ANYTHING BUT ENEMIES

05. phone problems

IT'S SICKENING HOW hard living in the twenty-first century without a cell phone is.

The woman at the gate entrance had been able to last minute pull up my ticket, shooting me looks from her side of the counter the entire time, and letting rip the occasional sigh that made me want to walk around and ask her if she had a problem and possibly wanted to settle it by throwing hands.

Then we'd landed and I'd had to deal with booking an Uber via some random woman's laptop (that I really hope I remembered to sign out of because my bank account only has so much money, and I'm not a fan of identity theft).

And now I'm tucked into the computer room of the hotel I'm supposedly staying at, eyes racing down my conversation with Ruby Tanaka to see if she's gotten off the plane yet.

Over the past month, Ruby and I have texted almost everyday, even video chatting a couple of times just to check in with each other. She's somehow one of the coolest people I've ever met, complete with an amazing sense of humor and killer music and show taste.

A ping from the monitor shows me her response.

yeah, just got in an hour ago. i went out for a while to pick up snacks tho. u want anything?

I sigh, stomach rumbling as if on cue before typing out my response.

snacks sound great! i'll get whatever u get
oh and btw my phone's broken, so if u don't get a response that's y

broken?

yeah, i'll tell u everything when u get back lol

oh shit ok lmao i'll hurry

I close out my tab after logging out, shifting my bags and keycard in my hands before stumbling out of the computer room and into the downstairs elevator.

The plane ride had been something else—my stuffing napkins down my shirt to minimize the amount of coffee on my skin, using another wad to try to blot out as much of it as I could.

Then an old man next to me had tried to make small talk that I really wasn't in the mood for, so I'd slipped in some earbuds as soon as I got the chance, blasting the old music I'd illegally downloaded back when I'd first gotten my phone.

It'd left me with a lot of time to think. To internally cry over what massive idiot I am, to regret ever deciding to leave my house so close to the time I needed to be at the airport, to mourn my second interaction with the biggest prick I've ever met in my life.

Which speaking of the biggest prick, why the hell had he shown up where I wanted him least?

It's too much of a coincidence, if you ask me—like the world is already conspiring to make this the worst trip ever. Where could he even be going like that?

I bet he's flying first class.

Grumbling to myself, I step out the metal confines of the elevator, dragging my feet down the carpet until I reach the room I'm supposed to be in.

A cherry red suitcase greets me upon arrival, narrow passageway, which holds the bathroom, leading me into an average-sized room with two beds.

It's cute enough, brown and green cushions with diamond patterns, airy drapery over the windows to let a bit of sunlight filter through. I take note of the mini fridge in interest before dropping my stuff to go check out the bathroom.

The design is simple, but effective. White, waffled shower curtain over a tub, and a ceramic bowl encased in chestnut wood as the sink.

Going back outside, I tear into my suitcase, desperately rooting through to find a change of clothes and coming up with a pair of ripped jeans and another graphic tee—a comfy outfit for a chaotic day.