Sophia

...

I'm just finishing up my shift when Laurel corners me by the time clock. My stomach does an uncomfortable flip because I know that look in her eyes – curiosity and excitement.

She's been watching me, I realize. Watching the sleek black car that picks me up everyday after work and  the mysterious woman dressed in black who waits inside.

"So," Laurel drawls, leaning against the wall casually. Her brown hair catches the dying sun,  and I try not to notice how pretty she looks right now. "Who's that?"

Through the glass window, I can see Dana waiting by the car, looking effortlessly cool in her designer sunglasses and perfectly pressed slacks.

She always dresses like she's stepped out of a magazine, but in a way that suggests she doesn't give a damn about it. The late afternoon sun turns her dark hair to silk, and a light breeze ruffles her white shirt.

My heart hammers against my ribs.

"Oh, that's my aunt," the lie slips out smooth as butter. "She's in town for a while."

Laurel's eyes narrow slightly, and I can see the doubt and confusion on her face.

"Really? You never talk about her."

I force a laugh, though it sounds hollow even to my own ears.

"Yeah, she's my Aunt Dana. Mom's younger sister." The lies keep coming, each one building on the last like a house of cards that could collapse at any moment.

"She's actually the reason I moved here. She travels a lot for work but always told me what a great city this is."

"What does she do?" Laurel asks, and there's something in her tone that tells me she's not buying my crap.

"International sales," I blurt out and the next part is filled with carefully curated lies about family holidays and childhood memories that never happened.

With each word, I'm digging myself deeper, but I can't stop. I see the doubt in Laurel's eyes start to fade, the hard lines of skepticism on her face softening ever so slightly.

Her gaze that was piercing and cold, now holds a flicker hesitant hope. But not completely. There's still a shadow of uncertainty lingering there. A whole barrier that my words need to fully breach.

My heart races, grappling for anything to make her believe me.

My phone buzzes in my pocket – probably Dana wondering what's taking me so long.

"I should go. She's waiting."

"Of course," Laurel says, pushing off the wall. "Maybe we could grab coffee sometime? I'd love to hear more about your family."

The words make my stomach flutter but a second later reality kicks in. I shouldn't want this. I can't have it. The normal friendships and coffee dates and talking about family with someone... all of this is just a sweet illusion that I believe I can have.

"Yeah, maybe," I say, already knowing it can't happen.

I hurry toward the exit, feeling Laurel's gaze on my back.

"Call me later princess," Laurel shouts but I pretend not to hear because help me I'm blushing so hard right now.

Dana's watching me approach, her expression unreadable behind those dark lenses. My heart rate quickens with each step, wondering if she noticed Laurel or the blushing.

She warned me about making friends. I wonder what she will say.

"You're late," she says as I slide into the passenger seat. The air conditioning hits my flushed skin. "Who was that?"

I stare straight ahead, focusing on the shimmer of heat rising from the pavement.

"Workmate," I lie.

But I know Dana. I know what she'll say if I tell her the truth – that Laurel is just a very regular customer who somehow turned into a friend and she is smart and funny and makes the endless hours of my decoy job bearable.

That sometimes, when she gives me her dimpled smiles, I forget for a moment what I'm really doing here.

Dana's quiet for a moment. I can feel her studying me.

"I don't need to remind you why we're here, Sophia." Her voice is soft, but cold. "You can't trust anyone."

"I know," I say, because it's what she wants to hear. Because it's what I need to remind myself.

But as we drive away, I catch a glimpse of Laurel through the window. She's still standing by the hardware door, watching.

Dana's right – I can't trust anyone.

Dana doesn't need to remind me.

I think about the way Laurel looks at me sometimes, like she can see past the lies. Like she's trying to solve a puzzle of some sort.

And maybe that's why Dana's warning hits so hard – because part of me wants her to.

But that's not my life. So, I lean back in my seat, close my eyes against the setting sun, and remind myself why we're here. Why all these lies are necessary.

Still, I can't quite shake the image of Laurel's face, the warmth in her eyes when she invited me for coffee. Can't silence the small voice inside me that whispers: what if?

But I know better than to listen to that voice. In this life, there's no room for what-ifs. No space for real connections or honest friendships or anything that isn't carefully calculated and controlled.

So I push thoughts of Laurel aside, lock them away with all the other things I can't have. Tomorrow, I'll go back to work. I'll smile and nod and play my part and in the night, I will dress sexy for a very older man who likes to touch young women.

I glance out the window, the world rushing by in a blur, but my mind is stuck on Laurel.

The way she looked at me, the concern in her voice—it’s unsettling, in a way I didn’t expect. There’s something different about herm And it’s making it harder to keep this pretend shit up.

But I can’t let her in, it's all to keep us both safe.