LANA MASON
New Year's came and went as officially the most mundane holiday I've ever experienced. Typically, I love New Year's Eve and either going out or staying in with my friends even if I didn't have a person to kiss at midnight. That never bothered me before, but just as I thought Thanksgiving and Christmas would have been different after I started seeing Harry, I had high hopes for New Year's as well. I thought I'd get my first midnight kiss with someone I love, but instead, I was shivering in bed and throwing up every hour.
Now that I'm fully recovered from the flu or whatever god-forsaken sickness that was, I truly have no excuse to not be job hunting like a madwoman the way that I should right now. Instead, I'm on Maya's cloud couch with my sketchpad again, re-watching The Office from the first season. I keep telling myself that I'm waiting until I'm one hundred percent better, but that's bullshit. All I have is the slightest runny nose. There's nothing actually stopping me from looking for a job.
Dressed in her workout set and a long puffer, Maya walks in from the front door and removes her AirPods as she reciprocates my wave. Most everyone in the world has a goal to start working out more this year, but this is just her average Friday coming home from an afternoon hot pilates session.
"How was it?" I bring my legs closer to me as if there isn't plenty of room for her to sit anywhere she wants on this giant couch.
"Packed," she mutters, plopping down with a green juice. "I can't wait until people realize that they actually hate working out and they stop going to classes just to take pictures of themselves in their new Lululemon sets."
I smile at her little rant. "Yeah, that's why I don't even bother."
She nods with a knowing chuckle. I like wellness and do my best to take care of myself, but working out isn't my favorite pastime. She knows that.
"What are you up to?"
I turn my notebook around to show her the sketch I have going of a little red dress with a plunging sweetheart neckline and accentuated waist. Her jaw drops as she snatches the book from me. I knew she would like it because I was designing it with her in mind.
"Wait, this is so cute, what the fuck?"
"Yeah, I can imagine you in something like this," I yawn and turn my head to blink at the TV.
"Can you make it for me?"
I tear my eyes away from Michael Scott spanking his bent-over grown-adult nephew as a punishment in front of the whole office, laughing to myself as I focus on Maya again.
"What?"
"Can you make the dress for me?"
I glance down at the notebook. "What do you mean?"
"What do you mean, 'what do I mean?'" She scoffs. "I mean make it."
Her sudden bratty attitude makes me laugh. "Like actually construct it so you can wear it?"
"Yeah," she studies the sketch again.
I consider the idea for only a few seconds before reality kicks in. "Maybe when I can afford the supplies and everything."
"What if I give you money for the supplies?"
I deadpan and tilt my head at her. "I think you've done enough to help me, My."
"But this is for me," she reminds me. "Not for you."
I'm not sure why I keep waiting for her to say that she's just kidding, but she's just staring at me while I'm staring at her. "Really?"
