metro card//MGG

3

I've got a blue pen in my mouth as I highlight the time for a cast dinner in two weeks when a chocolate chip cookie is dangled in front of my face. I look up to see Matthew standing over me. the pen drops onto the planner.

"when did you get home?" I peek at the door, which is visible from the couch. there's no way I wouldn't have heard him come in.

"a few minutes ago. I literally said hi to you," he tells me, then furrows his brow at my blank expression. "in your zone?"

"apparently." the cookie is soft when I bite down. "I can't believe you still have these."

"I don't," he beams and sits at the opposite end of the couch. "last night, I tried the recipe you gave me."

"Matthew!" I exclaim proudly, leaning over and nudging his arm. he laughs.

"I'm just as surprised as you are."

I shake my head and we slip into a silence. he's still wearing his coat, a plaid thing that looks strangely elegant on him, and his hair is messy from the walk back to the apartment. I'm about to go back to my highlighting when I remember something important.

"hey. read those rewrites."

he throws his head back into the cushion, Adam's apple more pronounced as he lets out a groan.

"I'm older— I don't take orders from you." but there's a bit of a playful smile on his face.

"they're not my orders. they're Enid's." I raise my eyebrows and smile, daring him to challenge me further. he makes a face and starts to slump off the couch like an eel.

"oh my god." I snort. he gets up to retrieve his script and returns moments later, plopping down next to me. his cologne sneaks its way into my senses and fills me with a comforting feeling.

"you need a pen?" I ask. he looks over and nods. "I'll let you use one of my best." I hand him a jet black one and we get to work on our respective projects. with my earbuds in, he doesn't say anything to me. instead, my eyes travel over my neat handwriting and land on the squared-off edges of his fingertips. there's still a light ink stain on his index finger, which disappears quickly after he starts flipping frantically through the pages. he adjusts his glasses on his nose and keeps shifting, from tucking Converse-covered feet under his lap to stretching them out in front of him. he has a tendency to sit like a child, which is something we share. my parents used to yell at me about it, but it wasn't even something I was aware of. there was just a lot of energy stored up in my body, and it came out in the form of wiggly fingers and overactive legs.

"something on your mind?" his voice is muffled through my music, but I jump.

"sorry?" I pull one out of my ear and look at him with what I'm sure are enormous pupils.

"you haven't moved in about ten minutes." he tells me with a crooked smile. I've been caught, it seems.

"hm. nope," I shift and pull my knees up to my chest. "just thinking about tonight."

"oh, that's right!" his eyes light up with enthusiasm. "we're seeing that movie."

"yep. sorry it's not as artsy and cool as the stuff you probably usually watch." I feel myself apologizing.

"I love all movies. the last time I watched it was forever ago, too." he reassures.

"the music is really good." there's a flutter of excitement in my stomach.

"it's based in the 60's, right?"

"mhmm."

"then you're probably right. what time should we be there?"