Grooving to Life's Beat

Just An Ordinary Day

I walked down the hallway toward my writing class, the click of my high heels mingling with the sound of hurried footsteps, distant laughter, and snippets of conversation. Second day, and I still hadn't spoken to anyone. Why was this so hard? I mean, it's not like I hadn't been around people before. I lived in Washington, for crying out loud, a city filled with enough social functions to make anyone lose their voice from small talk alone. But here I was, feeling like an awkward freshman who couldn't figure out how to make friends.

I adjusted the oversized blazer draped over my shoulders and shifted my Birkin bag in my hands, silently hoping I looked more confident than I felt. High heels and a white top were my armor for the day, as if dressing like someone who had their life together would actually help me fake it until I made it.

As I reached the classroom, the sound hit me first. Laughter, chatter, the kind of easy conversation that only comes from people who already belong. I paused for half a second, took a breath, and pushed the door open, stepping straight into the noise like I wasn't completely out of my depth.

Once into the classroom, it felt like the entire room turned toward me at once, like I had walked onto a stage without rehearsing. My cheeks burned, and that familiar pang hit my stomach. Why is everyone looking at me?

I tucked in the back of the room, and slid into an empty seat, immediately pulling out The Great Gatsby book, trying to pretend I'm busy. It usually works!

But as I stared at the pages, the words refused to make sense. Instead, my thoughts kept drifting. Drifting back to Alexander and Madison. At how seeing them together had torn open something inside me. Something I wasn't ready to deal with. No matter how hard I tried to focus, Gatsby's green light wasn't going to pull me out of this one. Not this time.

Darling," a voice said from above, smooth and dramatic. "Are you in an existential crisis or just really bad at pretending to read?"

I looked up. And blinked.

The guy standing in front of me had hair styled in a way that could only be described as chaotic. He had sharp cheekbones, almond shaped eyes, and a smirk that suggested he found the world endlessly amusing. He wore a floral shirt with the top buttons undone, revealing a sliver necklace that gleamed against his collarbone. His look was... extravagant, at least.

"I'm Stephan Yamaguchi! Eccentric, gay, and problematic." he declared sliding into the seat next to me without asking. "You've been warned."

I blinked again, scrambling to catch up. "Hi! I'm Emma Spencer," I said, my voice a half-laugh. "Apparently... bad at blending in."

"Enchanté!" He chuckled and leaned in, resting his chin on his hand. "So, tell me, Gatsby. Did you come in New York to chase your long-lost love?" he teased, gesturing to the book I was holding.

I let out a breathy laugh. "More like running a marathon away from it."

Mmm," he said, tilting his head. "Classic breakup move. You dye your hair and skip town

I smiled. "Kind off... I just thought a new city might bring me some clarity."

Stephan rolled his eyes so hard I was sure they did a full 360. "Clarity? Here? Honey, New York is a full-time illusionist. Pulls a rabbit outta one hat and steals your watch with the other." Then his eyes dropped to my wrist, and his whole expression shifted. "Wait. Wait. Is that a real Rolex?"

I glanced down, suddenly aware of the shimmer of gold against my skin. "Uh... yeah," I said, a little sheepish. "It was a graduation gift."

A eighteen-karat gold Rolex. Forty thousand dollars' worth of pride and pressure, ticking quietly against my pulse. It had been a gift from my father the day I graduated law school. His version of a crown, I guess. A statement that I had followed the plan. Done the right thing. Made the family proud.

Stephan let out a scandalized gasp. "Darling! That thing costs more than my car." Then, he snatched my wrist to inspect the watch. "Do your parents, by any chance, adopt? I can be very well-behaved. Ish."

I burst out laughing. "Trust me," I said, still grinning, "you do not want to be part of that family."

"Please. I've seen Succession. I'd thrive."

"You'd last five minutes before throwing a fit over the table linen," I teased.

Stephan's smirk widened. "Can't be that bad!"

Before I could answer, the classroom door swung open with a sharp creak, and just like that, the energy in the room shifted. A tall woman with silver-streaked hair and sharp glasses stepped in, holding a stack of folders.

"Welcome to New York, Gatsby." Stephan said, already walking backward toward his seat. "Hope your fancy watch can keep up with the ticking of this Crazy City."

I opened my notebook and grabbed my pen. The one thing I truly loved. The only thing I was ever really good at. And maybe... maybe this was the beginning of a new life.
Maybe it wasn't clarity I needed after all.
Maybe it was freedom.

Day by day, I'd learn. I'd write. I'd meet people.
Angela.
Stephan.

Marshall.