I stood at the bus station, my eyes scanning the chaos around me as if somehow willing time to pass faster. It had been almost thirty minutes, thirty unbearable minutes standing in five-inch heels. I shifted my weight from one foot to the other, trying to relieve the pressure on my aching feet. The crowd around me was maddening—people rushing in every direction, vendors selling everything from snacks to knockoff sunglasses, their voices blending into a confusing hum. Conversations overlapped in a cacophony of sound, hawkers waving their products right in my face. The atmosphere was electric, alive with the energy of the city, but also suffocating.
I sighed, frustrated. I had never liked waiting, and waiting in this heat, surrounded by noise, made it ten times worse. I didn't even want to be here. If it were up to me, I'd be at home right now, where things were quiet and calm. I imagined myself curled up in my brand-new, oversized bean bag—the one I'd impulsively bought just two days ago. It was the softest thing in the world, and I could picture sinking into it, a cold glass of freshly squeezed juice beside me. Netflix would be on, playing some light, feel-good comedy as I lost myself in the warmth of solitude.
The thought was so vivid, I could almost feel the cool fabric of the bean bag beneath my fingertips. I smiled at the idea. Today could have been so much better if I'd just stayed home, but no—Hope had insisted we meet up, and of course, she was late. Again.
My legs were starting to scream for a break. I scanned the bus station, searching for somewhere to sit, but every available space seemed to be taken by someone who looked just as tired as I felt. I sighed, resigning myself to a little while longer of standing in these torturous heels. Eventually, though, I spotted a small, uncomfortable-looking bench off to the side, right near the edge of the platform. It wasn't much, but at that moment, it felt like a beacon of hope.
I headed toward the bench, weaving my way through the crowd. A group of teenagers blared music from a phone speaker as I passed, their carefree laughter mixing with the noise of the station. Finally, I reached the bench and dropped down, sighing deeply as my feet finally got some much-needed relief. I stretched my legs out in front of me, glancing down at my shoes. They were sleek and black, a pair that made me feel confident and powerful, but God, they hurt after standing for too long. I considered taking them off, just for a moment, but the grime of the station floor convinced me otherwise.
My thoughts drifted back to the daydream I'd been enjoying. I could almost hear the familiar chime that played when Netflix loaded. I could taste the cold juice, feel the soft fabric of the bean bag as it conformed perfectly to my body. For a second, I closed my eyes, letting myself sink into the fantasy. It was a much better place to be than this crowded, noisy bus station.
"Zee!"
I flinched, the sudden shout pulling me from my peaceful daydream. I didn't need to turn around to know who it was. Only one person called me "Zee" with that particular mix of sass and affection. I braced myself before looking in the direction of the voice.
Sure enough, there was Hope, striding toward me with her usual energy, all smiles and confidence as if she hadn't just kept me waiting for half an hour.
"Don't 'Zee' me," I said, though I couldn't stop the small smile that tugged at my lips. "You're late. Again."
Hope grinned, raising her hands in mock surrender. "I know, I know, I'm sorry!" She was always saying that, always late, always apologizing, and then doing it again the next time. I crossed my arms as she sauntered closer, unbothered by the crowd or the chaos.
"What kept you this time?" I asked, reaching into my bag for the bus pass I no longer needed now that she had arrived. "Was it your landlord's son or the guy from the supermarket?"
Hope's eyes widened in fake innocence, but I knew better. Subtlety was not her strong suit.
"Neither!" she declared dramatically. "Actually, I got my period, and I had to stop at the supermarket for some pads. You know how it goes…"
I raised an eyebrow, already sensing the direction this was going. "And then you met the guy from the supermarket?" I finished for her, not surprised in the least.
Hope giggled, not bothering to deny it. "Maybe. He was cute, you know? Tall, with those dark eyes that could just… ugh!"
I rolled my eyes but laughed. "You're incorrigible! Do you even know if he's into you, or is this just another one of your 'in-the-moment' crushes?"
Hope struck a dramatic pose, flipping her long hair over her shoulder with a flourish. "Please. Have you seen me? It's impossible not to like me. I'm funny, I'm sweet, and I'm cute as hell. Scientifically impossible."
I shook my head, laughing again as she twirled like a model on a catwalk, oblivious to the busy station around her. That was the thing about Hope—no matter how much she annoyed me with her tardiness, she always managed to lighten my mood. Her energy was infectious, her zest for life undeniable. Even in a noisy, crowded bus station, she brought her own brightness.
We sat down together on the bench, the noise around us fading slightly as we fell into conversation. Hope launched into a detailed and overly dramatic retelling of her encounter with the supermarket guy—how he had smiled at her while she was deciding between brands of chocolate, how they had exchanged playful banter about her indecision.
"And then," Hope said, her eyes widening for effect, "he was like, 'Well, maybe I should help you choose next time,' and I was like, 'Only if you're buying!'" She burst out laughing, and I couldn't help but join in.
"You're ridiculous," I said, shaking my head.
"Ridiculously charming," Hope corrected with a wink. "Seriously, though, I think he's into me."
"You think every guy is into you," I teased, though I knew she probably wasn't far off.
Hope shrugged, completely unfazed. "That's because they usually are."
I rolled my eyes but smiled. Her confidence was something I admired, even if I didn't always understand it. I was confident in my own way, but Hope had this boldness that I could never quite muster. Where I was cautious and observant, she was fearless and impulsive, diving into life headfirst without hesitation.
"So," Hope said after a pause, "what were you thinking about before I got here? You looked pretty lost in thought."
I chuckled. "I was thinking about how I could be at home right now, watching Netflix and curled up in my bean bag instead of standing around waiting for you."
Hope laughed, leaning back on the bench. "Ah, the bean bag. You've mentioned it, like, ten times since you got it. I'm starting to think you love that thing more than you love me."
I smirked. "It's close."
We sat in comfortable silence for a while, watching the world bustle around us. The noise of the station was still there—the shouting, the footsteps, the constant movement of buses—but with Hope by my side, it didn't seem as overwhelming anymore. The frustration I'd felt earlier had melted away, replaced by a quiet sense of calm. That was the magic of Hope—she made everything lighter, easier.
"Anyway," Hope said, breaking the silence, "now that I'm here, what's the plan?"
I shrugged. "I don't know. I figured we'd decide together."
Hope tapped her chin thoughtfully. "We could go shopping. Or maybe get some food. I'm starving."
"You're always starving," I said, laughing.
Hope grinned. "And you're always watching Netflix. We all have our thing."
I smiled, glad I had come out after all. Netflix and my bean bag would still be there when I got home, but right now, I was with Hope, and that was worth the wait.
"Let's get something to eat," I suggested, standing up and shaking off the discomfort from my feet. "But somewhere close. These shoes are killing me."
"Deal," Hope said, linking her arm with mine. "Let's go find the cutest café we can. Preferably one with a cute waiter."
I laughed, letting her lead the way. Whatever came next, at least I wasn't waiting anymore.