back in my body

"I don't think it's for me," Birdie replied, shrugging again. Not only because she didn't want complete strangers to perceive her online, but also there seemed to be a lot of effort needed to put out quality content. She was too focused on creating a safe and happy environment for her students, there was no time to film every new idea she put into action. "There's a teacher conference in the city this summer that I'm going to, I think I'll share some ideas there. Maybe another teacher will have a thicker skin than me and put them out there for the teachers of the world."

who was divya to judge? if anything, birdie should be commended for ignoring the siren call of instafame that most people drew themselves too. it was a welcome change from the usual characters she met in la. being around it all for so long certainly took a number on her, because — what the fuck? she was moments from rolling her eyes because somebody didn’t want to be online? because she didn’t want to be the target of mean trolls hidden behind faceless profiles? come on, divya. don’t be a fucking weirdo. 

her brows knit; first, in shame at herself, then again, as another thought dawned on her. “genuine question: would these teacher conferences have like, famous teachers? you know, like the ones you’d watch on youtube or tiktok?” they would, right? after all, divya would imagine these conferences brought educators from a number of locations, and at least one of them had to be semi-notorious amongst the gaggle of teaching professionals. she nibbles at the corner of her bottom lip, then gives birdie a warm, hopefully, apologetic smile, “if you meet any, you should definitely share your ideas with them. maybe share details, so if you come up with any more great ideas, you can send them their way to post.”

Collin shrugged his shoulders, chuckling. "I know there are games happening, I just don't care." He wasn't staying on top of the schedules for teams he didn't care about, even if he'd been born in New York. "Besides, how many Knicks fans are on a small island in California? Come back when the Dodgers are playing and you won't be able to find a seat." And, yes, Collin knew the Knicks and Dodgers played different sports. "LA sounds like a better option, save you from having to get on an airplane." Surprise, surprise, Collin didn't love getting on a plane. They were too small, his legs never fit, airports stressed him out, and being that close to strangers was a nightmare in itself. He was a homebody through and through.

sometimes, collin reminded her of her ex-husband. not in a bad way, obviously. but, the amount of times she found herself having to remind him of something, or recall some piece of gossip for him because he simply did not care enough to retain the information, constantly. she laughs over the rim of her highball glass, eyeing him with amusement, as she takes another sip; a ring of condensation begun to gather and wrinkle her paper coaster where she’d placed it. her eyes flick downward, then return to her bartending friend almost immediately. “wait — seriously? can you repeat that?”

“am i getting the hint that you don’t like flying, mr. persaud?” brows shot up, she leaned forward. divya wasn’t sure why this surprised her so much either; she really needed to venture beyond her bubble more often. it was part of the reason she moved here to begin with, but this? it made sense, didn’t it? flying was a pain in the ass unless one had the luxury of flying business or first class. her elbow props itself lightly against the edge of the bar, where her cheek has taken up residence on her palm, eyes gleaming as she smiles at collin, “i actually love getting on a plane. but i hate having to go through security.         honestly, the only reason i wouldn’t want to go is because i’d only be there for two days, and it’s such a long flight for such a short trip.”

the face the bartender gave her was all the validation she needed to be reaffirmed that she made a good choice. divya could usually pick-up a vibe, and this girl had punk-rock written all over her. not punk-rock per sé, but — close enough. the first licks of ‘cherry pie’ would get any good bar going, and on a quiet night like tonight, the crimson & clover needed it. her brow rises, and she laughs, “why don’t you queue up some tracks then? you know, keep the party going when nobody’s here!”         not that divya had any experience working behind a bar, or really, anywhere with drink service, but if she did find herself working at some bar, she’d probably have a playlist with her favorite songs playing. because there was no way in hell she was getting through an eight-hour shift without some sort of hype music.

hands rub together, victorious, and she flashes a diabolical smile in the bartender’s direction. “so — do i win? is my first round on you?”

It had been a long day and a longer week for Sky. It was officially summer vacation so the aquarium had been over run by wild children and their already exhausted parents or nannies. During the summer, they doubled the daily marine mammal shows so he'd been talking nonstop. It was going to be a long summer. Sky was ready to be home in his bed for the next two days. As much as he loved living on Mirabella... Sky really hated this fucking ferry sometimes.

"Mind if I sit here?" He asked, finding an empty seat next to someone looking out at the ocean. Sky sat down before he even finished asking. He was trying to be polite, but he was sitting regardless. He let out a yawn, covering his mouth with his hand. "God, it's been a long week." He sighed. "There's a beer and some buffalo wings with my name on it the second I get off this boat."

there’s a laugh underneath her scowl somewhere. she’s not really mad at sky taking up space at her side, nor does she care that he didn’t even wait for an answer. because she felt how he looked. exhausted         god, she was fucking exhausted. the commute wasn’t so bad. the traffic in la was bad. so, a thirty-something-minute ferry ride to and from the island was easily digestible. she’d survive. though, she couldn’t say the same for sky. she side-eyes him and has to shutter her lids to rest those eyes from the glare on the water, thanks to the setting sun.

“well — my bed is calling my name the moment we dock… though, i still have to make the twenty-minute drive back home so i can get into said bed,” she laments with a deep, audible sigh. “maybe i should leave my car at the parking lot and just get a cab. but then i’ll have to catch a cab out tomorrow morning to pick up my car, and what if i get a parking ticket for leaving it there overnight?” the thought leads her to yawn, and then sigh again. divya peeks over at sky, one eye open, “what do you suggest i do?”

𝐥𝐨𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧: babylon

spirits were high and chaotic at babylon during the entirety of june. it was their busiest month of the year for a good reason and that night was no exception with no one but two drag shows and an obvious and colorful theme cocktail night joey had grown to despise.

after the seventh cocktail of the night, joey walked towards the newest patron waiting for their attention, flashing their usual teasing grin at their direction. "hey, what can i get ya?" then they paused, looking around for a brief second before leaning in closer to the person in front of them, eyes still focused on the crowd. "tell you what. three rounds of two truths one lie and if you win whatever you order for the rest of the night is on me. just don't put me into debt and don't get kicked out for being a bad drunk. deal?"

oh, divya loves a good game. but she loves free drinks even more. her head turns toward the door, briefly, catching the last of a rather loud group of friends enter babylon, then returns to position where the bartender is waiting for her expectantly. leaning in, conspiratorially, she beams, answering them with an eager nod. "oh, you most definitely have yourself a deal,” she answers easily, because thankfully she gets to do some pretty unbelievable stuff, courtesy of her job. sometimes even she doesn’t think her life is real and the experiences she has are possible.

tapping a finger against her chin, almost performatively, she presses her lips together, her gaze having drifted as she considers. then, immediately, they switch back to the bartender and she smiles. “okay,” she establishes, tone light, reminiscent of her usual on-screen personality and devoid of her naturalness to avoid giving anything away. “a few years ago, i had tequila shots with zoë kravitz at an oscars after party… umm         i was raised in london. and — oh. for a limited time, i had a sandwich named after me at a deli in west hollywood.” her brow arches, perfectly filled in, and she tilts her head in amusement. “what do you think?”

𝐥𝐨𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧: folklore bookstore, close to closing.

brown eyes scanned every book spine attentively, each displayed proudly on each bookshelf spread throughout the shop. every other day, sebastian spent a couple hours making sure the display was perfect; every title organized alphabetically in each own section to make it easier for the costumers to find. the shop had been closed for a little over an hour by now to the general public and yet there he was, still working while waiting for his guest for the night and eyeing the one client left: a teenager perusing the forbidden corner with all the books sebastina only kept in store out of peer pressure.

the doorbell rang as expected as his eyes skimmed through the last title of the night: her body and other stories by carmen maria machado. a personal favorite, the author picked up the hardcover to look up, finding divya's features looking back at him. the older man tilted his head to 'the forbidden corner', conceptualized by divya herself with pleading eyes. "they kept asking for some dark mafia romance they heard about" he whispered, shivering at the thought. "i recommended wuthering heights and nearly got my head chewed out not knowing how hot jacob elordi looked on the adaptation. maybe i'm getting too old for this" a sigh. "wine? it's been a long day, there's some chilling on the back."

in divya’s line of work, she had to pretend to like a lot of the media she consumed. it was in the job description. but only while on the job. what she did and said offline didn’t matter; well, mostly. it really did depend on who her audience happened to be if she decided to share her opinion. fortunately for her, she had found something of a kindred spirit in the friendly, if not as judgy as she, bookstore owner. she decided to stop by joe’s pizza on the way in, and grab them a pizza fritta to share; so when she slips into folklore, a pizza box juggles precariously atop her palm, which easily could have slipped when he draws attention to a new adversary.

her gaze falls away from sebastian and quickly towards the forbidden corner where a young woman is perusing. she echoes his sigh, then nods, understanding the desperate need for some wine. especially after hearing that. she settles the box against the counter top then gives him a small nod, acknowledging his strife but also, “first of all         do not get the jacob elordi hype at all. secondly —  i don’t hate a dark mafia romance, but that is far and few between. the last dark romance book i read had me putting my book down and repeatedly saying: what the fuck did i just read?” divya gives sebastian a thoughtful look before winding her neck back, “why don’t you get the wine out, and i get the hot girls read shirt wearing idiot out of here?”

the ferry runs every morning, docking on the other beach, close enough though, for visitors to hear it’s whistle across the island, warning the residents, the tourists, everyone of its arrivals and departures. if he wasn’t already awake when it docked, he was sure it would be his morning alarm. it is safe to say, at this point in his life, emerson is a morning person, so coras bark isn't the end of the world for him, even if he could use the extra sleep. he knows however that his dogs pleads to be walked on the beach don't sit well with everyone, and in any other circumstance he would be apologetic, even offer to buy them ear plugs. but this was divya, who hated him, it seemed, on principle. which meant emerson really loved toying with her. it didn't start out like this, though. no originally, he had been willing to compromise, but divya was intense in a way he hadn't expected. she was ready to dislike him from the jump, and as much as he tried he found it amusing and slightly offensive. she hardly knew him, but had come to an idea of him her head that soured her attitude towards him. he could, and likely should, take it more seriously. but somehow, unfortunately, along the way, he realized he thought she looked kind of cute when she was sending the deadliest of glares his way. so maybe he leaned into it, how annoying she found him, maybe he put up with her contempt because she interested him ways he hadn't really expected. whatever the reason was, this is where they were at. "no? what amount of caffeiene is the appropriate amount to deal with me then, divya?"

emerson fucking rockwell had it out for her. she was convinced. because what person in their right mind would wake a sleeping dragon? they had been neighbours all of nine months, and she hadn’t a single nice thing to say about him. she’d seen the parade of bedfellows he liked to keep, and while she was not one to judge… she was definitely judging. if her head wasn’t pounding before, it surely would be the longer she had to endure this conversation with him. 

maybe — and there is a very tiny part of her that thinks so — she should give him some grace. after all, he was mirabella’s pride and joy. since moving here, she had come to learn that people around here loved a medical professional; it helped that he also happened to be handsome, charming… and         very big. well! according to the locals. the type of locals that liked to share their opinion when she mentioned she lived next door to him, and the type of locals that seem to stare inappropriately at supposedly sexy doctors. she wouldn’t know. she didn’t find him particularly sexy, at all. not even a little bit.

divya continues to stare straight ahead, and if she ignores him long enough, he’ll leave her alone. but unfortunately, she was only human, and if she didn’t retort back with some biting remark, she’d spend the rest of the day regretting it — and she did not want emerson fucking rockwell plaguing her mind in any other capacity today. so, she smiles, feigns niceties, and turns her head towards him. dark brown eyes rake over him, completely pretending she doesn’t notice he’s built like an adonis, and then settles when she meets his gaze.

“eight more shots of espresso,” she answers matter-of-factly, burying her right ear against her shoulder, as she clicks her tongue, “and maybe an edible to make me more appeasable toward you. because i would have to be high to want to speak with you for longer than thirty seconds at a time.”

"I've thought about it," Birdie mused, shrugging noncommittally. "But then I'll see a negative comment on a perfectly nice person's video and remember how sensitive I am to criticism..." Sensitive as in, she couldn't handle it. She'd heard her parents yell such vitriol at each other all her life, and even when the words weren't directed at her, Birdie took them to heart. And when people were behind a keyboard and anonymous, they could be vicious. Birdie didn't want that negativity in her life, even if it meant she couldn't post her fun ideas online.

"Like, there was this teacher talking about cleaning out her classroom before summer," Birdie continued. "And there were all these comments about what she looks like..." She shook her head, a genuine twinge of pain for that woman in her heart. "Even the idea of a negative comment hurts my feelings!" Birdie laughed, rolling her eyes at herself and her too gentle heart. "Are blogs still a thing? Maybe I could write a blog... and just not post anything about myself." Perhaps that was something she could work on during the summer.

divya has to fight the urge to roll her eyes — she could be a bit of a cynic, but she had earned the right. it wasn’t birdie’s fault, and she certainly wasn’t going to unload on the sweet, adorable first-grade teacher because she had been forced to desensitise herself to mean, ruthless comments from trolls on the internet. divya was in the public eye, and it was a decision she made. she knew what came with being a public figure, and while she didn’t like it, she had to accept the reality of this part of it.

with a short sigh, she places her coffee cup on the table separating the small space between them, then brings her hand together. clutched in her lap, divya gives a closed-mouth laugh, that sounds more like a ‘hmph’ than a ‘haha’ but the intention is there. lips pull into a smile, and she gestures towards her phone camera, “you know what’s great about technology these days? you can film content without ever having to be on camera.” she nods, encouragingly, pointing at the pipecleaner ribbons, “i’m not saying do something that makes you uncomfortable — but if you did want to share your teacher talents with the internet… there is a way to do it without having to put yourself all the way out there.”

"Schedules, supply orders, money, drama in the break room," Collin shrugged. "The typical things just apply it to a restaurant." He figured every industry at the same type of talk, it was just a matter of the subject. In his case, it was how many pounds of beef he needed to order to get him through the rest of the month. Or figuring out who was going to cover the bar if there were multiple requests off on the same day. Luckily, Collin had a good manager working under him who took care of a lot of things. But there were still owner responsibilities that fell on his shoulders.

"Couldn't tell ya," Collin lifted his hands, motioning around to the quiet room. There were a few patrons still lingering, but most of them had already left. "Maybe there's not a good game on." He wouldn't know. Despite owning and operating a bar and grill, Collin didn't much care for sports. He'd watch them if they were playing on the televisions hanging up around the room, but he didn't keep up with schedules. "Ah, yes, the jet setter life style..." He teased. He also wasn't much of a traveler. "What's happening over there that needs reporting on?" It shouldn't come as a surprise that Collin also didn't keep up with pop culture and the going ons of it. There could be some royal getting married at the end of July and it would be news to him.

there she goes; eyeing him again. unable to hide the genuine curiosity that seemed to settle upon at her at realising one, undeniable fact: he was the anti-divya. it was becoming glaringly obvious that this man would not know his elizabeth taylor from his taylor swift. it was almost endearing, in an oddly concerning kind of way. was he disconnected?         or did he focus the use of his brain on things that actually mattered to him? that was a nice thought, but it had to be somewhat disconcerting when a bombshell dropped on him, completely devoid of its gumption, because — maybe, by the time he learnt it, it was old news.

“what must it be like in your head, collin?” the words tumbling from her in a rush of wonderment. “i think i need to start mentioning random major world events from the last six months to truly gauge how not up-to-date you are. because right now, if you were paying attention, you would know the nba finals are happening, and it may just be a fairytale win for the new york knicks,” her wide eyes remain on him, scrutinising his expression for any indication he was messing with her. when he doesn’t, she leans over her drink to take another drink, though she never takes her gaze off him. “the spider-man movie premiere,” divya offers with a nod, “but since they’re also having one in la… they might just send me to that instead.”

It had been one of those days. From the moment Len had woken up - late, due to his charger not being plugged in right and his phone having gone flat overnight - things had been going wrong. There was nothing major, thankfully, only a stubbed toe, a minor cut on his hand, a breakfast stolen out of his hands by a gull, and now this. He had tripped on the sidewalk, his shirt had caught on the fence he walked next to, and it now had an enormous rip right through the side, all the way up to the armpit. Sure, most people might have called it a day on a shirt of that condition, but it was a shirt that Len loved, and it had actually ripped in a pretty convenient place. So there he sat, right on the ground, cross legged, shirt off, stitching it back up. Len didn't go anywhere without his trusty backpack, which was full of many things, a small sewing kit included.

bad days happened to everybody — but the worst days are the ones where crawling under a comforter and listening to soothing sounds is the only cure. divya has to wonder which one he seems to having. she isn’t exactly sure when she notices him, but she had been running, a playlist of megan thee stallion’s discography blasting through the bud when she sees him hunched over… a shirt? which… he was sewing back up?         oh, she was absolutely going to need more context. her legs slow, until she’s jogging on the spot right before him.

divya peers down, and yep. he’s sewing a rip in his shirt. she tries not to stare, but she can’t help herself. startling slightly when he catches her, she comes to a stop almost immediately. her brows lift in sympathy, and she forces a polite smile onto her face. “sorry, i shouldn’t have stared — i was just wasn’t sure i saw it right when i saw you… well — sewing… in the middle of the street,” dark brown orbs roam over him, down to the shirt then back up to meet his eyes, “i mean. are you okay? can i help?”