“you’re lying,” mira states flatly, eyes narrowed. you’d been late every single day to practice for your upcoming, massive gig, and it was starting to get on mira’s nerves. how was she supposed to teach you the right choreography when you couldn’t show up on time like zoey and rumi?

“what have you been doing instead of your job? huh?” she presses.

your feet shift on the floor, back leaning against the wall of the 8th floor.

“um…” you begin, “i got caught up with other work.”

“liar,” mira grumbles again, “you’re seeing that boy, right? aren’t you? the one we all specifically told you not to see because he’s a distraction?”

you flinch slightly. mira was mad, mad. maybe it wasn’t entirely because of your horrible tardiness, but mixed in with a hint of jealousy and possessiveness as well.