something else,, quackity

vi

alex
heyy so were you serious about
helping out w the stream
if it ever happens

nat
i mean yeah! im down tbh
as long as you actually know how
to not give me food poisoning
that's a bad first date idea ngl

alex
so it's a date now?

nat
if you want it to be 😍😍

alex
OH OK THAT WOULD BE
VERY NICE AND GOOD
EVEN THOUGH ALL OF IT WILL BE
STREAMED LIVE ON TWITCH 😃

nat
oh yeah forgot about that 👹👹
why don't we do something before
that to practice? so there's no chance of a complete failure going live
to your followers
it'll be like a practice date✨✨

alex
hmm
i like that

nat
yeah?
when are u free?

alex
how about like
right now

nat
RIGHT NOW??
AS IN RIGHT THIS SECOND NOW????
AS IN PICK ME UP IN TEN OUTSIDE
MY HOUSE RIGHT NOW???
ALEX WHY ARENT YOU RESPONDING
ALEX
delivered

***

It's almost fifteen minutes later when my phone finally rings, cutting through the still silence of the living room.

But to my surprise, it's not Alex. It's Gem.

"Nat?" she says warily when I pick up.

"Gem? What's up?" I say, still stuck in my brain as it tries to decide whether to actually get ready in case Alex somehow finds my address or to just stay slouched in this oddly comfortable position in the corner of the couch.

"There's someone here to see you."

"Here?" I spring up. "Where's here?"

"Our fucking workplace."

"What?"

It's like someone has cranked me up to full power. I speed into my room, pulling the first T-shirt I can find — unfortunately one of Edie's oversized Disney prints — over my hot pink sweatpants and grabbing my jacket. Hopping towards the door, I pull up my fluffy socks with one hand and grip the phone with the other.

"Uh, is it- just to check, it's him?"

"What? The Crack City man? Yeah, him."

"His name is Alex," I say through gritted teeth, dragging a hairbrush through my mud-brown tangles. No success. Instead I slam on a bright orange beanie and grab my keys.

"Okay, okay." Gem's lazy tone suggests she is definitely picking up on my flustered rush. "Hey, stalker man. She'll be here in a few. Right, Natty Bats?"

"Fuck off." I lock the apartment door, peer round to all the windows to make sure they're shut, and make a run for it.

In record time I reach Chipotle. Clearly my panic works against my unfit body. I slow down my pace, gulping in air, and walk towards the squat building — the lights inside are too bright for this time of the night.