“Itisover,” Alix said, steeling her face into neutrality.
Oscar raised his brow. “Over, except for when it’s not?”
“Over, except for when I’m… bored,” Alix shot back, grinning even as her cheeks warmed. She hated how transparent she was with them. They saw through every bluff, every cocky shrug. She could joke about it, but part of her knew it wasn’t just boredom that had her answering Kirstin’s late-night texts or keeping people at arm’s length. It was habit. It was safety. It was easier to laugh than to admit how much of her still lived in that quiet space between wanting to be chosen and knowing she probably wouldn’t be.
“Girl,” Lola groaned, throwing herself dramatically against the booth. “You need a hobby that isn’t bad tattoos or worse exes.”
“That’s a low blow,” Alix said, raising her middle finger tattooed with a scissor like it was proof of dignity instead of the exact opposite.
Oscar shoved her phone back across the table. “Delete Kirstin. Or I will. Hand it over.”
Alix laughed, flipping her phone face down. “Relax, Dad. I’m not texting back.”
Before either of them could argue, her phone buzzed again.
Both Oscar and Lola lunged for it. Lola got there first, nearly sloshing her whiskey all over the table as she grabbed it. “If that’s Kirstin, I’m blocking her myself?—”
She froze, then tilted her head. “Huh. You have a new Breakup Buddy.”
Alix snatched the phone back, frowning at the screen. A fresh message lit up from someone with the screen name GoGatorsESQ.
GoGatorsESQ
Heartbreak connoisseur? Does that mean you’re an expert at curing or causing?
Oscar leaned across the table, smirking. “Sounds like trouble.”
Lola rolled her eyes. “Good thing Alix collects trouble like other people collect houseplants. Except hers don’t die, they just text her at two in the morning.”
Alix ignored them, tipping back the last of her beer while her thumbs flew. She didn’t even have to think about the reply — it spilled out easily, the way her best lines always did with a little liquid confidence. She called herself Charon, the ferryman who transported souls into the underworld, but made a sly reference about steering poor soulsoutof hell. It was a stretch, but it was also an easy way to sus out if the woman she was talking to was smart enough to volley a little intelligent banter.
She grinned to herself as she hit send, almost picturing the look on GoGatorsESQ’s face.
Oscar groaned. “Oh God. You’re flirting with someone who likes gators. Do you think they even have all their teeth?”
“I’m not flirting,” Alix said, sliding her phone away. “I’m… mythologizing.”
“Same thing,” Lola muttered. “At least the ESQ implies them being a lawyer.”
“What? How?” Oscar asked.
“Esquire,” Lola said by way of explanation.
“Isn’t that, like, a magazine?” Oscar looked between Alix and Lola, clearly not understanding.
“It’s a good thing you’re so handsome,” Lola cooed, reaching to ruffle Oscar’s hair.
By last call, she was loose-limbed and grinning, Docs scuffing against the pavement as she tugged her longboard from where it had been leaning just inside the front door of the bar. The ride home was only a few blocks, the Silver Lake streets mostly quiet at this hour, the air finally cool after a fall day that had baked the city.
She pushed off, wheels humming, phone buzzing again in her pocket. The night wrapped around her — neon bleeding into shadow, wind stinging her cheeks, the kind of small freedom that made everything else fall away.
By the time she coasted up to the cracked walkway of her little bungalow, her buzz had thinned to a warm hum. The place looked half-asleep under the porch light — peeling paint, sagging gutters, the swing creaking in the breeze. Inside, her roommate, Phyllis, was probably already tucked in with her crossword puzzles and a cup of chamomile.
Alix dropped her board against the steps and sank onto the swing, the chain groaning as it took her weight. She dug her phone out, thumb hovering over the BB chat.
Scissorsaurus
What about you, Gator? Has one stupid Julie really ruined your belief in love?
