gloria they will i know they will you're my partner they have to
mickey honestly i'm surprised they didn't ask if we were dating
gloria same.... but they're not e!news
mickey oh true plus i'm gay as fuck and your brother is hot
gloria NO HE ISNT HES A DICKHEAD
mickey i'll suck his dickhead
gloria why am i friends with you that's my brother don't talk ab this with me
mickey fine fine but he's so sweet 🥺
gloria damn right but i'm pretty sure he'll grow into an old hermit so,,,
mickey it's fine we can be hermits together
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Gloria clutched her dance bag as she waited in line at the small independent coffee shop she went to every morning. She tapped her foot impatiently as she waited for the woman four people in front of her to finish ordering; being late was one of the things Gloria hated the most.
She ran a hand through her messy blond hair, silently wishing she didn't have to dig to the bottom of her bag to find bobby pins when she got to the studio, and glanced around the coffee shop. A moment later, her phone rang, and she took it out of her pocket to see the name MICKEY displayed on the screen. Swiping to answer, Gloria put the phone to her ear.
"Hello?" she asked.
"Hey, what time do you get off today?" Mickey asked. "There's this new movie that just came out that I want to see."
"Around six-thirty," Gloria answered. "But I have a show at seven and again at nine. It's the beginning of the season, Mick, you know we can't go see movies whenever we want—"
"But this one has Matt Damon!"
"So?" Gloria demanded, absently checking her watch. "Matt Damon isn't worth missing the second showing of the year." She paused, then heard a sigh on the other end. "What's the movie called? Maybe we can see it on Sunday."
"First of all," Mickey retorted sternly, "Matt Damon is worth everything. And second, it's called TheMartian."
Rolling her eyes, Gloria shook her head despite knowing Mickey couldn't see her. "The Martian? What's it about, aliens? Why do you want to see Matt Damon if he'll be green the whole time?"
Behind her, Gloria heard a sudden cough, almost like a disguised laugh; she almost turned around, but then Mickey spoke again, and the line moved up.
"No!" Mickey protested. "It's based on a book about astronauts who go to—"
"Let me guess," Gloria said dryly. "Mars?"
Mickey sighed noisily. "Whatever. We can see it on Sunday." He paused, and Gloria imagined him doing his dorky thinking face—eyebrows scrunched, lips twisted, eyes narrowed. "Wait, remind me what time we were supposed to be here? Because I'm still at home."
"Your fault," Gloria teased, "not mine." She checked her watch again. "You're good, we have another half hour or so before we're actually late. Just hurry, okay?"
"Fine," Mickey relented. "Bye."
Gloria hung up and stuffed her phone in her pocket. She ran a hand through her hair again—a nervous habit—then pulled out her phone again a moment later. She opened Google and quickly typed in the martian.
Well, Gloria thought, smirking, Matt Damon isn't bad-looking. She clicked on the button that read cast, then raised her eyebrows. Neither are they.
Clicking her tongue in frustration, she turned off her phone and returned it to her pocket. Gloria didn't have time to see a movie. Practice was all day—and she had two back-to-back shows after that.
But when was the last time you had time off? A nagging voice in her head whispered.
"What can I get for you?"
Looking up, Gloria blinked at the cashier. That was fast. "Oh—um, one medium black coffee, please."
"And will... um, will that be all?" the cashier asked, but she seemed preoccupied, almost jittery and distracted. Gloria frowned and nodded. "That'll be $3.94."
Handing the cashier her credit card, Gloria watched as the woman glanced at something over Gloria's shoulder and blushed. She almost rolled her eyes—of course someone attractive was standing behind her. Why else would the cashier be acting so strange?
Taking back her card, Gloria quickly thanked the cashier before turning around, simultaneously returning the card to her wallet. She glanced at her watch and bit her lip, clutching the strap of her dance bag, wondering absently if Mickey would still need help with his—
"Ow!"
Gloria rubbed her forehead. "Crap, I'm so sorry—" she began, looking up at the person she'd bumped into. She stopped cold, staring up at the man's crystalline blue eyes.
He looked strangely familiar, like she'd seen him before, but she couldn't remember where.
"By the way," the man said suddenly, a smirk flashing across his face, "The Martian's not a bad movie." He shrugged. "You should give it a try, at least."
Bewildered, Gloria blinked. "You were eavesdropping," she realized, unsure whether or not she should be annoyed.
The man shrugged sheepishly. "Guilty," he admitted. "But—you're right in front of me, so it kind of wasn't hard."
"Sir?" asked the cashier from behind Gloria. "Are you ready to order?"
"Oh, yeah, sorry," the man said hurriedly, fishing out his wallet from his pocket. He pulled out a five dollar bill. "I'll have a white mocha, please."
"Alright, and what's your name?" the cashier asked, but she was already uncapping the marker in her hand, as though she knew the answer.
The man didn't seem to notice. His mouth shifted into a lopsided smile, and as the late morning sun shifted through the coffee shop window and cast the man's blue eyes into a bright, steely grey, Gloria felt her cheeks flush.
"Sebastian," the man said, still looking at Gloria. "My name's Sebastian."
