Quarantine and Chill - AMBW Standalone Romance

Why didn’t Jade bring her boyfriend Jason to the wedding?

She’d never answered when I asked.

Maybe she finally got rid of that loser. He never seemed right for her.

Studying the photo, I turned to my girlfriend and me. We sat on Jade’s other side. Amber was from Los Angeles. She had the California look—long blonde hair, tanned skin, and bright blue eyes. In the image, I smiled next to her. Next to her, my complexion was more sun-kissed. My black curly hair hit the middle of my ears. My brown eyes twinkled with the joy of new love. Unfortunately, the new love hadn’t represented us. It was for my sister and this new journey she’d embarked on.

What happened to us, and will we ever get it back?

I’d met Amber during my senior year at UCLA. She was a theater major that minored in psychology. She loved makeup design and volunteered backstage at a lot of UCLA’s plays. My best friend Ross worked as a costume designer. One night I walked backstage to bring him a case of rum for their current play’s finale and bumped into Amber. We dated a lot after that.

When I graduated from UCLA, we lost communication. She stayed in California, while Ross and I headed to New York to start our individual businesses.

Several years passed.

And then I bumped into her at a UCLA homecoming game. We started things back up with a long-distance relationship and saw each other when we could. Probably too fast, I moved Amber to New York in January. Currently, it was March, and everything changed between us.

And now we have the coronavirus heading our way. I thought love was supposed to make rough moments in life easier.

My relationship proved to be the opposite. Amber’s pill usage created a toxic environment. I buried myself in work. At times, I didn’t go home until late in the evening. When I arrived at the condo, Amber would be passed out. Sadly, I started to be grateful that I didn’t have to talk to her.

Long ago, fucking Amber until she screamed my name would have been the perfect thing to put me to sleep. Now, I preferred a beer. I couldn’t get an erection when she was near, no matter how much she begged or what lingerie she wore.

Amber and I will be locked in together. This will either make or break us.

The biggest event in March was supposed to be my sister’s wedding and nothing more.

Surprises. Surprises.

Already States had banned gatherings of more than ten people. The National Basketball Association ended its season. Other sports organizations followed suit. Coachella was canceled. Broadway closed as well as most museums in New York. Every damn state had reports of its citizens being dead or infected by the coronavirus.

And somehow New York had become the epicenter for the virus.

The Governor is considering a lockdown? Of New York? How?

I spun around in my chair and gazed outside my office window.

We sat on the thirtieth floor of the North Tower—a super-tall mixed-use building in the West Side of Manhattan. Right by Hell's Kitchen, Chelsea, and Penn Station area.

I drank in what had been my second home for these past three years. Sunlight sparkled along the skyscrapers as Manhattan moved busily under me.

How will this city change?

Already people packed the streets with masks on. The poor souls that couldn’t get masks, had scarves wrapped around the bottom half of their faces. Cars drove at a snail pace. There were starting to be fewer riders on the subway.

What is everyone thinking? Am I the only one that is exploding within myself?

Fear seized my chest. Anxiety tightened around my neck, choking my breath away. This recent news had gobbled up the norm in my day. It consumed me. It seeped in my pores, traveled down through my insides, and burrowed deep within my soul. I did my best to push the thoughts out of my head—the worrisome fucking thoughts on death and sickness and. . .my family. . .

Will they be okay? Will any of us be okay?

At least I was lucky enough to be rich. Many would be worried about their jobs and livelihoods.

Money filled my bank account. My company, Z.E.N. had experienced three successful years since I started it.

Z.E.N. dealt with tech security and surveillance. With so many data breaches splashed across the news in these past years, my patented AI tech enabled several defenses from cyberattacks on networks. Last year, I raised $5.5 million in seed funding. After so much struggling and working at my startup, I’d become a millionaire at thirty. 2020 was supposed to be my year. In January, I bought a new luxury three-bedroom condo with cash and moved Amber in. I had planned on proposing to Amber and maybe starting a family.

Now it was March and all marital thoughts and future dreams ended with her recent pill-popping and my rising anxiety. Personally, I just wanted to survive this year.