Day Fifty-Seven: It's Complicated

I last two days before the whole "not talking to each other again" finally gets to me...again. It's driving me crazy staying cooped up here while I hope to grab Elsa's attention for at least five minutes. But even when she's around, all I get is a smile and a "Hey" before she retreats back into her room. And it's frustrating as shit.

If someone told me three months ago that I would have gotten frustrated at my ex-girlfriend not talking to me, I'd punch them. And yet, that's what's happening now. The not talking part, not the punching part. If I punched Elsa, we'd probably get evicted the same day.

Not that I'd ever want to punch Elsa, even if she had it coming. That'd be like punching a puppy or a small child. Okay, well she's not a small child, I'm not a fucking pedophile-

How the fuck...where was I again?

Oh right, distractions.

The gym doesn't do much to get my mind off things, staying in my room definitely doesn't help, and my friends are either out of town or too busy with their families or jobs and other unimportant stuff. I'm on my own, and I hate it. Even more so because the one person I can talk to right now won't talk to me.

I mean sure, she's probably upset because I couldn't tell her what she meant to me, but how was I supposed to answer that? It's been two days of non-stop thinking about it and I still don't have a concrete answer. And now what, she's gonna hold that over my head? Well fine, if she doesn't wanna talk then I don't wanna be here.

For now, at least for the next few hours while she's also in the apartment.

So even though it's 2 in the afternoon on a Monday, I change into respectable clothes (i.e. putting on pants), walk out of Arendelle Towers, and head to the nearest bar.

Anna needs a drink.

Remember how I said that everything you could ever want is within walking distance from Arendelle Towers? Well, that's doubly true for bars.

It doesn't take me long to find a nice, quiet, generic-looking place to hole up in. I don't see a name anywhere on its wooden exterior, only a bright neon sign pointing to the entrance that says "BEER". For all I know, this could all be a trap set by some maniacal butcher to slice up lonely 20-somethings and harvest their organs. But I like my chances and go in anyway.

The door opens and a shotgun doesn't take my head off, so we're off to a good start. Just like I expected, there's not a lot of people here. There's a couple of guys in the back, the bartender, and someone sweeping the floors. I take a seat at the bar and order my drink. It's only beer for me, been that way since I was 16. Other alcoholic stuff tastes off to me, or maybe I'm too much of a pussy to try anything out a second time. Either way, I'm not trying to get drunk here, I'm just trying to pass the time. Beer's good for that, it's always been good to me. I pride myself on only getting blackout drunk once and then never again.

It was after I broke up with Elsa. I called my friend Kristoff because his girlfriend had recently dumped him too, and we got shitfaced at this bar out by the docks. The last thing I remember before blacking out was getting up on a table and chugging like my sixth drink of the night. Kristoff helped piece the rest of the night back together. Apparently I made out with some biker chick, threw up in like three trash cans, and almost jumped off a bridge.

That last part made me swear off getting that drunk ever again.

So this drink in my hand will be the only one I get for today, which means I'm gonna make it last. This whole thing with Elsa is a fucking rollercoaster: one day we're good, the next day I do something that sets her off, and then we're good again, and then she's sad again, and it gets so frustrating. It makes me wonder why the hell I thought this would be a good idea. I scroll through my emails and find the one I sent to Elsa about this competition. The email that started it all.

Hey, it's Anna. I'm not sure you even use this account anymore, I hope you do. I know it's been awhile and I don't do this whole talking with your ex thing, but I kinda need something.

There's this really stupid contest that Mr. Arendelle does once in a while where he wants to see if two exes can stand living with each other for a year. And if they can do that, they win $100,000. It's a batshit insane idea I know but I called about it anyway. And for some reason they want to interview us about it.

I know you're probably this big successful author now, and your family's fucking loaded, so you don't need the money but I do. So just...I know this is a lot to ask, but could you go to the interview? They sent me a link and all that so here it is: [LINK TO CONTEST PAGE]

If you don't want to, then that's fine. We can just chalk this up as another stupid Anna idea, but...yeah this is stupid. Why am I even asking you to do this?

Fuck it, look on the off chance that you decide to do this with me, I...I don't know, I promise I won't be a huge bitch to you and I'll try to make this work. If not, then I guess you can just move on with your life or whatever.

I don't know how to end this. Um...bye, I guess.

I think I failed on the whole "not being a bitch" thing.

I did try though, and I'm still trying. I just don't know what's gonna hurt her and what won't. It would have been so easy to just move on with my life and go from dead-end job to dead-end job till a rich heiress falls in love with me and I get half her money. But noooooo, I took the hard way and now I'm paying for it.

I didn't think this would be easy, but I didn't think it would be this hard too. I thought...honestly I don't know what I was thinking anymore. Hey, we've made it through two months and that has to count for something. At least I know her better than I did in the beginning...kind of.

Ugh, this is stupid. Why am I even here? I should just try and apologize, or get her to talk to me. She gave me her new number, all I gotta do is text her and ask if we can talk about Saturday. That's all I gotta do. I still have my phone in my hand, I just need to message her.

Just press on her name, and message her.

Just press on her name, Anna.

Just press on it.

Just…

Fuck, why can't I do it?!

"Ugh," I grunt as I put down my phone and bury my head in my arms. "Fuuuuuuuck my life."

"Rough day?"

Wait, what?

That sounds like a person. And judging by the closeness of the voice, they're probably talking to me. And judging by how they sound, they're probably attractive as hell. Begrudgingly, I poke my head out from my arm nest and turn towards the voice.

Yup, they're hot.

The bar's got two large, depressing windows that barely let in any light, and it's all shining on this goddess. She's got the fairest skin I've ever seen, striking violet-colored eyes, and long, dirty blonde hair that cascades down her shoulders- ah fuck, I do have a type. She's also got on this low-cut tank top and tattoos running down both her arms, the boldest one I see is a rose wrapped around her right forearm. It takes me a minute to register that this punk-rock angel asked me a question, luckily I have experience in the whole "talking to girls" department.

"More like a rough month," I respond with a laugh that sounds stupid in my head.

She responds with a laugh of her own, deep and rich like dark chocolate. What the fuck does that even mean, Anna? "I've been there before. Wanna talk about it?"

I rein myself in and take a drink before I blurt out a yes, I don't wanna sound too eager to talk to her. She might think I'm attracted to her or something. "That depends on how much time you've got."

"I'm at a bar at 2 in the afternoon on a Monday. How much time do you think I have?" She waves the bartender over to get a bottle of her own, and when she gets it she points it towards me. "Now what's up? Girl problems?"

I blink, "How'd you guess?"

"Well you're a girl, and you look like you've got problems. Ergo: girl problems." She chuckles to herself and takes a sip. This isn't fair, she's got a quick wit and laughs at her own jokes. Those are like numbers 6 and 7 on my "Top Ten Things That Make The Perfect Woman" list.

"Well you're right either way. I am a girl."

"Good to know," she says with a smirk.

"And I do also have girl problems."

"Interesting," She leans closer to me, resting her head on her knuckles that I just notice spell out the word "FUCK", I wonder what the other one spells out. "Do tell. I mean if you're up for it, obviously. After all, you just met me, and no sane person would ever trust me with their deepest, darkest secrets."

If that's supposed to be off-putting, it doesn't feel like it. In fact it just makes her more intriguing. "Well then I must be crazy because I want to," I say as the spirit of awkwardness that possessed me laughs without my permission. "It's not really a deep, dark secret though it's just...roommate problems. That's all."

Ick, I don't like the sound of that word: roommate. It's not like I'm lying, it's more like I'm not saying the whole truth. In fairness, I did just meet this mystery girl, and I'm not the kind of girl to tell her whole life story to complete strangers. Although, the way she's looking at me with those eyes that I could get lost in...it makes me want to. It's like I'm under some spell, like she's Medusa but instead of turning me into stone, she turns me into a puddle.

"Ah, I've been there before," she replies, "Let me guess. You have feelings for her, but she doesn't feel the same way, and now things are super awkward?"

I almost spit out my drink. Thankfully, I swallow it and cough out my lungs instead.

"Shit, you okay? Was I right?" She puts a hand on my back, and I pretend her fingers don't send a chill down my spine that I only feel in the bedroom. Yeesh Anna, why don't you just bend her over this bar and get it over with?

Once I recover and wipe off the gross beer residue on my lips, I shake my head. "No it's- bleugh- it's nothing like that. It's complicated, really complicated. I mean we used to date for a couple of years before we broke up."

"And you're still roommates?!"

"No, she became my roommate like two months ago."

She blinks, "I-I don't...not quite sure I understand the math here."

"Ugh, I told you it's complicated." And I don't think telling her that we're doing this for a contest isn't gonna make much sense to her either. Besides, the less people know that I'm gonna be thousands of dollars richer in a year (hopefully), the better. "There's a lot of shit that we left unresolved before the breakup that's coming up now, and I think if we don't learn how to work through it, it's gonna break us apart even more."

"Is that such a bad thing? I mean you guys broke up already, so it's not like you have to make this work again."

Oh buddy, you have no idea. I stifle a laugh and take another sip from my pathetically half-empty bottle, "Like I said, it's complicated. I...I need to make this work. I don't really have any other options right now."

"I feel like finding a new roommate is a pretty good option."

"Uh, not for me. At least not right now." How do I even explain this without going into too much detail?

"Um...okay."

I dig my hands through my hair and groan, "I know, this whole thing is stupid. I wish I didn't have to do this, but I do. So...ugh, I don't know what I need right now."

By this point, I wouldn't be surprised if she decided I'm a lost cause and left me to stir in my self-pity and complicated problems. But instead, I hear a bottle sliding over and clinking mine. "Sounds like you need another drink."

I look up, and she's got this smile on her face that I've seen on a lot of people before. Caring, supportive, even though she barely knows me, I feel like I can trust her. And she can trust me. Gosh, the last person that looked at me like this was...fuck, it was Elsa. And that should complicate things, that should make me feel weird and make my stomach do backflips or something. It should make me feel guilty that I'm spending time with this random, beautiful girl instead of trying to patch things up again with Elsa.

But it doesn't.

Her bottle's more full than mine, so I finish off the one I ordered first and grab the one she's holding out to me. She's already gotten another one of her own and is gesturing it towards me. I tap my bottle to hers as if to say we're done talking about our problems for now.

For now, we just drink and forget. Drink and distract.

"Thanks for this," I tell her once I've taken my sip.

"For what?"

"For talking to me. Helping me get my mind off shit."

She shrugs, "I didn't really do anything, but I'm not one to pass up praise. So you're very welcome, uh...shit, I never asked for your name, did I?"

I laugh, it sounds way more natural this time, "It's Anna."

"Well, it's nice to meet you, Anna." She smiles and stretches out her hand.

I shake her hand, it feels soft and comforting, another feeling that I haven't felt since...damn it, since Elsa. Can't think about that right now. That's a problem that'll have to be fixed later, for now all that matters is this. This weird connection that I have with this attractive woman, and the drinks we share at this shitty bar. "It's nice to meet you too, uh…"

"Aurora," she replies, "My name's Aurora."