Boy meets girl, girl falls in love, blah-blah-blah.
Let me be clear with you from the beginning. This is not that kind of story.
My name is Cait, and I live in the great city of New York. Okay, so maybe I've only lived here for a week and a half...
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I woke up the next morning to the sound of Val's alarm going off. Her phone played Katy Perry's "Roar" on repeat every morning, and she claimed it helped get her in the mood to dominate every single day. Normally she turned it off relatively quickly, meaning I could roll over and go back to sleep if I didn't have work that morning, but today the song seemed to drag on and on.
"Val?" I croaked, sitting upright and rubbing the sleep out of my eyes. "You gonna get that?"
She moaned, rolling over on her lofted bed that was across the room from mine, and made a move to grab her phone. Instead of pushing it toward her, however, she knocked it off her bed and sent it tumbling down onto the sofa below where it continued to blare Katy Perry at us.
"Flaaaaaargh," Val mumbled into her pillow, rolling over and pulling her black comforter over her head.
I grimaced, massaging the headache pounding at my temple from lack of sleep, and cast off my blankets so I could climb down from the bed. Carefully avoiding the shoes scattered on the floor from last night, I grabbed her phone and hit snooze on the annoying alarm. I was tempted to turn it off entirely, but I knew Val had to work in a few hours and - as much as she'd appreciate the extra sleep now - she wouldn't appreciate it later when Peter was chewing her out for missing work.
Her iPhone screen went black once the alarm was cleared, but - as I moved to drop the phone back on the sofa - the screen lit up with an Instagram notification. I would've ignored it, but the second after the first one popped up, another one followed. Then another. And another.
I pushed the home button, and I was stunned to see hundreds of Instagram notifications staring up at me on Val's phone. There were both likes and comments, several of which said something to the effect of "lucky bitches!" along with a shit ton of heart eye emojis.
A split second later, I noticed my Instagram username included in most of the comments, and I nearly dropped the phone in shock.
"Val," I muttered, climbing halfway up my lofted bed to snag my phone from underneath the pillow. "What did you do?!"
I unlocked it quickly, ignoring the countless Instagram notifications filling the lock screen, and tapped to open the app.
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