Just a friend

Liz is a friend and occasional wingwoman. You two met last fall at the gym you share and quickly fell into a comfortable pattern of friendly conversation and spotting. She’s a year older than you and used to complete at track and field back in college. She still takes her workouts seriously and has really helped you with your form as well. Her well toned body and bubbly personality have plenty of people mistaking her for a full time fitness influencer. But from 9-5 she’s actually in modest skirts and blazers checking the paperwork on real estate deals.

You did try to flirt with her at first but it never seemed to go anywhere. Instead you two have been enjoying a lot of platonic fun together. Sometimes you accompany each other on a public outing that could be called a date if either of you wanted to put that label on it. Other times it’s commiserating recent romantic failures over bottom shelf gin. Either way you both eventually go your separate ways or crash on the other one’s couch. It doesn’t hurt that her building is only a couple blocks from yours.

It isn’t unusual for Liz to reach out on a Friday night, so maybe your plans for the weekend are already decided. Though usually she’d text first to see what you’re up to. A phone call might mean she has something else on her mind.

Whatever it is, you’re ready to listen. You answer, “Hello?” in a warm but cautious tone.

“Hi Connor, have you made it home?” Her voice is kind and inviting. But it isn’t as relaxed as usual.

“Yes, I’m home. Just walked in the door a few minutes ago. The train was a crowded mess.” You turn around and sit on the end of your bed.

“That’s lame, but TGIF, right? I have to be quick but I need to ask you for a favour. And I wanted to ask before your calendar fills up. I know it’s last minute but are you free tomorrow afternoon? I need your help for about an hour.”

You think ahead to your completely open Saturday, “Yeah, I can probably free up an hour. You trying to set a new planking personal best?” you tease her.

“No, nothing like that!” she laughs in that relaxed way of hers. “It’s for a rehearsal.”

“Rehearsal?” That’s out of the ordinary. Liz has never been a performing arts kinda girl.

“Yes. I decided to try something completely new before I turn 25 so I signed up for this performance night and I trust your opinion so I want to do the routine in front of you and then get your feedback,” her words are tumbling out quickly. “Call it a quarter life crisis, or whatever.”

“I guess it’s cheaper than backpacking somewhere off the beaten path for six months.”

“Yeah, but hopefully still daring enough to be satisfying. Look, my ride is almost here and I’m literally running out the door. It would be one hour at my place for the next three Saturdays. Can you do this for me, Connor?”

You take a deep breath in as you consider whether or not to commit to helping her.