. I was so tired after an unusually long night that didn't quite feel over yet.
"I can't believe I kept this up for so long." I felt a strange sense of amusement at my secret routine at Glass of Prism. I surely needed to thank that conversation I had back in my last year of university for all of this unexpected development. I gotta say that I thought I would get caught right away but, until now, no one has ever noticed that I'm actually a woman.
With a sense of resigned defeat, I stared at the ceiling. "I don't know if I should feel happy or depressed about it." I frowned as I mumbled to myself, since it was becoming increasingly conflicting the more I got away with it.
"I mean, I do put in an effort to look like a guy when I go there. But, come on!" I sat up, feeling a fresh wave of frustration. "I was just hiding my bust this time and no one even thought I looked slightly—not even a little bit—feminine? How is that possible?! Am I THAT manly?!"
I jumped up, pacing the room. The thought that these gay men, who are usually so sharp at identifying their own, were so blind to me was maddening. "Like, come on! Isn't this face girly? I have soft features, so is it because of my short hair and my thin body? The light is quite dim at bars too, so maybe that's why? They can't see clearly how feminine I actually look? Is that it?"
As I tried to rationalise the possible factors, I stared dumbfounded at my phone's camera. I found myself looking quite feminine, unlike what others said. Ultimately, I dropped the phone back onto the duvet; it was a useless concern and a total waste of time.
"Why am I even bothered by this? They're all gay. Even if they know I'm a girl, they have way better manners than straight men. They won't make a fuss or outcast me if they find out. Psht. This is stupid. I don't care. I won't do it again anyway."
Picking up my bag, I started to pull out the clothes that needed washing. I changed into my pyjamas to feel comfy, since it was still the weekend, and finally searched my pockets to make sure I wouldn't do the laundry with cash inside.
"I'm not about to lose my money to those monkeys in the laundry room. Last time I lost ten dollars because I forgot to check." Grumbling at the many times my family had taken advantage of my forgetfulness, I thrust my hand into my hoodie's pocket, hopeful to find a hidden treasure.
"Hm? Oh? Oho? Did I actually—? Oh, a napkin. Hm? It has something written on it?"
I unfolded the crumpled paper, noticing there was something tucked inside. "Uh? It's that guy's phone number. When did he slip it into my pocket?"
Looking at it, I pondered blankly for a moment, noting how large and bold the numbers were. "8403937846… so this is Xavier's phone number."
"Layna! Come down already! Or Dad will eat all of your waffles!"
"Gasp! No way! Dad!! Stay away from my food!"
Crumpling the piece of paper and rushing because of the threat to my breakfast, I simply threw it into the trash can. I was convinced that I wouldn't meet Xavier again and that I had no use for his contact info, even if I did eventually go back to Glass of Prism.
The weekend was peaceful after that. Just as it should be. Spending my last weekend of unemployment while making sure my silhouette was properly imprinted in my bed felt like my greatest achievement during this year's long job hunt.
But that peace was fleeting.
"This ends in a few hours."
Right now, it's four in the morning on Monday. The one Monday I start my new job at my dream company, working in the exact team I've always wanted.
The fact that I took a gap year before finally deciding to apply for a job there wasn't only because I was scared or too lazy to start being a productive adult. It was mostly because I knew they weren't hiring anyone for the Advertisement Team—which, sadly, is the only department truly suited to my major and my personal interests as a professional.
The vacancies were few and far between every time I heard they were hiring, and I somehow knew I wasn't going to get in so easily. The last time I applied wasn't really the exception to that rule. But I have a mother and, even though she's quite relaxed because of her hippie vibes, she also possesses this weird instinct that's almost prophetic.
"I'm sure you'll get in!" she trilled, her voice carrying that airy, singsong quality she always used when she was being particularly 'zen'. "Just try it out and apply for the job this time, honey dear. If you fail, then you can always help Mum at the greenhouse!"
Her tone and suggestion were sweet enough on the surface. But I have a lethal pollen allergy, so—it wasn't really a nice choice. It was a deadly threat she'd wrapped up in a smile to tell me it was time to give it a real try. All I can do now is thank her, since I did actually get in exactly as she predicted. I was quite desperate to do well in the interviews after she mentioned the greenhouse, after all.
I at least won't stop breathing at twenty-three years old now. At least not because of a stray lily or a rogue dandelion.
Anyhow, there are only a few hours left until my first shift. Since I slept in the whole weekend, it's only now that I regret letting my sleep schedule become so messy.
As it is, I'd better stay awake until I have to go, I thought while staring up at the dark, shadowed ceiling. I'll survive my first day with a cup of strong dark coffee and beg God to help me out and not mess it all up as soon as I say hello to my coworkers.
I sat up on my bed, convinced that staying awake was my only way out. It'll be fine. I'm Layna Connor Burry. This will be a piece of cake.