his star ~ b. barnes

chapter one

☀︎︎☽

*ring ring* ... *ring ring* ... *ring ring*

i flip my body over so my face is directly in front of my bedside table, my clock displaying 5:45 a.m. in glowing, bold numbers. i close my eyes and pick up the buzzing phone, pressing to my ear while i answer in a scratchy morning voice.

"hello?"

the familiar voice of my coworker, nora, responds.

"gooood morning ry, how are we feeling today?"

"tired. are you curious why?" i don't give her time to say anything before i announce the answer to my own question "because it is 5:30 in the morning, nora."

"are you serious? that means i got here at like...4:15. and i've had five cups of coffee. and ry..."

"yes?" i stand and walk over to my bathroom while my call turns to speakerphone, grabbing my toothbrush and paste as i begin to scrape my teeth.

"i didn't go to sleep until 2 last night."

i giggle, already knowing this information because she was texting me while she watched the season finale of Schitts Creek during that time.

"what have you been doing for the past hour? we work at a bookshop for fucks sake. there's barely anything to do during the day." i spit the used paste into the sink, pressing my hands to the side of the counter as i stare at my reflection in the mirror.

my hair is in curls atop my head, my deep amber eyes matching my roots. my lips are a bit chapped from the cold weather outside, and one can tell my exhaustion from my puffy under eyes. i pull half my hair into a pony directly above my head, the rest laying along the side of my neck.

"well i got pastries from the spot down the street, then a cup of coffee at a cafe, then drank 2 more cups from our machine, and am now waiting for you to come in."

i apply my usual minimal makeup, then glide over to my dresser where i pull a black long-sleeved turtleneck and a pair of bell bottoms, then my worn out red converse.

"george isn't there yet?"

our manager, george hanson, is one of the most respectful men i know. he is 12 years older than nora and i, and just as single. its only us three that work in our shop the little bookstore, so we have built close friendships. i met nora in the states when we were both 14, and have lived our lives together ever since. neither of us wanted to attend college- i used to before my dad died, but then i threw caution to the wind and decided to move to london with nora. we applied to multiple jobs, both independently and together, never hearing back once. for three months we were on the lookout without pay, living in separate apartments, but only a block apart. we found a job at the bookstore after we had almost given up hope- george opened the shop a couple weeks after we had moved, but was understaffed, and unable to get applicants. now i am 29, (nora's 30), with a stable income, living in london, and working with a boss in a job i actually enjoy.

"yes, of course he is. i don't want to talk to him though."

i smirk at her stubbornness.

"why is that?"

"because he poured his tea ON MY NEW WHITE SWEATER." i faintly hear the deep voice of george saying it was an accident, and nora yelling back at him. she inhales then exhales before returning her attention towards our call.