Page 1 of Our Little Dove

Zoning out in front of my computer screen has been my favorite part of my job for months. The monotony of it all kills the vibrance of my soul daily, and the realization dawns on me.

“This is not what I had in mind,"I mutter to myself as I stare at the lines of code.

Daydreaming about some not-so-ordinary sexual fantasies and encounters might be a little over the top, but I have been single too long to care, and my ex was boring as fuck.

Coding, hacking, and web design are supposed to be fun and exciting. I guess I can’t complain too much since I work from home and get a decent paycheck.

My phone rings, and I answer the call without hesitation when I see Molly’s name flash on the screen. She mentioned wanting me to stay over at her place tonight when we last spoke, but she hasn’t confirmed yet since we both have work tomorrow. Lucky for me, I can work anywhere as long as I have my laptop.

Holding the phone a few inches from my ear, I am already expecting loud squeals from my best friend.

“Girl, tonight we're getting drunk!” Molly sings in her signature bubbly tone. I push my chair back, amused by heridea of getting drunk on a Thursday night, and hurry over to my bedroom, already feeling the excitement wash over me.

Am I irresponsible for not suggesting we move Girls' Night to this weekend? Yes.

Do I need to escape and have a good time sooner rather than later? Also, yes.

“Can’t wait! I’m packing as we speak. Do you need me to bring anything?” I ask, grabbing some clothes and stuffing them into my overnight bag.

“Nope, I got the booze, and I will order the pizza as soon as you get your ass to my place,” she hums. Girl’s night with my bestie has been long overdue.

We have been best friends since we met at my cousin’s nightclub a year ago. We were at the Hell’s Playground launch party, and it was an amazing night, although I don’t remember half of it. I blame Joel and his half-price shots.

Joel knows how to make people have an enjoyable time. He has an elusive, cocky personality, but he has always been the life of the party, which is probably why Molly had a crush on him when I introduced them at his club’s opening.

I smile at the thoughts of that night as I finish packing and head out to my car after ending the call. She wants me there at six, and it’s already five thirty-eight. If I don’t leave now, I’ll hear her usual “you’re late” speech again.

Traffic was hell on the way here.

A soft chuckle escapes as I glance at my phone's time. I know all too well what's in store. With my bag slung over my shoulder,I stroll to Molly's apartment. Just as I lift my hand to knock, she flings the door wide open.

“Took you long enough!” she hisses sarcastically as she pulls me inside with an unmistakably evil smile and slams the door shut behind us.

“Whoa! I’m only like ten minutes late, M. The traffic is fucking terrible on the way to your place. Tell me again why you moved to an apartment in the middle of the city?” I laugh as I toss my bag onto the chair beside the tiny kitchen island.

“Hey, not everyone dreams about living in the suburbs,” she giggles and shakes her head, strands of amber hair falling from her messy bun as she steps closer to hug me tightly.

How does her hair still look good in the messiest bun ever?

Molly has the most beautiful hair, which is not surprising since she is a hairdresser. This woman can do magic with a pair of scissors and a bowl of color.

I watch her as she opens the fridge and grabs the ice-cold bottle of tequila while twirling a strand of my hair in my fingers.

Hair jealousy is real right now…

My hair is a chocolaty brown, and I recently bleached my face-framing layers to a white-blonde shade. I think it suits my personality.

“Hey, Earth to Alex! Are you listening to me?” Molly yells from the living room as she places two shot glasses on the coffee table, already filled to the brim with tequila.

“Fuck, sorry. What were you saying? I was thinking about work stuff,” I lie, rubbing the back of my neck and flashing her a smile.

She rolls her baby-blue eyes with an exaggerated sigh. “Never mind. Here, drink and stop thinking about work.” She holds out the tiny glass and waits as I approach the couch. I plop down next to her and take the glass.

“Yes, ma’am,” I joke as I look into her serious eyes before lifting it and swallowing the entirety.

A rush of warmth spreads through my body from the tequila. We go through two more shots and then decide to move on to beer as we sink deeper into the couch. Our laughter fills the apartment, and conversation flows like liquid from our lips.

We listen to music, singing and dancing to the songs without a care in the world until Molly looks at me with a mischievous smirk and announces that she wants to make homemade cocktails with whatever is in her fridge.

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