Based off the popular netflix show, You, takes a new spin on a young curator, Harry, who suddenly gets fixated on a beautiful photography student, Aria. Harry obsesses over his new found love and realizes that she might be the one.
...
The following morning I wake up in my bed with a face full of curls. I prop myself up on my side to find you laying next to me, wearing my t-shirt. It's a bit too big for you, causing it to hang off your shoulder. Little rays of sunlight peak through the blinds and paint your exposed skin. I softly caress your shoulder and your eyes flutter open. You sit up, letting out a big yawn, as you rub your eyes.
"Good Morning" you squeak, with a soft smile.
"How did you get into my-" I start but am interrupted by you climbing into my lap.
You put a finger over my mouth and start to leave a trail of kisses along my neck. Between each kiss you manage to utter a word.
"You. need. to. wake. up."
What?
"You need to wake up, Harry."
I'm startled awake by a series of vibrations coming from underneath the pillow. Grabbing my phone and unlocking it, I scroll through the usual notifications, until I come across something I did not want to see. Under your cloud, I find three messages from someone named Wyatt.
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Baby? Who is this guy? I can only assume the worst, considering the time of night he decided to message you.
Within seconds I find myself on instagram. And, thanks to the new spyware, I'm able to browse through your account. I click on "following" and Wyatt Simmons is the first name at the top.
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Wyatt Simmons. If your vapid, edgy pictures weren't telltale enough, the tattoo of "Your throat here" etched across your hand really puts it in perspective. Your profile screams,"middle class asshole with a rebellious streak". What a prick.
While scrolling through his profile, I see that he works at a tech startup called The Varsity.
Varsity. Where have I heard that before?
I suddenly recall the bright grand opening signs for a new company called the "Varsity" opening down the street from my art gallery.
Wondering the full extent of your relationship with this "Wyatt", I open up the archived posts on your page, hoping to find more information there. I scroll through countless pictures of strangers, who I assume are your friends, until I stumble upon one particular post.
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Posted one year ago. You dated this asshole for a whole year? Aria, I'm so disappointed. For sure you'd date someone with a little more substance to them.
My curiosity leads me back to your texts, as I scroll up further into your conversation with Wyatt.
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Oh, Aria. Seeing you throw yourself at someone who so obviously has ulterior motives is.... depressing, to say the least. Friends with benefits, seriously? Why are you letting him use you? You deserve better than that - you deserve me.
As I come back from my thoughts, I notice that you updated your story on instagram. It's a picture of you, fresh out of bed, your golden eyes hiding behind a pair of dark frames. The words "Coffee Run" sit at the bottom corner in bold text.
I think it's time we have a proper introduction. See you there, Aria.
