Jax's Headspace
Jax didn't walk home; she floated. Her head was a helium balloon, and her backpack was the only thing anchoring to the Earth. The streetlights stretched into streaks of golden, blissful nonsense, all because of a ridiculously stupid, unrestrained smile plastered to her face.
It was entirely Astraea's fault.
The last few weeks had been a dizzying, three-dimensional upgrade of their best online work sessions. They'd moved from pixels to pavement, spending hours debating optimal hex codes over shared lattes. The professional barrier hadn't just dissolved; it had sprinted out of the room, yelling, "I'm not paid enough for this much effortless chemistry!"
Astraea's final words of the evening echoed in Jax's ears: "Working with you online was one thing... But getting to know you in person has completely changed my perspective on a lot of things."
Warning! Warning! Jax's internal alarm system went off. System overload! Is she talking about the new coffee machine? No, Jax, she is not talking about the new coffee machine!
The compliment was so sincere, so weighted, it made Jax feel ridiculously important. She stopped dead beneath a flickering neon sign.
"Wait," she muttered, pulling her shoulders back. "If Nina saw this expression, she'd immediately say, 'You look like a creep with that smile, Jax. Did you finally successfully petition the city for a 'Taco Tuesday' holiday?'"
The thought of Nina's sharp, familiar teasing, though critical, was always comforting. Now, it just felt painful. The goofy smile immediately dissolved, replaced by a deep, aching wave of concern.
Nina hadn't been herself. Her texts were short—one or two words where there used to be paragraphs of detailed complaints about bad customers or terrible TV shows. She'd been avoiding calls, citing vague busyness. The happiness Jax felt with Astraea, once a solid 10, dropped to a confusing 6.5, undercut by the guilt of enjoying herself while her best friend felt miles away.
The next day, Jax was ambushed. She had just finished her shift at Manchae's, smelling faintly of roasted beans and regret, when a tense figure stepped out from behind a parked van.
It was Jin. He was trying very hard to look serious. Since he also pulled part-time hours doing overflow programming for the same virtual task company as Jax and Astraea, he was definitely familiar with Jax's more catastrophic work moments.
"Jax," Jin said, stepping directly into her path. "We need to talk. This isn't a casual chat. This is… an intervention of information."
Jax jumped, nearly sacrificing her half-finished takeaway spanish latte to the sidewalk. "Oh! Hey, Jin! Uh... Intervention of information? Is this about the time I accidentally printed an entire spreadsheet using pink ink? Because that was a typo, I swear."
Jin, however, was in no mood for corporate nonsense...
He ran a hand through his perpetually buzz cut hair. "It's about Nina. Look, I respect you. I respect you as her closest kin—the designated 'Emergency Contact and Keeper of Secret Snack Stashes.'. That's why I need you to know something serious."
Jin took a deep, dramatic breath, his eyes fixed somewhere over Jax's shoulder.
"I like Nina. And I am serious about her. I don't need your permission or anything, but for the sake of your closeness, I am informing you that I will be making my advances. I will do anything to make her mine."
Jin held his breath, waiting for a gasp, a challenge, or maybe a dramatic slow-motion fight scene.
Jax just stared blankly. Her brain, currently trying to parse the phrase "making my advances," had completely short-circuited.
"…"
Jin's brow furrowed. He broke character immediately. "You're supposed to say the line! I did my part! Are you the silent, stoic rival? Is this a dramatic pause or did your entire face stop working? Say something! An 'I disapprove' or a 'Good luck, you'll need it'?"
"Did you… rehearse that in front of a mirror?" Jax finally managed, her voice a squeaky whisper. "Because it was… very well-delivered. Strong, decisive diction."
Jin's face instantly turned a bright, annoyed red. He looked mortified and furious all at once. "No, I did not rehearse it! I'm trying to be a grown-up and transparent! I just confessed my serious intentions to the girl's human security system, and you're critiquing my delivery?! What is wrong with you?"
Jax shrugged, taking a large, awkward sip of her latte. "Well, I just figured if you're going to use terms like 'make my advances' and 'make her mine,' you need to commit to the role. Maybe a cape next time? Or a tiny spotlight? Also, you're still technically on a project with me and Astraea. Shouldn't we be discussing the database query issue instead of your epic dating quest?"
"This is not funny, Jax!" Jin yelled, gesturing wildly with his hands. "Your silence is highly unprofessional in this context! Are you saying 'yes' or 'no' or 'I will guard her with a flaming sword'?! Besides, that query issue is your fault for forgetting a semicolon in the first place!"
"Look, Jin," Jax said, finding her footing now that Jin was floundering. "I'm Nina's friend. Not her dating gatekeeper. If you want to impress her, maybe skip the dramatic monologue and try bringing her that one specific caramel swirl pastry that she pretends to hate but actually secretly loves."
Jin instantly deflated, his dramatic intensity dissolving into pure shyness. "Wait, she hates the caramel swirl? I thought she liked the almond danish… Is this a test? Are you testing me, Jax?"
Jax smiled, finally getting a real laugh. "Maybe. You'll have to figure out the Pixels to her Latte. Now, if you'll excuse me, my pillow is calling, and it's threatening to send me a strongly-worded email if I'm late."
That night, Jax couldn't sleep. Her head was buzzing with conflicting thoughts.
Astraea's powerful words about changing her perspective didn't feel like a threat anymore. They just felt like noise.
Then there was Jin's absurd declaration. "I will make her mine." The image of his earnest, tomato-red face—mid-dramatic monologue—was almost enough to make her laugh again. But beneath the comedy was a stark fact: Jin was taking decisive, serious action, while Jax had been passively waiting, hoping Nina would snap out of whatever mood she was in.
A new image surfaced—the sight of Nina's smile fading in those weeks, her eyes filling with that unreadable, distant emotion. Jax replayed every clipped text message, every canceled plan. She finally understood.
It wasn't about Astraea being here, and it wasn't about Jin's sudden intervention of information. It was about what was missing. It had never been just about Astraea.
The core problem wasn't the designer who was here. It was the best friend who was pulling away.
In a moment of clarity and panic, Jax grabbed her phone, her thumb hovering over Nina's contact. She had to talk to her. She had to fix this.
But as she was about to call, a new message popped up on her screen.
It was from Astraea.
"I have to be honest. This project wasn't a coincidence. My boss didn't want me to come here. I asked for it."
To be continued...