My phone rang, pulling me from my reminiscent dream. Not my usual alarm, but my custom ringtone blared, making me squint at the screen. Eric’s name glowed there, a first at this hour. Anxiety pricked at me. Why would he call before the sun was up?

“Hey… Sorry if I woke you, but… do you think you could give me a ride? Turns out a car can have sick days.”

His usually energetic voice sounded strangely quiet, and I wondered if it was just morning grogginess or something more. My gaze drifted to the clock above my dresser: still a few more hours until work. I sighed, sinking my head back into the pillow, my body pleading for a few more minutes of rest. He called my name again, and the fog in my brain cleared enough for the situation to fully register.

“A-ah, yeah, sorry. Send me your address. I’ll be on my way in about an hour or two…”

“Thank you so much. I’ll treat you to breakfast before work to pay you back.”

“Okay, I’d love that.”

I ended the call with a groan. My alarm clock seemed to have vacationed all week, and my body absolutely disliked the string of early mornings. The ding of Eric’s text message finally urged me to open my eyes. With a sigh, I forced myself out of bed and started my morning routine.

An hour later, I was navigating a neighborhood paved with luxury. Normally, the sheer scale of these houses, dwarfing my own into a modest apartment, would’ve left me gaping, but the morning fatigue had narrowed my focus to one thing: my destination. I pulled up to Eric’s curb, killed the GPS, and shot him a quick text. 

Minutes ticked by with no reply. He should’ve been ready by now, and my patience was wearing thin. My daily Caramel Macchiato was at stake. Impatiently, I jumped out of the car. A few solid knocks on the imposing door, followed by a chime of the doorbell, and then it swung open. 

Standing there was a slim, black-haired woman, about my height. Her hazel eyes scanned me slowly, and her mouth curled into a frown. 

“How could such a pleasant neighborhood still have solicitors? And this early in the morning,” she said, her tone sharp.

Before I could respond, she laid a delicate hand on the door, preparing to shut it.

The door clicked with finality, and a wave of bewilderment hit me. Did I have the wrong house? I glanced down at the address on my phone and then at the house number; everything checked out.

“What the hell…?” I whispered, annoyance bubbling up from my exhaustion.

I rang the doorbell again. Moments later, the woman reappeared, this time flinging the door open with clear displeasure.

“Did you not get it the first time I answered? No. Soliciting. Don’t you know the person who lives here is a detective? I’ll have you arrested if you don’t get off our property.” 

She shut the door again, but I caught it gently with my hand.

“Actually, I’m Eric’s coworker,” I explained quickly. “He asked for a ride since his car’s having issues this morning.”

The door froze. She scanned me again, head to toe, before her voice sliced through the silence.

“Coworker?” Her eyes narrowed. “I guess standards have lowered these days…” she muttered, shaking her head in blatant disapproval. Then, without another word, she spun around and called for him.

I stood frozen. What do you even say to rudeness like that? Do I fire back, or just wait for Eric? My eyes found my reflection in the window, my plain clothes staring back at me. Maybe I look plain. But does it matter? They’re just clothes, right?

Before I could dive deeper into self-analysis, Eric came clattering down the stairs. He fumbled with his suit jacket, and his crooked tie clearly showed he had lost track of time.

I glanced back at the woman who was returning to the entrance. She approached Eric, adjusting his tie and fixing his hair, a gesture he endured with obvious discomfort. I couldn’t help but wonder if my presence was the source of this tension. He turned to me, offering his usual polite smile, just as the woman delivered her cutting remark. 

“Next time, make sure she waits in the car… I don’t want the neighbors to think you’re dating her or something.”

“Wha-”

Eric’s hands landed on my shoulders, stopping me mid-word. He gave me a slight nod before turning his icy gaze on the woman. His expression darkened as his eyebrows drew together.

“This is my house, Melissa. I can have whoever I want here. I don’t give a damn what you do anywhere else, but not here. You’re allowed to visit me not because I want to see you, but because if I don’t let you in, you’ll run to that man and cry like the little brat that you are.”

His words hit like a shock wave. It was the harshest I’d ever heard from him, and a swirl of conflicting emotions churned within me. Part of me swelled with gratitude; he’d defended me again, as he had before. But another part felt the stark truth: time had left many mysteries between us. There were things I still didn’t know about him, sides I hadn’t yet seen.

Melissa’s face twisted with anger, her eyes shining with restrained tears. She crossed her arms like a scolded child, glared at us both, and waited. Eric didn’t flinch.

“I want you gone, before I get back from work. Understand?”

She didn’t answer. Her furious gaze flicked between us before she stomped away toward the back of the house.

“Hey… sorry ‘bout that,” he started. “My sister is a bit of a—”

I shook my head. 

“You don’t have to apologize. You did nothing wrong. Let’s just forget it.”

Still, the revelation threw me. They were siblings? The matching black hair, the taller-than-average height, the facial features suddenly fell into place, but their personalities were night and day. My hands rested on the car door handle as I glanced up. He was watching me closely from the passenger side, worry etched into his expression.

“Let’s just go get some breakfast,” I said, forcing a playful tone. “And you can buy my coffee for the rest of the week. Then we’re good.”

I stuck out my tongue as I slid into the driver’s seat. He let out a quiet laugh, relief softening his posture as he buckled in. I pulled away from the curb, merging back into traffic, legally of course, right on schedule for breakfast.

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Art: Petra Eggert