I've never been an impulsive person. In fact, I'm probably too cautious. It's a wonder how I'm even related to my brothers since they're the impulsive ones. If it wasn't for some of the physical resemblance, I'd figure I was adopted.

Impulsive people always made mistakes. They always ended up in the middle of a storm they created and then complained about it when it rained. That's what I had observed in my own short life so far.

But being meticulous and careful hadn't done me much good either, as I learned that day in March.

I stared at my phone in disbelief, a sinking feeling in my stomach.

It was a phrase I had grown accustomed to by now. The dreaded words "Thank you for your interest but..."

That didn't mean it didn't hurt any less. By this point, I had probably sent hundreds of job applications. But it felt like an endless stream of applications and rejection emails. Like a revolving door of sorts. With every new application that was sent out, a denial would quickly come in.

I swallowed the bile threatening to creep up my throat. No matter how many times I tried to leave this fucking job, I somehow remained imprisoned within its cubic walls.

Around me, I could hear multiple agents speaking into their headsets, oblivious to the growing storm that was me just a few feet away.

Inhaling a deep breath, I deleted the email and put my phone away. The last thing I needed was to get caught with it and written up. The company was cracking down on phone use while at work. Well, with agents, at least. Supervisors and above could have their phones out and no one batted an eye.

Because of course.

I tried to go back to my work, taking phone call after phone call. But with each fucking idiot I spoke to, my already worn patience only grew thinner. I could hear myself growing terse with these annoying customers. I could feel myself shutting down.

I shouldn't be doing this. I shouldn't be here.

I deserved more than this. I was better than this.

A sudden notification on my computer caught my attention. It was from my supervisor.

My heart started to race at the message on my screen. He wanted to see me at his desk right away.

I had no idea what this was about. And being the overthinker I was, I immediately thought I had done something wrong. Had someone seen me with my phone out? Had I overstepped with a customer?

These were the thoughts that ran through my mind as I approached my supervisor's cubicle. I passed by Thiago's–my best friend–desk on the way over there. He noticed me and I must have had a grimace on my face since he furrowed his eyebrows and mouthed a silent, "What's wrong?"

I just shrugged my shoulders and continued my walk. My supe was waiting there for me already, but he didn't notice me slip inside since his back was kind of turned on me. It wasn't until I spoke that he finally turned to greet me.

"Hey Stuart," I said softly.

My supervisor's face split into a wide grin, and that was when I knew I wasn't in trouble. "Hey Jade, how are you doing?"

I took a seat across from him. "Good," I answered like I always did. And I went on to ask the same question I always did. "How are you?"

"Pretty good, pretty good." The smile on his face never wavered. He was usually like this. Smiling and cheerful, acting like we were best friends.

It made me sick.

Not because of his attitude, but because of how obviously phony it was.

And it was exhausting how I had to do the same. Not only around him, but at this entire fucking job.

"I called you here because we need to discuss your annual performance review," he continued.

I felt the tension in my shoulders ease up a little. "Oh, right," I said.

I couldn't believe I had forgotten all about it. But between my extracurricular activities, Zircon's reelection campaign kicking off, Piers's newest restaurant about to open, and my many, many job applications, somehow I had overlooked my annual performance review.

One of the reasons I had put up with this job for so long was because of the pay. Look, I know I wasn't hurting for money obviously. But knowing I had made that fortune with my own hands instead of because my dead parents left it to me in their will or because my brothers were supporting me felt good. Like I wasn't one of those typical spoiled rich kids who never worked a day in their life but somehow acted like everything they 'accomplished' was because of their hard work. When we all knew it was because of Daddy and Mommy's support.

And yes, those last few sentences are directed at those brats I call cousins. You know who you are.

Last year, I earned a full dollar raise, which is the most you can earn here. This year, I was so certain I had it in the bag again. Not only because I was one of the most tenured agents, but my metrics were practically perfect all across the board.

"This is how I rated you based on your metrics from the past year," my supe began to explain, pointing to his computer screen. "The first half of the year, you struggled. Even though you were under another supervisor..."

His words became muffled as I stared at the screen. Because all my eyes could focus on were the numbers at the bottom.

Below my metrics was what I hoped wasn't what I thought it was.

That familiar sinking feeling had returned with a vengeance.

The next words out of my supervisor's mouth just confirmed my fears.

"With all this in mind, you'll be getting a five-cent raise," he finished.

I remember my fists clenching at my sides, and I was glad he couldn't see them from where he sat.

That was beyond insulting. It was like a slap across the face.

But all I could do at that moment was nod my head like I understood where he was coming from. But I didn't. Not one bit.

Looking back now, I would've handled things differently. I would've pushed back more. Maybe I would've gotten into an argument instead of trying to force myself to stay calm.

But I just wanted to get out of there, away from him, as soon as possible. Every fucking minute with him felt like I was suffocating to death. Hell, every minute at this job did.

So with a heavy heart, I signed my name, agreeing to this insult of a raise. I quickly marched out of the cubicle, wanting nothing more than to be alone.

But I saw I wasn't going to get my wish when I returned to my desk. Thiago was there waiting for me, leaning against the desk.

"What happened?" he asked before I even had the chance to say anything.

I let out an irritated sigh. "I got my annual performance review... I only got a five-cent raise."

His jaw dropped. "Are you fucking kidding me?! I would've preferred if they didn't give me anything!"

I shook my head. "I know right? That's how I feel."

Thiago's large nostrils flared like a bull's. "How are you so calm about this? I'd be pissed!"

"I am," I told him through gritted teeth. "But I can't just flip out even though I want to. It's just another reminder of why I don't belong here."

Anger, for me, was a difficult emotion to achieve. At least to the point of screaming and throwing things. When I get angry, I usually shut down. As a Latina, I know that goes against every stereotype.

I wish I could say that it was due to my upbringing. That as a Salvador, especially a woman, I was taught to hide my anger. And maybe that's true since my brothers never lashed out publicly due to their high-profile careers.

But privately?

You'd hightail it out of there if you didn't want to be cussed out or have your eardrums busted.

"What a fucking joke," Thiago muttered as I took my seat.

"What about you? What was your raise?" I asked despite knowing he probably got way more than I did.

"I got the full dollar," he answered.

I felt my insides twist, but on the outside, I gave a tight-lipped smile and said, "That's great. You deserve it."

Thiago and I had been friends since high school. He had been my longest friend, and to be honest, my only friend. But we couldn't have been any more different. My family came from old money while his was relatively new. His personality was more in line with my brothers, which explained why they all got along so well. He was probably the sibling they wished they had since he was outgoing and popular and extroverted. All the things I wasn't.

Even at this shitty job, his experience here was completely different from mine. Thiago somehow enjoyed it and was able to promote up. But maybe it was because unlike me, his safety net had been cut off, and he had no other choice than to make the best of it.

"If I were you," Thiago continued, his arms folded over his chest. "I wouldn't sign that you accept that raise."

I said nothing and just sighed again. It was too late for that.

Because of how well Thiago knew me, he knew that I had signed. It was his turn to sigh dramatically.

"Bitch, I can't believe you did that!"

Fighting back an eye roll, I furrowed my eyebrows, and grumbled, "What else could I do? Like I said, it's just another reminder from the universe that I don't belong here. That I'm not valued here. I already have one foot out the door. Maybe this will be the reason that pushes both feet out."

Thiago kept his arms crossed as he pushed himself off my desk. "We're going out tonight," he said, a mischievous twinkle in his brown eyes.

I shook my head. "No."

"Girl, you always say that!" he whined. "C'mon! You need to go out!"

"Because you always think going out and getting drunk is the answer to everything," I remarked. "No. I'm going straight home after this."

He rolled his eyes, clearly annoyed by my refusal to budge. "Boo, you whore. You need to start living a little and stop being such a homebody."

Unable to hold back my own eye roll, I watched as he walked away towards his desk. He had been after for me years to go out clubbing and bar hopping with him, but I never took him up on it.

What good would it do? It might make me feel better for a little bit, but the next day when reality hit, I'd feel even worse. I didn't even need to try it to know this.

Sometimes, I was too logical for my own good.

I didn't know how I got through the rest of the day. I was on autopilot, just going through the motions. I couldn't wait to escape this fluorescent hellscape and collapse on my bed, preferably next to my dog.

Eventually, the day was over, and I couldn't run out that door fast enough. Thiago had already clocked out before me since he had an earlier schedule, so I headed straight for my car. On the drive home, all I could do was ruminate on how I was now a twenty-four-year-old and how this was so far off from how I envisioned it.

That was the thing about birthdays and why I started to resent them. It provided a chance to reflect on where I went wrong in life.

And that was the problem. I couldn't really pinpoint where I failed. It wasn't like I got pregnant as a teen, or out of wedlock. Married a loser. Gotten addicted to drugs. Got into financial debt. All the common reasons I saw around me.

When I arrived home, I saw Zircon's Mercedes in our massive driveway.

Great. Practically one of the last people I wanted to see right now.

Other than my other idiot brother.

But Tweedledum moved out years ago, so I was stuck with Tweedledee.

Unlocking the front door, I was instantly greeted by a drooling tongue attached to an oversized husky.

"Hi, Celeste." I stroked her head lovingly as she continued to lick me.

"Finally! You're here," my brother called from down the hall. "Do you know how many times I've had to clean my suit because of that stupid dog? It's like cleaning up after a fucking bear with how much she sheds!"

Zircon stepped into my view, his brow practically twitching as he stared at me. I gave him a once-over, not impressed by his indigo-colored suit.

"Where are you going?" I asked as I walked past him toward the basement.

Zircon let out a deep sigh through his nostrils. "I'm going to have dinner with Vera."

This made me pause. I thought these two were done for good. "What for?"

"She wants to try to make this work," he said. "And with the election coming up, being caught in a messy divorce would hurt my numbers."

Of course. This wasn't about realizing he had fucked up and Vera was his one true love. This was about his reelection campaign.

But I should've known better since you don't divorce and then remarry the same person, only to separate if they were your true love.

I must have been making a face since Zircon waved me off and said, "You're too young to understand. Plus, it's not like you have any experience to understand."

Now, for sure I knew I was scowling. "If being in a relationship is anything like yours, then I'm fine remaining ignorant."

He scoffed. "Jade, this is why you never had a boyfriend. Because no one wants to hear you constantly judging them."

"You make it sound as if I ever wanted one in the first place." I rolled my eyes, gesturing for Celeste to follow me downstairs to the basement, where my room had been for the past twelve years. Celeste ran ahead of me, further into the spacious basement where my bed was. By the time I reached it, Celeste was already on top, looking at me with those sad puppy dog eyes.

It was as if she could sense my mood, which was only confirmed when I lied next to her, and she instantly curled up next to me.

"Who needs friends?" I asked her. "I've got you. And Thiago. And unfortunately for both me and them, Zircon and Piers."

And when I said those words, I did mean them. I was rarely lonely despite often being alone. I could entertain myself as seen with the eccentric hobby I had taken up recently.

At the thought of my catfishing, I pulled out my phone from my pocket. Opening up each dating app, I read through the dozens of messages and notifications I missed since yesterday. Nothing particularly interesting had happened. More matches. More cringey one-liners.

But there had been one guy I had been messaging. A middle-aged, greasy rat-faced fuck.

I'm telling you. People didn't even try to disguise their actual identities while trying to hook up with children.

I stared at his latest message. He was asking to meet up.

In person.

My one rule had been that I would never meet up with these fuckers. Not just because it was potentially dangerous, but because I didn't even want to breathe the same pedophilic particles they did.

As I started to formulate a response, I heard my brother call out to me.

"You seriously need to get some hobbies and friends," Zircon observed me from the door, a disapproving frown etched on his features. "When I was your age, I was never at home. I couldn't stand to be. But every day, you're always in your room on that damn phone. Or reading a book. I'd be bored out of my fucking mind."

"I have friends," I snapped, putting down my phone.

"Oh really?" He raised an eyebrow. "Name five."

"Thiago, you, Piers, Celeste." I struggled to name the final one. "And Vera. I was the one who told her to divorce you the first time."

Zircon's cheek twitched as he stood in the doorway. "Your brothers don't count as friends."

"Okay, fine." I crossed my arms over my chest. "What about cousins? I have plenty of those."

Heaving a sigh, Zircon rubbed his temple. "I don't have time for your snark, Jade. I have to get going. You know how Vera gets when I'm not on time."

I watched as he turned around and walked out of the basement. When I heard the car start outside, I picked up my phone again, continuing where I left off with Mr. Ratface. But after telling him I wouldn't meet up with him, I found that I couldn't press send. It was like my fingers physically couldn't.

And I didn't know why.

The day's events replayed through my mind. All the tomfoolery, all the bullshit.

Thiago's jabs. Zircon's criticism.

But the truth was, this wasn't just solely confined to today. This routine had been going on for a while now. For the past several years since I graduated college.

Maybe even longer.

And I was honestly sick of it.

I was feeling a little reckless. A little impulsive. Two words no one would describe me as.

Perhaps Thiago and Zircon were right. I did need to go out more. Find a new hobby. Meet new people.

Of course, meeting up with a predator probably wasn't what they had in mind.

So against my better judgment, I said fuck it and erased my previous text, replacing it with the words:

Sounds good. Where do u want to meet?