“Does my hair look okay?”

It’s Saturday, and Elena is supposed to be here in about five minutes, and I’m facetiming Sarai, all the while fixing my hair and makeup.

“This is literally the thousandth time you’ve asked me this over the span of five minutes,” Sarai groans, pinching the bridge of her nose.

“Just answer the question!”

Sarai sighs. “Yes. Stop playing with your hair, or you’ll ruin it.”

I stop fiddling with my hair and instead turn my attention to my outfit. “Does this look okay? Do I look too emo or grunge-y?”

“Adelia!” Sarai snaps. “Stop worrying about your appearance. I assure you, you look fine!”

“You sure?”

“If you really don’t believe me, why are you even asking me for advice?” Sarai questions, munching on a piece of popcorn.

“I just want to make sure I look good,” I reply, looking down at the bathroom floor. It was dirty this morning, with hair and stuff, but I actually cleaned for once. Hell, I cleaned up the whole house.

“Why are you so worried? Do you like Elena?”

At an instant heat crawls across my skin, turning me into a bright pink. “No! I just want to make these first few hangouts good. I want to make a good impression. I don’t want her to drop me like the others did.”

“Adelia,” Sarai begins, but just as she does, the doorbell rings.

“Sorry! That’s Elena. I have to go,” I say quickly, and I hang up in the middle of Sarai’s goodbye.

Thundering down the stairs, I unlatch the chain on the door and twist the lock, pulling the door open.

Looking Elena up and down, she looks super cute. She’s wearing this baby pink cardigan with white flowers, and a white lace top underneath with some light-washed jean shorts. And her signature air forces. 

“Hey,” I say.

“Hi,” Elena replies quietly, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

“Come in,” I speak quickly, stepping aside to let her in.

“You look pretty. You like stars, don’t you?” Elena asks, pointing to my star-studded tights while slipping off her shoes.

“Yeah. I’m obsessed with them,” I admit.

“Cool! I like stars too, but flowers and butterflies are more my thing.” “Yeah, I’ve noticed. You wear plenty of floral stuff.”

We stand in awkward silence for a few moments until I ask if Elena wants to go up to my room.

“Sure!”

Closing the front door, I lead Elena upstairs and through the short hallway into my room.

“Nice room,” Elena states, looking around.

“You seriously think so? Doesn’t this conflict with what you like?” I motion at all my dark decorations and posters of skulls and bands. It’s not as..soft…as Elena is, if you will.

“I mean, that’s one way to look at it. The way I like to look at it is that it’s beautiful in its own way, though I’d personally never want my aesthetic to be this one. I still think it’s cool. It really shows your personality and interests, which I like. My room is boring.”

“Nah, I’m sure it’s not,” I reply, chuckling.

“Trust me, it is boring. Come around to mine sometime and you’ll see.”

Elena plops down on my bed and examines the posters hanging above the headboard of my bed. “Nirvana, huh? And Arctic Monkeys?”

“Yup.”

“I’ve heard a handful of songs by these bands. It’s not my style of music, but I like it. Their songs make you feel alive. The music I listen to is very relaxing–not a bad thing–but it can sometimes be too relaxing.”

“Mmm,” I murmur, plopping on the bed next to her.

“Sooo,” Elena draws out after a few moments of silence. “What do you want to do?”

“Uhh, I don’t know,” I admit, scratching my neck. What the hell? Why would you invite her if your house is boring? What’s wrong with you, moron?

Elena notices my electric guitar hanging on the wall for the first time. “Ooh! You play electric guitar?”

“Yeah,” I say shyly, tucking my hair behind my ear. God. I’m picking up her personality and habits.

“Can you play something for me?”

It’s then that I begin to blush. But also, bad memories rush back to me like a river being set loose after a beaver’s dam is broken.

Emily. In my room. The day I asked her to be my girlfriend, and the first time she came to my house. She asked me the same question.

“Are you alright?” Elena questions, furrowing her brows, looking concerned.

“Oh, yeah. I was…just thinking about what song to play you. What do you listen to? Maybe I know a song by an artist you listen to.”

“Hmm,” Elena considers, tapping her chin. “I mean, I listen to Clairo. And Beabadoobee. And Conan Gray. And Girl in Red.” She grimaces. “I don’t think any of their songs really use electric guitar…other than Sofia by Clairo.” Elena turns towards me. “Do you know how to play that one?”

“Of course!” I exclaim, jumping off the bed and grabbing my guitar from the wall, and a pick. “I’m a lesbian. How could I not know how to play that song? It’s a widely-known queer song!”

I skip tuning my guitar, partially because I’m far too impatient to show Elena my skills, and partially because I’d just been playing an hour ago.

As soon as I plug the guitar into the amp, I begin the song, and play through all of it with all my heart and passion. I’m playing like someone would play if they were on stage. I mean, in a way, I am; I do have an audience member, after all.

Throughout my playing, Elena seems so invested, bopping her head along to the beat, her face lighting up when I got to the riff. She hums along, too afraid to sing, but I don’t understand why she’s afraid; this might sound weird, but she hums in a pretty tune, on-key, so I’m convinced she could sing. Once I’m done, Elena claps and squeals, beaming her beautiful smile at me, her cheeks a slight rose color. “Wow! That was great!” she exclaims. “Do you play in a band?”

“Nah. Never was that interested in playing with a band; I value my alone time.”

“Fair enough.”

“Want me to play another song?”

“Yes! You pick this time.”

I end up picking Stairway to Heaven. I recently perfected this song, having spent months, each day pouring my heart out into hours, of playing and learning and, eventually, mastering this song,

Elena recognizes the song as soon as I pick the first few strings. “Stairway to Heaven, huh?”

I nod.

“My parents love that song. I grew up listening to it.”

“Sing along then!”

Elena shakes her head, tucking in her chin, embarrassed. “I can’t sing.”

“I’m sure you can.”

She doesn’t reply. This time, she remains silent throughout my playing, though she does close her eyes and sway to the music, like she’s listening to some calming music, when she’s actually listening to rock. At least she seems to be into it.

“You’re amazing at guitar,” Elena breathes a few moments after I finish playing. “How long have you been playing for?”

“Hmm.” I cock my head to the side, considering. “About four years? But I spend hours a day playing. That’s how I got really good.”

“But you’ve also been playing for a long time,” Elena points out.

I shrug. “Yeah, I guess.”

An idea pops into my mind.

Elena recognizes the look on my face immediately, raising a brow in suspicion.

“What if,” I begin, putting my guitar down on the bed. “I tried teaching you how to play?

Elena’s eyes widen. “Uh, no. Nope. No, no, no. Not doing that.”

“Come on,” I whine. After some more whining and convincing, Elena finally has the guitar in her hands. Surprisingly, she knows exactly how to hold it.

“Are you sure you’ve never played before?” I tease.

“What? Why? Am I even holding this thing correctly?”

“Yeah, that’s the exact reason why I’m asking.”

“Well, I mean, I do play ukulele.”

Wow. What doesn’t she do? I smile at Elena. “That’s cool! When did you start learning?”

“During the pandemic. I literally had nothing to do, so after looking at some easy hobbies to pick up, I decided on ukulele. I love playing.”

“I’d love to hear you play!”

“Stop by my place then. This is just another reason as to why you need to come over to my house.”

I giggle. Is she flirting with me? “Okay, sure.”

Putting aside our conversation, I immediately get to work on teaching Elena the basics of electric guitar. 

First, I show her some basic chords–mainly power chords–and I had her hold their shape, and after she got used to that, I had her switch between playing the chords. 

At first, she doesn’t sound too good, but after some trial and error and encouragement, she gets the hang of it.

So the next thing I teach Elena is a basic riff, using the chords she just practiced, putting it all together. She ended up sounding so good that I convinced her to let me record and post a video of her playing on Instagram. She genuinely sounds great, especially for a beginner. And that’s coming from someone who is really experienced in playing electric guitar.

Just as we are wrapping up, I hear the front door open. “Adelia, I’m home.” Mom.

“Hi,” I holler loud enough so she can hear me from all the way downstairs.

“I picked up the pizza. Are you girls coming down to eat now?”

Elena and I look at each other, confused. Where’d all the time go?

Looking down at my phone, it reads “4:30.” Elena got here at 2:00. We’d spent two hours on the electric guitar.

“Uh, yeah,” I shouted back.

Looking at Elena, I say, “Let’s go downstairs.”

As soon as we enter the kitchen, the greasy, home-like smell of the pepperoni pizza fills my nostrils, making my stomach grumble. It grumbles loud enough that Elena can hear it, and she laughs under her breath. I like her laugh; it reminds me of how the blue birds sigh.

Serving both of us, I head over to the counter, where there are two chairs, and we both slide into them.

“So,” I begin, folding my pizza like a taco and taking a bite. “What was life like in Romania?”

Elena takes a large bite out of her steaming-hot slice of pepperoni pizza. “Back in Romania, things are quite different.

“A good amount of people there are religious and conservative, so it felt a bit weird living there, since I fall into neither of those boxes.

“Sure, like I do believe in God, but I’m not religious, nor am I conservative. I guess I felt sort of out of place, in a way. I guess that’s what I’ve been enjoying about America so far: not feeling out of place based on my beliefs and values.

“Still, back in Romania, I had many friends. I guess you could’ve called me popular,” Elena titters. “But when my father got a job offer in the States, and it had decent pay…everything changed, My whole life did a complete one eighty.

“Saying goodbye to my friends and family that I still have there was the hardest part. I get homesick very easily, so these past few weeks have been quite stressful for me. Sure, I do get to call my friends and family almost every day, but it can be difficult with the different time zones and schedules and…basically, I’m just homesick.”

“But you have me. And Sarai. And Mari,” I whisper, unintentionally reaching out for Elena’s hand. Surprisingly, she takes it.

“Yeah, I know. But I just met you guys, and it’s not like I can replace the people I know back at home,” Elena sighs. “But you guys do help me through it. You really do, And hangouts like these really brighten my day and take my mind off being homesick, so thank you so much for inviting me.”

Elena’s phone vibrates. A notification.

Wiping her hands with a napkin, she pulls out the phone from her pocket, and instantly frowns.

“What is it?”

“My mom will be here in five minutes. She said something came up, and she has to come earlier.”

“Oh.”

We finish eating rather quickly then, and just when we’re done washing the plates, the doorbell rings.

“That must be my mom,” Elena says as she heads towards the front door to put her shoes on.

Opening the door, Elena steps out, and retreats to her mother’s side, standing right next to her.

They’re about the same height, around five foot four, both with the same striking reddish-brown hair, except Elena’s mom’s hair has a slight wave to it. Her eyes are also a hazel, whereas Elena’s eyes are a light chocolate brown.

“Hi,” Elena’s mom says, putting her hand out to shake my hand.

“Hi,” I reply.

“You’re Adelia, aren’t you? Thank you so much for inviting Elena over; she’s been needing to get out of the house.”

“Of course!” I respond. “We had a great time. She’s welcome to come back any time!”

“Perfect! You’re also free to come to our house at some point, if you’d like. We can organize that.”

“Sure.”

“Well, we do have to go now. I’m sorry I cut your guys’ hangout prematurely; something came up. Goodbye!”

“It’s okay!” I reply. “Bye!”

“Bye Adelia,” Elena utters, waving at me. I wave back.

And with that, the two depart.