Strictly Behind the Scenes

ChapterThree

The sound of the bell rang through the whole building, followed by thousands of footsteps filling themselves into different rooms.

Some perky with a rainbow practically glued to their forehead, others sporting eyebags so deep they could contain a load of groceries.

“Elle?, Elle.”

“I can hear you,” Elle grumbled into her shoulders, her voice vibrating along the table.

“Don't make me smack you awake, we have work to do.”

Elle stretches her arm out while still sprawled on the desk, unintentionally brushing away the books and patterns they had to work with.

“I know, I know,” she pushes herself off the desk, her knuckles drawing circles on her eyelids. “Got home by past 12 yesterday, I just need some shut-eye.”

Elle fully reclined in her wooden chair, the bright light from the window instinctively made her squeeze her eyes shut, her hands hanging in the air at her sides.

The classroom was filled, every one lightly chattering with whomever they were paired with.

Their professor had stepped out, said she wanted them to “reinvent fashion” and Elle had decided to capitalize on this opportunity to catch up with her sleep.

“This job is really weighing on you.”

“Right? But that’s what jobs do, Sage. They suck up your will to live.”

“Yours is straight up sucking your life,” Sage’s hands stretch across the table, landing softly over hers, her voice delicate “You can always get another.”

Elle’s neck snaps in her direction, "Another that will pay this well? We both know that's not happening. Plus….”

“Plus your boyfriend needs the money,” she interjects in an exhausted sigh, eyes rolling in their sockets.

Elle recognized the look her friend shot at her. A million unspoken words behind her tight-lipped frown, mean words, that she was sure of.

“Here we go again, that's not what I was about to say.”

“Sincerely, I don't want to know,” Sage pulls the pattern closer to herself, “Let's just concentrate on having at least the bustier done before Mrs Talie comes back.”

Elle released an exhausted sigh, hands massaging her temples as they pulsed against her fingertips, the effect of her lack of sleep slowly rearing its ugly head.

The aggressive buzz of the table draws her attention.

Noticing it came from her phone, she picked it up, her heart skipped a beat.

The events of the day before flooded her mind on seeing the caller’s name. Suddenly the room felt cold, she could feel goosebumps flood her skin.

With shaky hands, she pressed the ‘answer’ button.

“H.. Hey,” she whispered, eyes glued to the piece of fabric on the table. Ignoring the side glance, Sage shoots at her.

“I am in class right now,” she sat up straight, brows knitting together as the voice at the other end of the line spoke.

“I.. I understand, I’ll try,” her lips tipped downwards in a frown, “Sorry, I’ll be there in 20.”

She slowly placed the device on the table while she stared into the abyss.

“What's the matter?” Sage calls out, gently patting her shoulders. “You look pale.”

“Nothing, nothing, I just… I have an emergency.” She began shoving her books into her tote bag.

“Emergency? Is anybody hurt?”

“What? No, no, nobody's hurt, I just have to leave,” she doesn't spare Sage a glance as she continues to frantically pack up her belongings.

“Hey,” Elle pauses, “I know what this is about,” she met Sage’s eyes. They looked tired, like she was running on 2 hours of sleep, but much to Elle's surprise, she didn't look mad.

Sage took a deep breath and looked away, her attention back on the pattern she was measuring, “Just come tomorrow with a sketch for the skirt. Can't afford to flunk this class.”

Elle nodded, she couldn't trust her voice to not c***k. Guilt washed over her. She had been complaining about her job that she didn't realize how much more work Sage was taking on to cover up for her.

She resumed the packing and picked up her phone while slinging the bag over her shoulder. “Thanks Sage, I owe you.”

“Hell yeah you do,” seeing Sage's lips curled upwards made the guilt feel a bit less heavy. Months into their friendship and she still had a hard time reading her.

Upon entering the taxi, she turned her phone to show the driver the destination that lit up the screen, too tired to say it out loud.

The ride is quiet, the worst case scenario for her chaotic mind.

Sage was right, this job was eating her alive, but she wouldn't admit it, because doing that meant quitting, and she couldn't, not now, not when she was halfway through college.

Her eyes bounced around the unfamiliar building. “No 4 Elms street, this is it.”

The gust of cold breeze hits her as she pushes the glass door open, her sneakers squeaking against the marble flooring.

Her feet stopped moving, her mouth fell open slightly as the picturesque decor pulled her into a trance, her eyes dancing from one part of the interior to another.

The worried glances from the receptionist brought her back to reality. She was standing in the middle of the walkway and spinning around like a child in an amusement park.

With an apologetic smile, she approached the lady behind the counter, “Hi,” once again she unlocked her phone and showed it to the lady.

“That is apartment D2, fifth door to your left on the third floor.”

“Thank you,” the lady responds with a curt nod and a flash of her pearly whites, which Elle reciprocates before making her way to the elevator.

Upon locating the room, Elle rings the doorbell before cracking the door open, and she finds herself moping around once more in the extravagant room.

“It's pretty right?”

Elle's ears perked up at the voice, that wasn't Michael.

She spun on her heels, eyes darting around to see who it was and simultaneously unlocking her phone.

The stranger finally falls into her line of view. She stops fiddling with her phone as her bag slides off.

her shoulder.

Tilting her head to the side, she scrunched her brows.

“I'm sorry, who are you?”