42 | Traffic Stop

DOMINGO

11:16 PM

Dahlia Gray

This is the third time I'm late.

The first two times were when we were on break and Harlow was with his foster family, lodged in a cabin deep in the mountains. Of course, I couldn't call him to drive me to work—despite my fingers itching to dial the number from memory—and by that time, it was too late.

The first time, the bus broke down in the middle of the road—I was ten minutes late.

The second time, my advisor called me in early without a day's notice—I was twenty-five minutes late.

This time, I messed up the wrong bus schedule and the bus made an unusual route—and I'm an hour and sixteen minutes late.

I'm running into the building, my eyes frantically searching around the place. I knew I needed to check in with my advisor and clock in my time, but I'm afraid I'm going to be in big trouble. Not only that, according to the agreement, too many incidents could cause me to lose my internship.

"Kid," I turn, seeing Aysa quickly approaching me, her white combat boots stomping against the floor. She's dressed in blue jeans, a half-zipped black dust jacket with a reflection line etched across her pouch and a pop culture tee underneath. She finishes with a black hijab. "You're late."

I wince. "I know," I drawl, my voice desperate. "The bus went on this unusual route and I could barely get any service. I tried to text you but I don't know if it went through."

"It did." She holds up her phone, showing me the messages. "I tried to cover for you, but your advisor was getting antsy."

I grimace in response, squeezing my eyes shut in hopes that this is just a bad dream and I'm going to wake up soon. Late. Three times in a month—what are they going to do to me?

"Dahlia Gray," I hear my advisor, Tristan, call from a distance. I freeze. I can't move. His footsteps thumping against the floor, announcing his near arrival to my ultimate doom. He stops before me, and I could feel the heat of his body radiating in front of me. "Dahlia."

I inhale a sharp breath, and open my eyes. I look up to meet his green ones. "Okay. I now this seems bad, and I know I'm late but the bus made an additional route and I think they switched drivers and the driver didn't know what they were doing and plus, the traffic—"

He silences me with a flick of his hand, halting my rambling. My heart stops for a good second, my breath in my throat.

"That's not an excuse," he said, adjusting the collar to his white dressed shirt. For a thirty-something year old man, he's always looking fresh—as if he's aiming to be promoted to the CEO position upon his arrival. Unfortunately, that isn't possible in the time-span presented. "You know what the agreements are."

My lips pressed together and I inhale a breath, regulating my breathing. I look to the floor, my hands tucked under the other. "I know."

"You're one of the few promising interns of this company, and I'm proud that you got this internship," he starts, almost like he's reciting the positives before the negatives. My firing. "You're hardworking and always the quickest on your feet—but you need better transportation. You need to be here on time. Just because this is an internship does not mean it shouldn't be treated like a job."

I swallow a gulp, preparing myself for the worst. "Yes, sir."

He sighs, and I hear him running his hand through his slicked back blonde hair. "Look, I tried my best to ask for more time in the research department but I don't work for that division. They needed you to do their runs and help them an hour ago, but you weren't. They're very upset."

Here it comes. My voice low and vulnerable, "I'm sorry, sir."

"Not to me, to them," he corrects. "Dahlia, please look me in the eyes when you talk to me."

I suck in a choked breath, my chest struggling to take in oxygen. My head tilts upwards, meeting his green eyes. "The next time this happens, we're going to have to have a meeting with the board. They will determine if you can continue the internship or not. This includes the benefits alongside it. Please, be wary of that."

I pause. It took a moment to register what he truly meant.

"I'm..." I point to myself, "I'm not fired?"

"Not yet, at least," he pulls out a pager, looking at the screen. "Go. Clock in at your station and then head to the research department, they need you immediately."

The biggest sigh of relief exits from me, and my chest feels free. My shoulders slouch from their stiff position and my hands pull from their pockets, trying to locate my inhaler for emergencies. I struggle to produce the words—the gratitude that I felt—and I didn't need to.

"Come on, kid," Aysa grabs my arm, pulling me away from my advisor and down the path of the corridor. I barely had the consciousness to shuffle my feet. "Thank you, Tristan. We'll meet again." She calls over her shoulder.

I turn to Aysa, a soft smile on my face, just as she turns back to me. "I'm not fired."

"Yet," she adds, the imperative reminder echoes through my ears. Her smile, protective and delicate, "now, go. Before they reconsider."

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DOMINGO

4:43 PM

Dahlia Gray

"How bad is it?" Aysa asks, just as I drop into the seat in front of her. She rips open a bag of trail mix, pulling peanuts from the cluster.

"I'm—" I hold out a hand, silently asking for some of her trail mix. She rolls her eyes, but shakes the bag for a couple to drop into my palm. I smile gratefully. "I'm exhausted, for starters."

"What did you do?"

"Well," I chew on an M&M, the chocolate exploring my taste buds. "I had to do the most running. While the other interns were helping the scientists at their desks and stations, I had to do the coffee run, collect data from the prototype and testing stations. I think I basically ran a marathon."

Aysa chuckles, and leans back against her seat. She picks up her textbook, "at least you aren't fired."

I nod, toasting to that statement. "At least, I'm not fired."

She looks back down at her textbook, using her spare time to study. This time, only two textbooks are laid out on the table, with one notebook shared between them. I couldn't see the subject she's reading, but the one on the table was calculus.

Aysa pauses from her reading and looks up, a thought occurred to her. "Have you applied for college, yet?"

I shake my head, "no."

"And you're not staying in-state, right?"

I shake my head again, before stopping myself. Harlow crosses my mind. "That was...originally the plan."

She quirks a brow at me, "originally?"

"I mean, that was always the best way to get away from my dad, you know? Leaving the state? But now, I kind of have...people here."

She pulls her lips together. "Don't tell me you're planning on staying in-state just for a boy."

My eyes widen. "Of course not!" I exclaim, offended by the accusation. "I mean, it's not the only reason."

Aysa sighs, dropping the textbook back on the table. "Kid," she meets my gaze, serious and composed. "You're going to meet a lot of people in your life, you can't just make your life decisions based on a guy."

"I'm not," I reason, "I just...I...I have more to lose now. It used to be just my mom that was holding me back, but now I have Harlow and I have you and I...I still don't know what I'm going to do."

She frowns, her eyes searching my face. I know relying on a man to get me out of my situation is a damsel in distress complex, and I'm not like that. I don't need him, I want him. He's my person. I would never put him through the emotional labor to get me out—that's something I need to overcome.

"Okay. First, you need to figure out what you're passionate about and what you want to do. It's your senior year, you don't have time to lose." Aysa told, as I nod. "Then, you should apply for colleges out-of-state and in-state, to see where everything is. Do not apply for him, apply for you and apply for the programs that interest you—not because of the college's name."

I nod once more, and Aysa waits. "Go. Do your research. Now."

"Right now?" I repeat.

"Yes." She answers simply, waiting for me to pull out my phone. I do, not bothering to argue with her or postponing my research till later. I went into notes, trying to list things that I'm passionate about and could make a career out of—but my mind is running a blank. I couldn't think of anything.

Maybe I should search for colleges first?

"Question." I hold up a finger, Aysa raises her head. She has returned to her books. "Since you said apply for myself, and not for Harlow—can I apply to your college?"

A small corner smile begins to appear on her lips, before she shakes her head. "Don't apply for me either."

"Okay, but can I at least get the name?"

Another shake. "No. You can figure that out."

I groan, but don't say anything else.

Current goal: find Aysa's college.

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i'm updating for themooniscallin and her only.

happy birthday, princess! i know you're probably asleep right now, and you're probably celebrating your birthday through your dreams, but happy birthday! genuinely talking to you today, just a bit about my books, made my day and made me smile and laugh so much. you're so sweet, and you've always given me your unwavering support, i'm happy i could provide you with some ~ scenes ~ for your birthday.