The clock struck 8:00 PM, exactly twenty-four hours before the date. Outside, the rain was relentless, streaking the windows of the apartment Jane shared with Stacey. Inside, Jane sat huddled on the sofa in her oversized, fuzzy gray pajamas, clutching a mug of cocoa. The TV was on, but her eyes were fixed on the ceiling, her mind a chaotic swirl.
I can't believe this, she thought, the warmth of the mug seeping into her palms. It's been years since I went on a date. And it's always been guys. Damn.
Her gaze drifted to the wall, landing on a poster of Nico Seliko, the winner of the last race a decade ago.
"Oh, Nico," she whispered, a trace of bitterness in her voice. "You didn't deserve it... but I still admire you. I hope we meet on the track." She exhaled a heavy sigh and took a long sip of her cocoa.
In the next room, Stacey was sprawled across her bed, headphones clamped over her damp, black hair. Fresh from the shower and dressed in a gothic black t-shirt, she let the aggressive pulse of punk rock drown out the world. Beneath the music, a single thought repeated: Mila, I hope I find the courage to ask you out. She closed her eyes, then snapped them open again. I need coffee. Ugh, but I don't have the energy to move.
Back in the living room, Jane pulled out her phone. Maybe I should look her up on Instagram? See who I'm dealing with first. Thank god I remember her last name.
She typed into the search bar: Clarice Kishiso.
A single profile appeared. Jane tapped it, and her jaw nearly hit the floor. "Three hundred and fifty thousand followers? What?! Why?!"
The feed was a relentless mosaic of motorcycles, high-fashion poses, air-kisses, and selfies. There were over a thousand photos, but to Jane, they all looked the same. "Wow, she's so basic. Jesus. All these followers for this?"
She kept scrolling, her thumb moving faster until she stopped. A photo from five years ago. Clarice was at a protest, holding a sign that read: LET LESBIANS LIVE! She was dressed in an explosion of colors, her hair a literal rainbow.
"I wonder if she'll show up like that tomorrow," Jane muttered. "Colorful dress and a weird look? At least her hair isn't like that anymore. Small favors."
Across town, in a sprawling Miami villa, Clarice sat at her private bar. She swirled a clear drink in a crystal glass, her eyes locked on a screen.
Jane Garmstock. 150 followers. One single photo of her and Stacey, locked in a tight, smiling hug.
"Okay, so we have some beautiful sisterly love here," Clarice murmured to the empty room. "But why are you so quiet on social media?"
With a smirk, Clarice tapped the 'Follow' button. "Let's see how you react to that, babe."
Jane's phone vibrated instantly. Her eyes widened as the notification popped up. She began to stutter to herself, her face flushing a deep crimson. "What—what? Huh?! How did she?! How did she find me?!"
In her villa, Clarice let out a low laugh. "Haha, I bet she's in total shock right now. Blushing like a tomato."
Jane's blush deepened. "Hmph. She thinks I'll fall at her feet just because of a follow? She's living in a Disney movie." She shoved the phone aside.
Clarice watched the profile, waiting for a follow back or a notification. Silence. "Oh... so that's your game? Okay. Time for Phase B."
She opened the direct messages and typed out a greeting, labeling Jane as "sexy" and adding a digital wink for good measure.
Jane's phone buzzed again. She peeked at it, her heart skipping a beat. She sent me a message? She opened the chat and saw the typing bubble dancing.
I know you're seeing this, Clarice wrote. Answer me, don't ghost me like that... She ended the text with a small, frowning face to show her disappointment.
Jane hesitated. Should I answer? Should I not? Maybe she's testing my mystery. She debated for a second longer before whispering, "Fuck it."
She typed back: Hi, how are you?
Clarice grinned, taking a victory sip. "Ooh, she's interested! I thought she'd just give me a basic 'hey'." She typed rapidly: How am I? You wouldn't believe how fast my heart is beating right now...
Jane scratched her head, typing with one hand. Haha, what happened? I just answered a message. Grow up.
Clarice poured herself a shot of cognac, downed it in one go, and replied: You're right. I'm thirty-two and I feel sixteen with butterflies in my stomach. She attached a little blushing face icon to emphasize the point.
Jane paused. Wow, she's six years older than me. She typed: I'm happy to hear that. I have a question for you... well, a few. Do you mind?
Ask whatever you want, mami. I don't bite (yet), Clarice replied, followed by another playful wink.
Jane rolled her eyes. She thinks I'm a kid who falls for cheap flirting. It's cute, but so cheesy. She typed out a paragraph: Fine, here goes. First, who's paying for the date? Or are we splitting? It's important to know so we aren't awkward when the bill comes. Also, this Laketown Bar place—is it loud or quiet? And last question because I'm rambling: are you picking me up, or do you want me to pick you up on my scooter?
She hesitated before hitting send. Wow, that was a lot. Oh well.
"Boo!" Stacey whispered directly into her ear.
Jane jumped, her phone clattering to the floor. "Stacey! What the fuck?! What is wrong with you? I could have a heart attack from this shit!"
Stacey maintained her deadpan expression. "Look at you. You're red as a tomato. This date is really breaking you, isn't it? Are you sure this girl is in your league?"
"My league? What is this, football? She might be prettier than me, but I'm definitely in her league."
Stacey yawned. "Okay, sister, whatever. I'm making coffee. Want some?"
Jane raised an eyebrow. "Coffee? It's night! No way you're drinking coffee now."
"Sorry, sis. I have aerodynamics homework. I have to do it now or Teacher Mila will kill me. If I don't drink this, I'll crash."
"Ugh, fine. I can't say no to you doing homework. Just don't bother me right now!"
Stacey walked toward the kitchen. "Sis, we're making zero money and you're going on dates. You sure this is the right move?"
"Of course it is! I'm doing this for the chance to get into the race, nothing more, nothing less. We'll drink a bit and I'm out. No big deal."
"And what about the bike you're lending her for free?"
"It's just a rental, Stacey, relax. It'll pay off for us. Trust your sister."
"Oh, I trust you. Just be careful. Tell this girl our situation is trash. Maybe she'll want to pay."
Jane picked up her phone. "Okay, okay..."
A long message from Clarice was waiting. She actually answered all of that? Wow.
She tapped it: Babe, are you really asking that? I'm paying for this date without a second thought. Do not bring your wallet under any circumstances, clear? About the place: tomorrow it'll be very quiet, trust me. Just come with a positive, sexy vibe. Rambling? Mami, I want you to ramble to me forever. And I'm picking you up. I'll come with my car. See you tomorrow! Goodnight. She sealed the message with a digital blowing-kiss.
Jane stared at the screen, her face burning. "Oh my god... is she for real? That's so gentlemanly of her..."
Stacey appeared, holding out a mug. "Here, sis. Nescafé, three sugars, weak just the way you like it."
Jane exhaled. "Thank you." She took a sip.
"Goodnight, sis. Good luck on the date."
"And good luck with your homework, haha."
Jane sent Clarice a single red heart. It sounds too good to be true. I have to grill her tomorrow.
In the villa, Clarice had fallen asleep at the bar table, snoring lightly with her phone still in her hand. In the apartment, Stacey sat at her desk, taking a gulp of coffee. "Alright. Homework time."
The next morning, 8:00 AM.
Stacey walked into class, dark circles under her eyes. Fuck... that homework. The temptation to watch Game of Thrones killed me. She slumped into her chair. A minute later, Mila entered. Her blonde hair was loose and radiant, her red lipstick bold. She wore a subtle neckline, elegant earrings, and heels, dressed in a stylish taupe teacher's outfit. Her amber eyes glowed. "Good morning, Senior Class 9. How is everyone?"
The class answered in a robotic chorus, "Great!" Only Stacey remained silent, her chin resting in her hand, nearly drifting off.
"Alright, no preamble. Who did last night's homework?"
Most claimed they had. A few stayed silent, Stacey among them, hoping to go unnoticed. Mila began to walk toward her. Seeing Stacey nodding off, she snapped, "Stacey!"
Stacey jumped. "Huh? Where am I? Oh, shit..."
"Didn't sleep last night, sweetie? No sleeping in class, okay? Go wash your face."
Stacey looked at her with her usual indifference. "Uh... okay."
She walked to the bathroom and splashed cold water on her face. Staring into the mirror, she sighed. "I look terrible. Shit. What am I going to do about the homework?"
An hour passed. Stacey was sitting in the hallway; she hadn't gone back to class. She lay down on the stairs and fell fast asleep. When the bell rang for break, students began filing out, whispering and looking at her strangely. Then Mila appeared.
"Students, leave her be. I'll handle this." Mila sharpened her tone. "Miss Stacey!!!!"
Stacey bolted upright. "Huh?! Where am I?!"
"You are on school grounds. You missed my lesson and you fell asleep? It's time we talked. Into my office, right now."
Stacey smirked. Exactly as planned.
Fifty minutes earlier, in front of the bathroom mirror: Okay, I won't go back to class. I'll fall asleep in the hallway. At the end of the lesson, she'll come out, wake me up, tell me to come to her office, scold me a bit, and offer to help me make up the work at the end of the day. Then, we can be alone.
Back to the present.
Stacey walked with a hidden smile while Mila looked stern. "I am very angry, Stacey. This is unlike you, especially this close to the end of the year."
Stacey stayed quiet as they entered the office. Mila shut the door. "Sit, please."
They sat across from each other. "So, Stacey. No games. Just tell me, what was that? Why did you fall asleep in the hall and why didn't you do the homework?"
Stacey met her gaze. "Because I binged Game of Thrones all night. But that's not the whole story."
"Is that the whole story? You really just said that? Game of Thrones? I expected you to at least try to lie."
"Lie? I never lie. Lying is for losers."
Mila smiled slightly. "Even if you tell the truth, it's important to know when and how to say it. Because sometimes, the truth hurts, dear."
Stacey's smirk returned. "Okay. And why are you telling me this?"
"Because sometimes you need to know when to lie... but I know you don't do that." Mila's smile crooked to the side. "Anyway, do you want me to punish you?"
"Punish? Heaven forbid, dear. I want you to graduate with honors in Aerodynamics. It's important. At the end of the day, we'll sit together for a private session and do it together, alright?"
Stacey answered with a flat, "Great." But in her mind, she was beaming with a dark little smile. Just like I planned.
Hours later. 7:50 PM.
Jane was ready. She wore a sleek gray dress, light makeup, and her gray hair flowed perfectly. I can't believe I'm dressed like this. But, I have to impress her.
She headed down the stairs, her heels clicking loudly on the pavement. Fuck, these are so uncomfortable.
At exactly 7:55 PM, a pink Corvette pulled up. Jane froze. Is that her?
The car stopped and the window rolled down. Clarice sat there in her brown cowboy hat, her pink curls glowing. She wore a pink dress with a plunging neckline, a brown leather jacket, and matching gloves. "Mommy and daddy... you look amazing. Get in."
Jane was stunned. "I don't understand... how can you ask to borrow a bike when you have a car like this?"
"Questions for later, babe. We have places to be."
Jane raised an eyebrow. "Are you sure you wouldn't prefer my scooter? I'm not really into this showing off stuff."
"Haha, with all that style you want to be on a scooter? Come on, get in before I come out there and carry you."
Jane blushed as the door opened automatically. She sat down, and Clarice immediately leaned over, planting a kiss on her cheek.
Jane's mind went blank. Oh my god.
To be continued...