"Hi."

"Hi Ravan," Sorell said as she put on her Airpods.

"How was your day?"

Sorell sighed before patting her serum on her face, "it was athletic. How was yours?"

"Same. I filled in the papers for the supplies, visited a location for another store in Paris."

"Wow, your stores are becoming a real franchise," the woman added as she put on her eye cream.

"Haircare will never go out of fashion. Also, there's always a new trend or movement. Honestly, I think the only thing that could kill our vibe would be if someone made being bald trendy."

The short silence that followed didn't bother Ravan, who continued, "by the way, I haven't seen you in store for a while," the man said as he paced in the storage room.

"Eh," since their first encounter Sorell opted for online purchasing, and she read the reviews for advice. The woman didn't want to risk bumping into him, "I've got enough supplies."

"If you need anything, in particular, let me know. I know how your hair soaks up moisture."

Ravan still had the image of Sorell's big puffs, twists, and twin braids. She rarely added length with Kanekalon or other synthetics. The man wondered why the woman only opted for wigs on tv with the healthy hair she had. Sorell took care of her natural hair so well that Ravan imagined the kinky curls surpassing her armpits minimum. They were probably waist-length when straightened.

This time Ravan noted the lack of response, "Sorell?"

"Hmm, yes, I'm here. I was finishing off my skincare routine."

"What's the matter? You sound a little down," The man also noticed the changing tone.

Sorell entered her kitchen, "the day was exhausting and my boss is hounding me."

Ravan halted in the middle of the storage room and cocked a brow, "hounding you?"

"I want the evening news; I need my ratings to go up, but people on social media detest me. And my boss is asking me to change their opinion. As if I control what people think of me."

"Oh, I see."

Ravan knew how unpopular she was. He checked on Sorell's pages from time to time. There were many hate messages. Everything she said got a backlash.

She would say: A woman chooses what to do with her body. If she is not ready to deliver, abortion is her choice.

Then all the religious cults would ring bells of shame on her wall.

If she responded and said: The best way is not to have unprotected sex in the first place.

She had more religious cults coming with: She's promoting sex before marriage.

And the other raining down with: Sex is liberty, mam.

This was just an example of the many altercations Ravan saw.

"Regie says it's easy, but it's a pain for me. I don't know how to pretend," Sorell said as she filled her kettle with water.

"You don't have to, just be you," Ravan said, resuming with his pacing. Both appeasing and nerve-racking, the man discovered how stressed he was to speak to his crush.

"How can I do that? People are attacking me about subjects that are out of my field of competence. I don't even know what to reply. I mean, they're even throwing the bonnet issue on me."

"The bonnet?"

Sorell explained, and Ravan chuckled at the other end, "oh Sorell, it's ridiculous."

"Tell me about it?"

"You know what I would do?"

"What?" Sorell said as she sat on her kitchen high stool.

"Do you wear a bonnet to bed?"

Sorell rolled her eyes to the side, "ever seen a black person without when going to sleep."

"True, they're bestsellers in our stores. Even I wear one."

Sorell laughed; it was the first time in a while, if not to say years, "no, Ravan, don't say that."

"What? How do you think I keep all this shine and bounce, huh? Wrapping is key. When we advise customers at Fro Pouss, we know the deal."

"Ravan, I can'tㅡ," the woman imagined Ravan and future Ms. Chakrabarati in bed with their bonnets, "so you'reㅡ," Sorell couldn't handle it, "ㅡso you're telling me." The woman was breathless and unable to finish her sentence. She counted to three in her mind and tried again, "ㅡ you're telling me the women you date, see you with your bonnet?"

This time Sorell imagined Ravan with his fitness coach abs entering the bedroom with his nightcap. The vision had her mentally saying, Lord have mercy for more than one reason.

"No, I haven't been with a woman long enough to get to that stage. You know how it is you want to impress. At first, you wait a few months before dropping the bonnet, the aloe vera home mix, face egg mask, and threading the hairs between your eyes."

The woman died. Sorell laughed so hard she thought her lungs were collapsing.

"Ravan, oh my, be blessed," the woman wiped the tears, "wow, Ms. Chakarabarati is in for some memorable moments."

Sorell envied the woman Ravan had in mind. Not only would she have an intelligent and considerate man but also someone she could have a good laugh with daily.

"Memorable moments are created each day. So concerning your issue, I'd just post a pic of myself going to bed with a bonnet and a basic caption like goodnight to clear it up."

"No, Ravan, you're crazy. I'd be a meme the next day."

"So, we all know funny videos have the highest viral potential. Being laughed at never killed anyone. People make millions by making a joke out of themselves."

"I'm a newscaster, not a TikToker."

"Sorell, even Michelle Obama has memes," the man hugged himself he had spent too much time in the middle of the aisles. He left the storage room and went down to the store where the sales assistants finished placing products.

"You know what? Your problem is you're trying too hard to be perfect."

"No, I'm not. It's just I'm already trolled to death. You don't know how it is to fear to speak one's mind."

"Sorell, you speak your mind all the time despite this. Your boss told you to turn the tables. Use the latest social trends to your advantage," Ravan said as he stepped outside the store to stop the eavesdroppers from picking up on his conversation.

"Oh yeah, even if it includes what we do together?"

The man frowned, "what do you mean by what we do?"

"We trended on Twitter this weekend because of the metro and that photo you wanted me to take."

"Really?"

"If you're seen with me, you'll be thrown in the equation."

Ravan smiled, "It's a small price to pay to be with you."

"Pardon, I lost you, Ravan," Sorell said as she poured the water in her bowl to make her instant soup.

"I was saying, are you free Wednesday night?" The man remixed.

"Yeah, why?"

"To go out, what else?" The man replied.

"Ravan, did you hear what I said?"

"Yes, throw me in the equation," the tone was joyful. The man didn't know what he was signing up for, the woman thought.

Sorell shook her head and stirred her instant cream and mushroom soup, "are you sure you're okay with being seen with me?"

"As sure as I'll ever be."

"Ravan."

"What?"

"Don't say things like that," the woman's heart skipped making it difficult for Sorell to keep a lid on her feelings. She hated the sensations Ravan stirred. The man gave her attention and made her think she was special. It was unsettling, and Sorell didn't know what to think of it.

Especially when their high school years memories flooded in her mind like Kanye West's 808's & Heartbreak slash Taylor Swift's Fearless albums. The cocktail was a Molotov, but back then, when her heartbeat drummed for Ravan, Sorell slew both while hoping the guy would notice her.

"So we're good for Wednesday?"

"Yes, sure, Ravan. I'll reserve my evening for you."

"Great," the man raised his hands in the air and pumped.

"Alright, Ravan, I have to leave you. I'm going to eat."

"Oh okay, bonne appetite."

"Merci, talk to you later."

"Yes, talk to you later."

They hung up.

Ravan couldn't believe his luck. Sorell accepted the date without any objections. Then again, he didn't think she paid attention to the dates. They were Monday twelve of February.

Wednesday was the 14th, aka Valentine's Day.