[In]Visible Boundaries

"Good morning, Sylvie."

For anyone who doesn't know, that's me. Yes, the one behind the computer, taking care of my tasks early in the morning. I've been working in this stuffy office for over a year. I can't complain though, because most of my colleagues are more than pleasant. I see myself as a very lucky person. I don't have a particularly high opinion of how I look, but I've been called cute so many times I might start believing it.

Oh, the handsome guy with a cup of coffee in his hand? He is my colleague Ethan. He's been an angel ever since I started working for the company. Probably the most hardworking person I've seen in a long while. The hot inviting cup of coffee is actually for me. He does this every single morning. If I have to quote him: "Coffee is better with company." I have no complaints whatsoever. 

"Good morning to you as well, Ethan.", I accept the cup with sincere gratitude reflected in my light gray irises. Like clockwork his tall slender figure heads for a neatly arranged work corner where the clatter of keyboard keys commences. Our brief rendezvous sinks into a familiar routine.

A day like any other - busy, tiring and filled with countless cups of coffee.

"Sylvie, Ethan, in my office in five!", We hear the boss's voice call out.

I look at my colleague in confusion, but he just smiles warmly. I quickly finish the article I started working on and save my progress, just in case. The nightmare of starting an article from scratch has taught me a valuable lesson that is sure to last a lifetime. Ethan joins me and we go to the boss's office. I knock lightly, until I hear Mr. Murphy's voice beckon us in. We've barely settled down on the wide sofa when our boss gets down to business. For him work always comes first.

"Lately our work load hasn't been amazing and, to be honest, I'm displeased with the level of articles we've been publishing. Luckily for us, I was just on the phone with your next big assignment", a theatrical push of wide-rimmed glasses up his slightly crooked nose, "As two of my best employees, I couldn't help but think of you first. It's about a TV show that's very popular currently.

I unconsciously glance at Ethan who is carefully absorbing Mr. Murphy's every word.

"Unfortunately…", The excitement in his gaze quickly sinks, as if it were Titanic, replaced by obvious irritation, "there's one little problem. The producer only allows couples on the show and that was his condition for letting us write an article on the subject. But you two aren't one…are you?"

There is hope in Mr. Murphy's eyes but I shake my head, as unpleasant as that may be. Next to me Ethan seems lost in thought. Suddenly he snaps his fingers and the boss and I look at him questioningly.

"Why don't we pretend to be a couple?", He smiles as if he's arrived at the simplest and most logical solution possible.

"But…", I open my mouth, ready to present them with all kinds of different arguments but I'm quickly dismissed and ignored by the already enthusiastic Mr. Murphy.

"I knew I could count on you! The meeting with the producer, as well as the competition itself will take place next Thursday at 3:00 PM."

While the two members of the male population discuss the remaining details, I have no choice but to sit quietly and accept my apparent fate.

Tuesday afternoon, on the way to the studio

"Ethan, I'm not sure this is a good idea."

After a long subway ride the two of us are headed for the TV studio in question. Anxiety has once again taken hold of my mind, a place it's not welcome in. I'm not fond of lies, especially those that are as easy to disprove.

"Everything will be alright. We're not going there to win, just take part in the show. It's vital to our article."

"While I am aware of that, how are we to convince them we're actually together? What if we make fools of ourselves and in public, to top it off?"

"We're a new couple, been together for a short time and still getting to know each other. That should alleviate the circumstances."

"If you say so…", Accepting his answer does not stop the panic and worry within me. One can tell how nervous I am just from how tense my footsteps appear. I pray for this day to be over faster.

Half an hour and a considerable amount of makeup later the host, dressed in an overly flashy suit, is reciting his lines displayed on a small screen in front of him, "Our guests today are six couples in love, who are to take part in our competition.", his smile is as sparkly as a two-hundred-carat-diamond when he turns to each one of us with a brief greeting, "During the show you will collect different amounts of points depending on your performance. You will be told the rules of each round a couple of minutes before it takes place. As you might have already guessed, the couple with the most points wins."

Typical rules of a perfectly typical TV show.

"Are you ready??"

Everyone else shouts "YES" at the top of their lungs, while here's me who is still nervously muttering prayers. Ethan is the epitome of calm - typical. I nearly scream when his hand slips over mine and squeezes it reassuringly. I feel redness creeping in my cheeks.

Lucky for me, the loud-mouthed host comes to my rescue, "Let the "Love Olympics" begin!"

I hold back the urge to laugh out loud. Who comes up with these names?! This faint boost in mood provides me with a certain amount of much-needed calm, which flies straight out the window after the eccentric TV host's next words.

"To participate first in our opening game we've chosen our special guests. They worked together for a year before love knocked on their door. A couple of young people who, I dare say, go very well together. A round of applause for Sylvie and Ethan!"

The mock audience applauds as they are told to, while the feeling of guilt slowly eats away at me.

"We'll start with a game of trivia. You'll be asked ten questions about your partner. There will be a wall between you and every time an answer is given the person on the other side of the wall will hold up a sign indicating whether that was correct or not, something visible to only the audience. We won't know the final result until all questions have been asked. You'll have one minute to answer all ten questions. Which one of you wants to go first?"

To my relief Ethan expresses an almost surprising desire to be first, so we both take our seats.

"So, are you ready?", The host asks him.

"Ready."

I listen carefully, the signs sitting on my lap.

"We'll start with an easy one. What colour are Sylvie's eyes?"

"Silvery grey with a barely visible speck of brown on the left side of the irises.", Ethan answers immediately without even thinking.

I freeze in my seat. The girl next to me gestures that I need to raise one of the signs. I nearly drop them, but manage to answer with "Yes."

With each question, drop by drop the doubt and confusion within me form a boundless ocean. How does Ethan know so much about me? Did he study me carefully, just so we would do well today? I doubt it. Besides, even if he had there's no way for him to know the exact questions they'd ask him.

"What is Sylvie's biggest secret?"

I get goosebumps, my whole body feels like it's covered in pins and needles. If I were a hedgehog, I would have curled up into a ball and rolled to the safety of my home. The secret no one but me was supposed to know is revealed to everyone present and an unknown number of the show's future viewers. I can't take this anymore, I gotta get out of here. I pay no mind to everyone who gets in my way and escape the studio as quickly as possible.

On the way home my phone wouldn't stop ringing. I turn it off and forget it exists. My mind is preoccupied with thousands of questions and panic rising in dangerous waves.

My heart is pounding like crazy, tears are welling up in my eyes when I finally cross the threshold of my home. Now completely safe but not even a bit calmer I drop all of my belongings by the door and collapse on the soft bed. I close my eyes and do a breathing exercise. A worrying thought crosses my mind - perhaps I overreacted. I quickly send that absurdity to hell. Who's responsible for the questions on this crappy show?? Anger rises within me, in an attempt to replace the panic and for a moment it does. Why am I blaming the show instead of Ethan? Let's not look for logic where it doesn't exist.

The next couple of hours are filled with nervous pacing around the apartment, futile attempts to have dinner like a normal person and a hot shower that refuses to provide the usual effect. My brain is tired and my head is pounding like crazy. Only my body, as if it were a gummy bear, relaxes under the weight of fatigue. I give up and wrap myself in a warm blanket.

When I open my eyes in the morning I have no memory of when I finally fell asleep. I don't get the opportunity to dwell on that for too long. I feel the warmth, the breathing, the foreign touch of a body next to mine. I don't dare turn around, my heart is racing at an abnormal speed. The person's next words make my blood run cold.

"Good morning, Sylvie."

The End