Page 14 of Your Pace Or Mine

“Sorry, of course I remember,” Sam finally replies, distracted. “Listen, we’re in the middle of something, but I can call you back. It’s been so crazy with these double shifts that we need to do the house stuff when I’m available. Unless it’s important?”

Is it important that I slept with my friend and have unresolved feelings about it? Does she care if I’m going to be a dating influencer? Or is her living room more pressing?

“No, it’s fine. Love you.”

“Bye, Ash! Talk to you soon.”

I hang up at the sound of more hammering.

As I wait for Laurel on Sunday afternoon, I text with a few guys from the app. Brock seems like a good fit. He looks tall and athletic with reddish-blond hair. We chat casually about running routes and potentially going on a jog or a hike together. As an alternative, he suggests I try out his climbing gym. I’ve never been great at that sort of thing. I’m petite, so I can’t always reach the holds, but I try not to back down from a challenge. We make tentative plans for Wednesday.

At the very least, this should give me a few topics for posts—first dates, rock climbing, what activewear goes well with a fitness date. He’ll see my ass in a harness, and that is mildly alarming.

By the time Laurel arrives with a loaf of homemade banana bread and two lattes, I’ve taken all my leggings out to assess which might be the most flattering if my butt is fifty meters in the air. My bedroom looks like a Lululemon exploded.

Laurel raises her eyebrows when she catches a glimpse. “Are you decluttering?”

“Not exactly.” I take a sip of my latte, surveying the mess of scattered clothing. “Rock climbing date next week. I need to figure out which of these will accentuate my assets.”

She looks at me with a bemused expression. “Aren’t you afraid of heights?”

Afraid might be a little strong. I can hike up hills, but don’t enjoy not having my feet on the ground. “Even if it’s terrible, it’s a good story. And if it’s not terrible, we get to tell our kids that Dad suspended Mom from the ceiling in a harness on their first date and traumatize them for life.”

Laurel laughs so hard she almost spills her drink. “You might not want to start off the date by naming your kids.”

“You think? I was going to suggest Rocky.”

I fiddle with my lighting. I’ve set up a corner of my apartment with a ring light and some background decor that would work for photos and videos, including a vintage movie poster from a flea market. I need it to look aesthetically appealing but still like I’m a regular person.

We draw the curtains, which is a shame because it’s one of those beautiful January days where the sky is clear and the sun is bright, and you can almost forget it’s frigid outside. Laurel has helped me with videos before, so she’s practically a pro. I’m not usually into the influencer thing; I’d rather help companies improve their social media presence from the sidelines. But I’ve done my share of trial videos, so this isn’t too daunting.

Laurel helps with my makeup and some outfits. I’ve been brainstorming what to wear for my videos to disguise myself and finally settled on huge sunglasses and a hot pink wig from Halloween a few years ago. I’m channeling my inner Frenchie from Grease, a role I played in high school.

Time flies by as we take a bunch of photos for future posts and promos, then settle in for my main intro video. We do a couple of takes. I plan to look at everything tonight, then adjust and edit as needed.

“Did you talk to Sebastian about what we discussed?” Laurel asks when we’re finished and moving all the gear out of the way. “About making the app safer and filtering out the creeps?”

“Not yet.” I’ve thought about it a lot and written some notes, but I haven’t pulled it all together. “I’ve got a game plan. Now I need to do some more digging.”

“Like what?” She gives a dry laugh. “We’re already pros in the art of receiving unsolicited booty calls.”

I snort. “I want to go through my inbox and screenshot some of the worst offenders so he has a taste of what we deal with.”

Laurel starts cackling, her eyes even tearing up. “Oh my God. Please tell me you won’t spare the dick pics.”

“Oh, absolutely not. He needs to know.” I almost feel sorry for my friend for what’s coming to him, but I’m not passing up this chance. “Though I might need to bathe myself in bleach after I go plumbing the depths of my inbox.”

Laurel shudders. “If I don’t hear from you by tomorrow, I’ll assume you lost all will to live.”

“I’ll let you know if I come out unscathed,” I reply, then look at my watch. “Didn’t you say you had to leave by five?”

It’s only after Laurel has left that I realize she never told me anything about her bed shopping adventures. I could have asked, but I’m surprised she didn’t bring it up or ask for feedback on her choices. Despite coming across as cool and unfazed, Laurel doubts herself a lot; her parents have always treated her as flighty and unserious, and she sometimes needs a push to make a choice or step out of her comfort zone. Over the years, I’ve helped her make spreadsheets to figure out random decisions like whether to change her car insurance. I guess she doesn’t need me now that she has Cal.

I sit on the couch, wondering whether there’s more going on than wanting to replace the secondhand queen she’s had as long as I’ve known her. Even if it’s just the bed, this is the first somewhat big decision she’s made in a long time that I haven’t been part of, and it stings a little.

Miss Midtown Reel (with transcript)

Miss Midtown appears on camera with her pink wig and sunglasses, standing in front of several potted plants.