February 14th, 2017
Lacey's POV:
He's sound asleep, and I'm sneaking out. I've never had to do this before. I never imagined that I'd do this. With my head stuck in a book, and my mind alive, I'd always thought I would have the perfect man--a prince. I thought he'd see me reading in the library--my second home--and sweep me off my feet--or the floor. That romanticized view of men turned to shit a couple weeks ago.
Men are shit.
Even the nice men: the ones who buy you flowers, take you out on dates, even call you their "girlfriend"--those men are the shittiest. They wow you with this stuff, when in the end, they're just like the rest. They're worse; they do all this stuff to mask their shittiness--at least the shitty ones own it.
I can't help but chuckle to myself as I button up my shirt after sleeping with my bestfriend's boyfriend. We just met a couple weeks ago, but she's still the closest person to me--and now, we're even closer. This won't happen again--that's what I said the first time.
12 Hours Earlier
"You sure you'll be okay? I don't want you to be alone on Valentine's Day."
"Yeah, I'll be fine," I wave her off. I won't exactly be alone all day.
"Mmkay," she sighs, placing her perfume down, "You know we can easily fit three into our night," Terra says sincerely.
"No. I'll feel like a third wheel. I'm fine with just being knee-deep in this book," I chuckle.
She nods solemnly, "Ok."
I feel bad. I never told her about my meeting with Harry, among other things. But then I remind myself of her mysterious phone call. She's not fully innocent. But, we're colleagues; we have a mission to complete--for the good of society.
This is so fucked.
Present Time
This is their night. I wonder if they got in a fight or something. I shouldn't be here.
I need to find my bra. It's not on the floor with the rest of my stuff. Please don't be underneath him, please don't be...
I think he's on top of it.
I've only ever done this "hook up" thing about twice--this is the second time. I had a steady boyfriend for a while, but that's been long over. I'm not fully sure how to proceed.
"Can you--" I mutter.
I pull the pink strap, peeking from his side, from under him. He murmurs lowly and turns over.
Putting on the clothes I came in, I take the walk of shame. I just pray no one comes out of their room and sees. I speed to my own dorm, desperately hoping to erase the details of tonight. The way he touched me--it was nice, really nice. But, it's over. This was the last time. I'm not hurting Terra anymore. There's no evidence of my being there--this was a one time thing. It's not happening anymore.
June 2040
Kara's POV:
This is cool, really cool. I'm gripping his arm tightly, just in case this time travel thing is more dangerous the second time.
He's totally beaming. The bright light swirls around us, and we're off.
"Ooh, where are we?," I ask.
"2016."
Interesting...
"I mean, it shouldn't be too different than our time, you know," I say.
"Except with more sexism."
"Well, not more, just reflected."
"Right."
"More racism, though."
"Yeah," he sighs.
We've arrived in an ally. It's wet and swampy. Pollution's at an all time high because the sky is an opaque shade of gray. Ever since the Reverse, pollution has gone down exponentially. It's clear to see that with women in charge, well... things are just better... mostly.
"A hell of a lot more pollution out here."
"Yeah, this shit's horrible. I can feel my lungs struggling." He turns to me and rolls his eyes, "Do you think you could release your grip a little?"
"Oh," I look down. "Sorry. I just didn't want," I stutter, "I was scared that--"
"Mmhm," he hums.
"Whatever, Shawn," I laugh, "Let's explore. And put the remote in your pocket."
"Relax, it's not like anyone's gonna assume that it's magic or something."
"Even more strange: a guy with a remote control in his hand--in broad daylight."
He rolls his eyes, "Here."
At least I know where to put it.
"Really, your butt pocket?," he laughs.
"Better than out in the open. We-We need to plan this better," I chuckle.
"Right. You hungry?," he asks.
"Always." No, really. I skipped breakfast. Granted, I did indulge for lunch, but still. If he's buying...
"Look, a McDonald's. Let's see if they changed much."
"Let's," I clap my hands giddily.
"Ok. Two Quarter Pounder meals. One McFlurry Oreo and a Sprite. That'll be $12.95."
Shawn swipes his card.
"It's invalid," she grumbles. Invalid? Shit.
"Oh no. It just got renewed. This must be a mistake," he says.
"Here. $13. Keep the change," I hand her some cash. Shawn just looks over with disapproval. The cashier's just happy to be done with us.
We head over to some vacant seats and he's still scowling.
I huff, "What's wrong now?"
"I don't need you to pay for me. I'm not some charity case."
"I know. Charity cases are nice and grateful. Your bank didn't exist in 2016. Nor did you or your card."
"Shit," he takes a breath. "The expiration date's 2045."
"We'll just have to hope they think it was a scam or something. And be more careful. That's why I paid."
He nods slowly.
"Feeling a little stupid now, don't you?"
"Nope," he puts a handful of fries in his mouth—from my fries.
He giggles with the most mischievous smile. In response, I just take double that amount from his, "Two can play at this game."
"So," I clear my throat, "you never told me exactly what your story was—I mean the full story about like why you hate the New World."
He looks down, "I haven't really told anyone."
"I don't want to for—"
"No, I trust you," I give him a warm smile. "As you know, I'm adopted. My adoptive mom took me out of my dad's shithole apartment."
"Wait, I thought—"
"Dad basically worked as a prostitute out of our home. I didn't know what it was back then, but it was sick. We were poor and we struggled, a lot. My mom left me right after I got out of the womb. She shouldn't even be labeled a mom. She's a heartless incubator… wherever she is. Around the time I turned 9, Child Protective Services got contacted, and shortly after, I was adopted."
"So basically your birth mom and dad fucked you over?"
He chuckles. "Sorry to be so blunt," I scramble.
"No, it's fine, I guess. Dad didn't really fuck me over… more like he just let shit hit the fan, and didn't try to change it," he shrugs, taking a bite of his burger.
I can't even eat right now. This is just… horrible.
He looks up suddenly, "Why aren't you eating?"
"Discovered I'm not really hungry," I shrug.
He rolls his eyes, "You're always hungry. Give me a break."
"I feel it's a little inappropriate for me to stuff my face while you air out your family troubles."
"No, it's fine. I insist."
So, I take a bite. It's horrible. The fries are soggy, and the burger meat is rubber.
I literally have to force it down. "That's--"
"I know," he interjects. "I guess we can assume that food quality has definitely gotten better after 24 years."
I laugh, "Yeah, I'll remember to be grateful for every bite when we get back."
He chuckles. I poke around the fries, but I can't find a good one.
Then, he straightens, "There's something I haven't told you yet."
"Oh, no."
"No, it's not that bad."
"Well, I'll control my reaction, since we're literally in a compromised position... time."
"It won't make you mad... I don't think."
I sigh, "Okay, out with it," as I down an oil-soaked fry.
"I went to the future. I mean, like 2042 so not that far, and--" he spaces out. There's this blank look in his eyes. I can't place it, but somehow that honey color turns deep brown.
He takes another bite of the horrendous burger, so this must be bad.
"Wh-What?"
"There was nothing. The land--i-it was empty."
"Like what? Pollution, or--"
"There were no people, no plants, just hollow buildings. I--"
"2042. That's just a couple years from--"
"I know."
We sit in silence for a while.
"What do you think happened?," I ask.
"Maybe a meteor or aliens. How the fuck should I know?!"
"This is no time for your sarcasm," I shake my head.
"Sorry," he puts his hand on mine. "It's just really scary. I don't think we can fix whatever happens. I-I," he stutters.
"Let's just focus on now, okay. Maybe it's just gonna change. Future events can change at any time, right? Now, we came here on a mission. Well, we came today to explore, but you get the point. We're going to stick with that. As long as we don't have to suffer ingestion of anymore of... what they call food."
"You're right. Let's go. And yeah, no more 'food'," he airquotes.
Haha, absolutely no more food. Never again. Maybe if it's home cooked... or soul food.
We walk outside and we're cornered by some group of guys. I walk through, expecting them to part for us, but I end up just bumping into one of them.
"Excuse me," I say. He really should have moved over.
I guess Shawn didn't expect as much, as he walked around them. The guy and his friends just chuckle in response.
"Watch where you goin!," he barks, as he makes the rest of the way into the McDonald's. Rude.
They enter the restaurant, and I meet Shawn with anger.
"They were so fucking rude."
He shrugs, "That's how it was before. They won't make way for you."
"Yeah, I see that," I grab at my elbows. "I think it's time to go."
"No, you need to spend more time outside of your comfort zone. Experience," he smiles.
"Nasty food is different from deliberate mistreatment."
"Maybe..."
I roll my eyes, "Fine."
"Let's just walk up the street for a couple blocks. It won't matter if we get lost."
"Right, let's walk."
We take a few steps, then I turn sharply.
"What is it?," he asks.
"We should probably," I walk over to him, grabbing his hand. "Just to ward off the catcallers. I heard that they respect a man more, so..."
"Yeah," he says.
We see beautiful murals on the sides of buildings and posters and signs--all advocating for womens' rights. Abortion rights, the expulsion of the tampon tax, you name it. Now, it's in reverse. Except for the fact that men can't put signs like these up. It would be regarded as hate speech; and the Anti-New Worlders, a hate group. But it's different for them; they've had domain over women for hundreds of years. Women are just having a chance. Would it be wrong of me to--
"That painting's beautiful, but you know if a mens' version were put up in our time..."
I make a clicking sound, and a knife gesture to my neck, "It would be taken down, and who knows what would happen to the artist," I say.
He mirrors my neck gesture. Right.
Shortly, we reach a childrens' park. Kids swing up and down on the swings, people ride their bikes around the perimeter, and some are just laying on blankets, staring at the very gray sky. I mean, this pollution issue is way worse now than in 2040.
"It's beautiful. Not the sky, but just everyone's cooperation with one another. The kids, they're so cute," I say.
"You are so mushy."
"I'm not," I shove him. "I just know how to appreciate beautiful scenery."
He rolls his eyes, "You're totally one of those people."
"What people?," I chuckle.
"Those people who plan out their whole life... husband, kids, white picket fence."
"What? I'm not." *Flashbacks of me wanting to be Mrs. Thompson*. "Wait, what's wrong with being one of those people?"
He shrugs, "It's just... mushy," he chuckles.
"Stop saying that," I cover my eyes.
He pulls them down and kisses me. This time, I pull back.
"I-I like being a little mushy. It builds character."
"I guess I kinda like it, too." He places his hand on mine.
"We--"
He interjects, "I know. You don't want to be that way with me. You just want business."
"Right. We can be friends, too."
"Right," he removes his hand, "We should go. Didn't you sneak out?"
"Shit, yeah. I've got to get back to that horrendous party. I mean, the shit they were saying. Shawn, you'd have a fucking aneurysm. I have to go back to that. I mean, I never realized just how pro-Reversal and how ridiculous they all sounded."
"Yep," he sighs. "Let's go into that alley," he points.
The lights swirl around us once again, and I hold onto him for dear life. Who knows what could happen if we separate in time travel. He just holds his arm limp, though. I sense a coldness to him and a scowl. I'm not fooling around with him, and that's final. I really hope this doesn't interfere with--anything. I'm better than a quick fuck. I won't hesitate to reinforce that.
We return to his house, and I check the time. Still twenty minutes since I fled the scene.
"Umm, see--"
"See ya," he interjects.
I walk back down to leave. And opening the door, I'm met with a disappointed face.
"What the hell are you doing here?"