She held up a finger. “No, no, no, no ––” Vena singsonged, grinning wider the higher Sam’s eyebrows lift with every no that dances out. “Not reckless; that’s bad branding is what that is. Try spontaneous. Try adventurous! Try fearless.” She winked and draped her arm over Sam’s shoulder. Barefoot it’d have been hard considering their height difference, but luckily, she never went anywhere without a pair of platform boots on her. 

Today she wore her favorite pair. Go-go boot-esque and white as a blank canvas, she spent more time cleaning it of dirt than actually walking in it, but it was the pair she’d worn the day she’d gone in to audition for Afterthought, and therefore they weren’t just any boots, but the best and luckiest pair of boots in the whole wide world. 

See, this was how Vena thought ever since she’d had operation. Everything was an extreme, everything was something to be seized and emphasized and appreciated. Even with the stress of paying back her parents, saving them from mountains of debt, she couldn’t help but wonder over the chance she’d been given. She could have died –– but didn’t. The thought was never far from her mind. And the effect that had on her was nothing short of transformative. If before she had a taste for travel and living life to the fullest, now she was downright starving. She chose to take nothing –– absolutely nothing! –– for granted. She never knew what she might see for the last time. The sky was no longer just the sky, but rather The Sky. Music was no longer just music. Boots were no longer just boots. 

And her PR manager was definitely not just her PR manager. But that had nothing to do with her operation, and everything to do with her heart. Er… her metaphorical heart, not the one with a hole and a tube through it. 

“Besides, so what if I am?” She smiled, laughing a little because no one knew just how terrified she was deep down. But what was the alternative? Living afraid was being afraid to live, and Vena needed –– really fucking needed –– to live. “I know you like it.” 

She grinned impishly, and dropped her arm before anyone could spot them. But not before she squeezed it softly. While she had no problem flirting, no problem upping the ante every time they were alone together, she didn’t want Sam to get fired. In fact, that was the last thing she wanted. Ignoring her big-ass crush on him, Vena needed him on her side. Sam was the only person, asides from their manager, that knew of her condition. And she planned to keep it that way. 

“Come on, we can go somewhere where no one knows who we are… I’ll wear a wig and a mustache and a pair of sunglasses and no one will know who I am. I’ll call myself Victoria Lake and you can go by Ansel Von Toiletheim and we’ll have a fantastic time.” It was quite the pitch Vena was making. But what really sold it was the tilt of the head, the playful way she touched the tip of her glossy-toed foot to his. “Come on. Just say yes.”