The Ad

Dakota sat cross-legged on her unmade bed, laptop balanced on a pillow that had lost its fight with gravity months ago. The room was barely bigger than a generous closet—string lights she'd thumbtacked up to hide the water stain on the ceiling, a mini-fridge humming like an angry stomach, and the thin wall behind her head currently vibrating with whatever bass-heavy track her roommate was using to avoid adulting.

Rent. Again.

She scrolled the job board with one hand, the other rubbing at the tension between her eyebrows. Barista. Dog walker. Teeth-whitening brand ambassador. All of them paid like shit or required a smile she didn't have anymore. The little red numbers in her banking app kept blinking at her like an accusation. She was tired of math. Tired of stretching every dollar until it screamed.

Then the ad appeared.

Dakota's thumb paused on the trackpad. Competitive pay. Those two words hit different when your share of the utilities was due in nine days and your agent hadn't called in three weeks. She clicked through. Read it twice. Then opened a new message and started typing.

First try:

She stared at it, snorted, and hit delete.

Second try:

Still too stiff. Delete.

Third try—she punched it up, letting a little of her actual personality bleed through:

She attached her resume, stared at the whole thing for three long seconds, muttered "fuck it," and hit enter.

Dakota stepped into the hallway, keys in hand. She was halfway to the front door when Jess's voice drifted out from the kitchen.

"Hey, Dakota! Hold up a sec."

Jess appeared in the doorway, mug in hand, wearing that bright, hopeful smile she always did.

"I bumped into Lauren at the gas station yesterday," Jess said cheerfully. "She said to say hi. I think there's still a spark there, you know?"

Jess had been the one to introduce them, and she'd never fully gotten over the breakup.

Dakota managed a pleasant smile.

Jess nodded like this was encouraging news. "Oh, rent's due in like nine days, by the way. Just a reminder. We're all a little short this month."

"Got it. Thanks, Jess." Dakota kept the smile as she edged toward the door. "I'm just running to the store real quick. Catch you later."

The walk to the store was short. She gathered a few things and scanned them at the self-checkout. The total popped up. She tapped her phone.

Declined.

Dakota looked over her meager collection of groceries. A couple things of spaghetti, a jar of sauce, her tampons, and her beloved Rocky Road that she'd grabbed on impulse after it sat there glossy and perfect in the freezer case. It was on sale, practically calling to her. A cramp built low in her stomach, sudden and insistent. It made the decision for her, even if it didn't make it any easier. Dakota pulled the Rocky Road out of the bag, held it up, and caught the attention of the nearest attendant.

"Hey, I've decided I'm not getting this after all," she said, voice light. "Didn't want to just leave it sitting here melting."

The attendant nodded, took the carton without comment, and Dakota finished the transaction with the rest. She bagged it herself and walked out into the afternoon light with exactly what she could afford.

Dakota woke up to her phone buzzing like an angry hornet on the nightstand. She groaned, grabbed it, and headed straight for the bathroom. While she brushed her teeth with one hand, she squinted at the phone in her other hand.

An email. From the studio.

It was 9:05.

"Shit."

She spat, rinsed, and bolted back to her room. Her hair was a disaster — wavy dark strands sticking out in every direction. She ran a brush through it, wincing at the tangles, debating whether to leave it down or try to look put-together. Fuck it. She twisted it into a messy bun, securing it with the hair tie on her wrist.

The jeans were next. Her favorite black pair. She wriggled into them, the struggle made all the more difficult because of the bloating that always hit right before her period. She paired them with the soft gray sweater that passed the sniff test, pulled on her scuffed up boots, grabbed her bag, and bolted out the door.

In the Uber her leg bounced nonstop as she quickly swiped on some light mascara and a touch of lip gloss. "Any chance we can go a little faster? This is really important." Somewhere between the apartment and the studio she went from bouncing her leg to crossing them. Then crossing them the other way.

Of course.

Of fucking course.

She was in such a hurry, she completely forgot to pee.