Never Let Them Define You

NO TIME LIKE THE PRESENT

She stops squinting, then nods, and opens the door fully. Fuck you, divine intervention.

"So, uh, what do you do?" he asks in an almost casual way as he lays his briefcase on the floor beside the beds.

"Act, sing, dance, and everything else beautiful...you?"

Um," he chuckles and says with a voice crack, "finance." He clears his throat and leans on the wall next to the window, then quickly stops and stands up straight, and his hands dive into his pockets as he twists about uncomfortably. "I guess my profession's a little lamer than yours."

She giggles. "I guess, but you know, ripping off the system sounds kind of fun."

His face turns red and he stammers, "It's not like that! I'm honorable."

"Whatever..." She slinks over to the bed and sits on the bottom bunk with her arms stretched out beside her, then tilts her head. "Why'd you do it?"

"Do what? I didn't do anything." He laughs quickly and looks back and forth nervously.

"You need to chill, man...I meant, why'd you go into finance?"

He sits down next to her and looks at her with wide eyes and embarrassment, then takes a deep breath, and looks at the wall in front of them. "Uh, I was just following in my father's footsteps."

"That's why? No offense, but I mean, you didn't have to."

"Yeah, well, I always had a lot of respect for him." He smiles and looks up at the ceiling. "I wanted to be just like him, hell, I still do."

"Does he own some famous company or something I would know?"

"No, I mean...it's not super famous, but you may have heard of it."

"Well then, what's it called?"

"General Motors."

"Are you kidding me?"

He looks at her guiltily. "What? Was I supposed to think you'd know it?"

"That's literally one of the big three."

"Well..." He throws up his arms and looks at the ceiling again. "I didn't think you'd be into cars."

"Wow...I'm just gonna pretend to not be insulted by that, but I'm not into cars, so I guess you're right."

"How is that insulting in any way?"

"What led you to that assumption?"

"You know, your-" he pauses and twiddles his thumbs.

"My boobs?"

"What? No...It was your, um, you know, the way you said you were an artist, you know, artists are usually all like, anti-corporation and what-not."

"Well, you're right about that, in my case, at least, but I'm still 100% sure that's not why."

"Why are you persecuting me for a simple assumption?"

"Persecuting you? You literally were all like, 'You know, your-it was your, um, you know,' I mean, come on!"

"Well, I've just never met a woman who was into cars." He throws up his arms, which hit the top bunk. "Ow!" He shakes his hands and turns to her. "Anyways, are you happy?"

Her face squeezes up, then releases, and she asks slowly, "Never?"

"No! Well, I mean, some women have told me they liked cars, but-"