Second chance runaway

Back in my office, I closed the door behind me and leaned against it for a moment, exhaling slowly. The notification on my phone still echoed in my mind, and I couldn't shake the strange flutter of excitement it brought.

Elena Vargas had followed me. I walked over to my desk and picked up my phone, my finger hovering over the screen. Following her back was a simple gesture, yet it felt like a significant step.

I tapped the button to follow her, watching as her name joined the list of those I followed. The thought of waiting for her to text me first or taking the initiative myself now loomed large in my mind. I was not someone who hesitated, but this felt different. Elena was different.

I paced my office, my thoughts in a whirlwind. Should I wait for her to reach out first? Or should I make the first move? My usual decisiveness was conspicuously absent, replaced by an uncharacteristic uncertainty.

"Lydia!" I called, my voice sharper than intended. A moment later, Lydia appeared at the door, her usual calm and efficient demeanor firmly in place.

"Yes, Carmen?" she asked, stepping inside and closing the door behind her.

"I need your advice on something," I said, immediately regretting the words. I didn't often seek advice, especially not on personal matters.

Lydia raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. "Of course. What's on your mind?"

I gestured for her to sit, then sat down myself, trying to compose my thoughts. "It's about Elena Vargas. She followed me on Instagram."

Lydia's eyes widened slightly, a hint of amusement dancing in them. "Really? That's interesting. And you're wondering what to do next?"

"Yes," I admitted, feeling a bit foolish. "Do I wait for her to message me first, or do I reach out to her?"

Lydia leaned back in her chair, considering. "Well, Carmen, it depends on what you want. Do you want to take control of the situation, or are you okay with letting her make the first move?"

I frowned, not liking the ambiguity. "I'm not sure. I've never been in this kind of situation before."

Lydia chuckled softly. "Carmen, it's not a corporate merger. It's just social media. If you're interested, why not send a simple message? Something casual, like 'Hi, how are you?'"

I shook my head. "That sounds too...ordinary."

"Sometimes ordinary is good," Lydia pointed out. "It doesn't always have to be a grand gesture."

I sighed, feeling a bit annoyed. "I don't do 'ordinary,' Lydia."

"Then make it your own," she said with a shrug. "Just don't overthink it. Be yourself, Carmen. That's what makes you interesting."

I rolled my eyes. "Easy for you to say. You're not the one sending the message."

Lydia smiled, her eyes twinkling with amusement. "True, but you're the one who asked for advice."

I sighed again, feeling a mix of gratitude and frustration. "Fine, I'll think about it. You can go now."

Lydia stood up, still smiling. "Good luck, Carmen. And remember, it's just a message. Don't stress too much about it."

As she left, I glared at my phone, feeling no closer to a decision. Lydia was right, of course, but that didn't make it any easier. I picked up my phone again, my fingers hovering over the screen. What if I just sent a simple "Hi"? Would that be too forward? Too casual?

Taking a deep breath, I typed "Hi" into the message box. I stared at it for a moment, my finger hovering over the send button. This was ridiculous. Why was I so nervous about this?

Without thinking, I accidentally brushed the send button, and the message was sent. Panic surged through me. What had I done? I stared at the screen in horror, seeing the simple "Hi" staring back at me.

"No, no, no," I muttered, feeling a wave of embarrassment wash over me. In a fit of frustration, I threw my phone onto the couch, watching it bounce harmlessly onto the cushions.

I buried my face in my hands, feeling both ridiculous and relieved. The message was sent. There was no taking it back now. All I could do was wait and see how Elena responded.

What was wrong with me? I was Carmen Steele, known for my firm, unflappable demeanor. This embarrassment over a simple message was entirely out of character. I should have been confident, not frazzled. Taking a deep breath, I forced myself to calm down. This was no different from any other interaction; I just needed to regain my composure.

I walked over to the couch and picked up my phone, examining it for damage. It was a bit scratched but still functional. I unlocked it and opened Instagram, navigating back to the conversation with Elena. The word "Hi" glared back at me from the screen, and I felt a renewed surge of nervous anticipation.

Time seemed to crawl as I waited for a response. I found myself glancing at the clock repeatedly, each minute stretching into an eternity. Doubts began to creep in—what if she didn't respond? What if she found my message too abrupt, too simple?

Just as I was starting to convince myself that Elena wouldn't reply, I saw the small notification that my message had been read. My heart skipped a beat, and I watched the screen intently. The typing indicator appeared, and I held my breath.

Seconds later, Elena's message popped up: "Hi, how are you?"

Relief and excitement washed over me simultaneously. She had replied, and the conversation was now in motion. I stared at her message for a moment, allowing myself a small, satisfied smile. This was just the beginning.