The Perfect Date

Scarlett’s POV

Summer was coming, and the thought of finally enjoying the beach, seeing my friends in Miami, and living the life I love excited me to no end. I walked into the kitchen and left my suitcases near the living room furniture.

I lived with my best friend Olive, a short, wide-waisted girl with black eyes and short hair. She was Asian, and we met on the first day of college. It was funny, but English wasn’t her strong point. She had spent half of her life in Latin America and the other half in Asia, never learned English, and had difficulty communicating in Los Angeles.

She was running late, as usual, and I saw her standing in a corner, looking around. I quickly realized that she didn’t speak the language and tried speaking to her in Spanish, which she understood. I guided her, and we ended up becoming best friends.

Olive was sitting on the couch, wearing a casual dress and black boots. She was looking at her phone until she noticed my presence and looked up.

“Your mother changed the travel plans and sent us the new tickets this afternoon,” she said.

“What?” I opened my mouth in surprise. “I thought we were going to Miami. We always go there on vacation.”

“Not this year. Your mother thinks going to Vegas will be better, something new or some such nonsense,” she said.

“I’ll let the guys know that we’re not going on vacation,” I said.

“Tell them we changed our destination,” Olive said.

I looked at Olive and nodded.

When I started my independent life, it was hard for me to accept that I couldn’t call my mother if I had a problem. I had to start figuring things out on my own.

On the first day, I almost set the house on fire. I was cooking and put a piece of fabric on the stove. I thought it was turned off, I could have sworn it was, but it wasn’t. The stove started burning the fabric, and the smell filled the house. I locked myself in the bathroom and used soap to try to get rid of the smell. I managed to put out the fire, but taking a shower after that was a strange situation that I wouldn’t want to repeat.

I’m twenty years old, my mother is a chef, and my father plays golf. I’m an only child, and I like to have fun healthily, although Olive thinks I sometimes overdo it. She’s in love with books and dreams of having thousands of them. She’s read so many books that, in her head, the best thing that could happen is to have a library. In mine, it’s not. I’m the girl who believes in signs, likes to go out partying and do karaoke at five in the morning. It’s almost impossible to get bored with me.

I grabbed my suitcases excitedly, looking happier than usual. My parents wouldn’t be on vacation; they would arrive halfway through the month and spend a week with us. For them, that was family time. I’m not saying they don’t love me, they just have a strange way of showing it.

My face was defined, my eyes were blue, I had black hair with purple highlights and a normal body.

We got into the car, and I smiled at the driver.

“Can you speed up a bit?” Olive asked.

“This is the speed I usually go,” he replied.

“Bicycles are passing us,” she complained. “If you speed up a bit, I assure you no one will die.”

I chuckled and shrugged. “Sir, listen to my friend.”

He nodded and accelerated. We arrived at the airport, and the plane was about to leave. We ran with all our might and made it. Our breathing was labored, Olive’s laughter echoed throughout the plane’s section, and we sat down. I sat by the window, and she was beside me. We had brought our pillows. Being comfortable was more important than anything else.

I think about the books Olive collects with fervor. Her face changes when she touches the books. It becomes more serene, calmer, and more spirited. Usually, she is quite calm, doesn’t like vegetables, hates peas, and loves English songs. Olivia Rodrigo always plays from her room.

I used to think that she didn’t love her parents. Until I found out. Her parents were dead; she saw them die and never was the same again. Because of that, she tends to worry excessively. She takes care of me as if I were her daughter and keeps everything in order. Every day, every hour. I looked at her sleeping and shook my head. That little, evil mind needed a vacation urgently.

A notification came to my phone, and Olive’s head was on my shoulder, so I had a hard time looking at the phone. I tried not to wake her and opened the notification. It was from Steve, a friend from the residence. In his message, he wished me good luck and told me to download the new dating app that had come out. I looked at it, and it seemed silly to me. The icon was purple with a white heart and said, “Love comes from different places.”

Love only comes from two people with emotional connections, not from such a trinket. I decided not to respond. My best friend woke up and rubbed her left eye.

“I’m hungry,” she murmured sleepily.

“I am too. I have some chips in my bag. Do you want some?”

She nodded. I handed her the bag, and we started eating in silence.

“Steve sent me the link to a dating app. It sounded like a scam, so I didn’t download it,” I said.

“Steve is an idiot. Only a person with one neuron would believe those things are real. Love cannot arise like that. It’s complex,” Olive replied.

“I know, although you know that falling in love is not always good.”

“Come on, Scarlett. Just because you’ve never fallen in love doesn’t mean it’s not good.”

“Have you ever fallen in love?” I raised an eyebrow.

“Only once,” she put a chip in her mouth and refused to talk about the topic. She always ran away from things she didn’t like.