Chasing dreams

Chasing dreams

1

The alarm blared at 6 a.m. sharp, as it always did. But today felt different. Today carried purpose. Instead of slamming the power button, groaning, and retreating under the sheets like every other morning, Sophie Walker jolted upright. She silenced the alarm, let out a low groan, whispered a quick prayer, and swung her legs off the bed.

Heading straight for her music box, she cranked up High Vibe, Bad Lee by Shariya Wise until the walls trembled. The beat surged through her veins as she undressed, her voice rising with the lyrics: “High vibe, bad b***h. If I want it, I could have it. Embrace my inner alchemist, attract all things I manifest—oooh.”

Sophie tossed her hair, swinging her hips with wild abandon, her laughter mixing with the music as she danced her way into the bathroom. The shower roared to life, steam already filling the air, but she was too wrapped in the rhythm to notice the front door creak open.

“Girl, you rockin’ it like crazy in here! Yeah—high vibe, bad b***h—woohoo!”

Rihanna’s voice cut through the chorus, playful and full of mischief. Sophie didn’t even need to look to know her best friend had joined in. Rihanna’s signature move—whining and twerking without missing a beat—was already on full display.

And together, the morning turned into their own private concert.

Suddenly, icy water crashed against Sophie’s skin, making her yelp. She shrieked, fumbling with the knob before finally shutting off the shower.

“Ugh! Why did this have to happen this morning of all mornings?” she groaned, clutching her hair as though only just realizing she was mid-wash. “I’m not even done washing my hair!”

Moments later, she stumbled out of the bathroom, dripping wet, shivering so hard her teeth chattered. Rihanna immediately turned down the music, her eyes narrowing as she watched her best friend quake like a leaf.

“Oh, please,” Rihanna said, suspicion lacing her voice. “Don’t tell me your heater is faulty again.”

She glanced past Sophie toward the bathroom as though it were some cursed place, her expression twisted in equal parts dread and disbelief.

“I won’t then,” Sophie muttered, her words muffled by the violent clacking of her teeth as she hurried into her clothes.

Rihanna flopped onto the bed with a heavy sigh, tugging the blanket halfway up her legs while scrolling lazily through her phone. “Oh, s**t. That job better be paying high, because you’ve got a lot to fix in this damn apartment.”

Sophie shot her a glare, tugging her shirt over her damp hair. “You’re not in any position to talk, you know… After all, you’re here to take your bath too. Probably because your heater’s broken as well.”

The room went quiet for a beat—

Rihanna scoffed, tossing Sophie a look.

“What the hell, girl? You got a job and it’s your first day at work. As your good, nice, best friend, I came here to congratulate and motivate you. And all you can do is make me feel bad?”

Sophie spun around, one brow arched. “How about you try crazy and tough? Because we both know good and nice ain’t qualities of yours.”

“Come on, girl,” Sophie continued, jabbing a finger at her. “You showed up at 6:30 a.m. with that damn brown bag stuffed with your soap and toiletries. And don’t even get me started—you walked in wearing shorts and a bra top, looking all sweaty—”

“That’s because I decided to work out this morning,” Rihanna cut in quickly, raising her head from her phone. But her voice cracked, pitching higher than usual.

Sophie smirked knowingly.

“Oh, don’t give me that now,” Sophie said, eyes narrowing. “I know that voice. That false pitch is proof I’m right. And if you actually wanted to congratulate me or whatever, you would’ve just video-called instead.”

“Girl, chill. People change, you know.” Rihanna’s voice dropped back to normal, her eyes glued once again to her screen.

Sophie rolled her eyes as she dabbed on her foundation. “Not you, obviously. You wouldn’t even change into a nice person if you had the chance. The last time you declared some ‘new you,’ you came back even crazier. Damn girl… you know I know you too well.”

“You know too much,” Rihanna mumbled, barely looking up. “Too much for my own good.”

Sophie smirked as she slicked on nude lipstick—the finishing touch to her minimal makeup. She turned toward Rihanna with a mock flourish. “Anyways… how do I look?”

Sophie turned to the mirror, her reflection staring back at her with expectant eyes. She could handle a lot, but if there was one thing Rihanna excelled at, it was judging looks and outfits. The girl had an instinct for fashion that could slice sharper than a blade. Which was exactly why Sophie’s stomach twisted into knots the moment Rihanna finally lifted her gaze from her phone and fixed it on her.

Sophie held her breath. She couldn’t afford to start dressing all over again, not today. Not when her first day at work already carried the weight of perfection. If Rihanna deemed her outfit a disaster, there would be no choice but to rip it all off and start fresh.

“Come on!” Sophie blurted, her nerves spilling out. “Why aren’t you saying anything? My dressing isn’t even going to matter if I get fired straight away for being late! And why are you looking at me like that? You’re making me more nervous.”

She stomped her foot, exasperated.

Rihanna smirked. “Get used to it, girl. That’s the first look you’ll get—like they’re trying to sum you up in one glance. And don’t you dare give away your nervousness. First impressions, remember? That smile on your face has more plot twists than a Netflix series.”

Sophie sighed heavily, shoulders sagging. “Okay, fine. So how do I look?”

Rihanna leaned back, finally letting a grin slip. “Girl, my fashion sense is finally rubbing off on you. Or maybe you finally gave up your alien series. Either way—you look cute.” She held up the perfect sign with her fingers.

“Cute?” Sophie groaned, scrunching her face. “I am not going for cute.".

“I knew what you were going for, trust me, girl… and this dressing is exactly what you need,” Rihanna said, her smirk softening into something almost approving. “Though, you could use a little more blush. You need that rosy glow.”

Sophie let out a long breath she hadn’t even realized she was holding. With careful strokes, she dusted blush across her cheeks, then leaned closer to the mirror. Her reflection beamed back at her, brighter now—maybe because Rihanna had called it perfect, maybe because she finally believed it herself.

She looked effortlessly chic: a white oversized cropped tee tucked into high-waisted, faded mom jeans; soft blush sneakers tying the look together. A dainty gold heart pendant glimmered at her collarbone, while a button bun—slightly too thick—was framed by loose tendrils that highlighted her glowing cheeks. Coral blush, glossy lips, and softly brushed brows gave her a polished but natural finish.

“If you want to keep that smile on your face today,” Rihanna teased, sliding back into her playful tone, “I suggest you move your ass along now. Time ain’t waiting for no smiling fool.”

Sophie shot her a deadly glare but didn’t dignify it with words. She grabbed her bag and marched toward the door.

Rihanna burst into laughter, calling after her, “I might have to leave soon! I’ll go take my bath at Calvin’s!”

Sophie shook her head, already outside, knowing full well her best friend was bluffing as usual. She was probably going to meet her as she was before she left home. Hailing a taxi, she pictured Rihanna sprawled across her bed exactly the way she always did—like she owned the place.

---

Hardin Stiles woke at exactly 5 a.m., even after taking sleeping pills the night before. He exhaled heavily, pressing his fingers to his temple. Without the pills, he probably wouldn’t have slept at all. His grandmother’s face flickered in his mind—sharp, uninvited—but he shrugged it off with a muttered curse and swung his legs off the bed. The bathroom mirror greeted him with hollow eyes as he freshened up. Moments later, he stepped into the living room, the cold, wide emptiness of it pressing around him. It would’ve been different if Phoebe were here. His tiny sister had a way of filling every inch of space, as if her energy spilled into the walls. Half the room would’ve been covered in clothes and crumbs by now. He shook his head at the thought—then his phone buzzed.

'Hey, you miss me?'

He picked up his coffee and took a slow sip, almost smiling.

"Speak of the devil" he muttered

It was like she’d plucked the thought straight from his head. Another message blinked in.

'I can see your icon that says you’re there. Why aren’t you replying?'

Hardin sighed, sucking his teeth as he thumbed a reply. 'Wondering if that’s a question or just a confirmation of your illusion.'

Seconds later: 'You are so cruel, you know. 'How can you breathe without calling your only sister for so long?'

Hardin could practically see her pout. He tilted his head, setting down his mug.' I called you on Friday.'

'Well, it’s Monday today. Duh.'

Hardin smirked faintly. 'Oh really? I didn’t think you knew that. But since you do, don’t you think it’s too early for this?'

A teary emoji popped up on his screen'. Poor me'. It shifted into a fierce one.' It’s not like you even have a girlfriend.'

'I have work at least', he shot back.

'When are you coming to see me?'

His fingers hovered over the keyboard, then he typed simply:' Soon.'

'I hope that soon comes soon, okay?'

Hardin stared at the last message, the coffee cooling in his hands, his apartment still as empty as ever.

'Okay, bye, my workaholic brother. Expecting you soon'. Phoebe’s last message flashed across the screen.

Hardin made a quick mental note of which part of his schedule he could clear to visit her at school. The thought lingered only a moment before his phone buzzed again—this time, a call from an unknown number.

He hesitated, thumb hovering, then finally answered. The device had barely touched his ear when his assistant’s voice came roaring through the speaker.

“Hey! Where the hell are you? The company ain’t moving nowhere if you don’t move your arse from that damn coven of yours, you know!”

Hardin winced, clapping a hand over his mouth as though to shield himself from Stephen’s volume. Without a word, he hung up, heart jolting into urgency.

In seconds, he was sprinting back to his room. Clothes on, tie pulled tight, shoes shoved on in a rush—then he was out the door, his morning silence swallowed whole by the chaos that awaited.