I catch myself thinking it without meaning to:
I see what Ethan sees in her.
She pulls you in. She has energy like the ocean—constant, powerful, impossible to ignore. You don’t even realize you’re drifting until you’re already caught in her current.
And being around her?
It makes me feel good.
More confident.
More seen.
For the first time all day, I relax.
And I don’t notice how far I’ve drifted until much later.
Sage checks her watch like it’s just occurred to her that time exists.
“Oh—shoot,” she says, already standing. “I’ve gotta run. Ethan did a late gym workout and he picked up that new blockbuster everyone’s talking about. We’re doing a couch-and-popcorn night.”
Of course they are.
She leans in and gives me two quick air kisses, European and effortless, perfume lingering like something expensive and sunny.
“This was fun, Beth,” she says. “We’ll do it again. See you on the weekend.”
And then she’s gone—heels clicking away, shopping bags swinging, energy still humming in the air after her like static. I find the nearest T station and put my metal tokens into the slot. The turnstiles spin as I move through, board a tired old subway car filled with Red Sox fans headed to Fenway.
I get off at my stop ten minutes later. Just enjoying the summer night. My new clothes and a budding friendship I didn’t see coming.
I walk home slower, arms aching a little from the weight of the bags. The street feels quieter than it did an hour ago, like someone turned the volume down.
When I push through the front door, one of my roommates, Jen looks up from the couch, glasses perched on the end of her nose, some old rerun murmuring in the background.
She blinks at the bags.
“Beth,” she says carefully, “did you go shopping? Without me?”
“Yeah,” I answer, kicking my shoes off. “With Sage.”
Her eyebrows lift. Just a little.
“Sage… Ethan’s girlfriend?” she asks. “Your coworker Ethan? The girl who you said was—” she searches for the word, “—very good-looking but possibly unhinged?”
I wince despite myself and set the bags down by the stairs.
“Yeah,” I say. “That one.”
“Well,” she says, folding her hands in her lap, “how was it?”
I hesitate. Just a beat.
“She’s not as crazy as I thought,” I say finally, rubbing the back of my neck. “She’s just… different, I guess.”
“Different how?”
I shrug. “She’s from New York. They’re just more… brazen. Confident. Forward. I don’t know.”
