That Time We Got Locked Out On A Good Ass Night

“Reset Your Password.”

The cool, nondescript tones were crisp, clear, and perfect to enunciate those three words. The three words that made absolutely no fucking sense to Ruth. A little stuttered sound actually left her mouth before she regained herself. No big, Ruth assured herself, because she’s still kind of drunk and her fingers probably slipped along the digital keypad.

Taking a steady breath, Ruth tapped her passcode in again, gestures perhaps a little sharper than the first time, but- listen. Hey. Four in the morning, crisp night shredding her four in the afternoon logic to wear the new minidress she’d bought, body dragging and cognizant of every slowly exhaled huff from her roommate Cella . . .

“Reset Your Password.”

Ruth wonders if she was losing her mind. The palm of her left hand pressed to the stone wall by the gently glowing retina scanner and pin key that normally let her into her house. “. . . What- what do you mean reset-”

Aggressively, she slammed the passcode she’s been using for an entire year since they bought this damn place into the pin and waited. Her eyes narrowed as the silence continued, the little circles feigning an infinite loop in the small HD screen.

The results were merciless. “Reset Your Password.”

“Mother-!”

A sparkling little chime drew her attention down to her phone. With fumbling hands, she rummaged through her heart-shaped purse and fished out the slim piece, brows flying upwards when the notification turned out to be from the HOA.

“HOA just texted.” Ruth noted to her seated roommate, glancing over her shoulder just to see the drunk girl saluting her with the bottle they’d managed to slip out of the VIP section. Curious if some malfunction was happening around the neighborhood, she tapped on it and read through the message.

Hi! We’ve received a notification from your security system that someone is trying to use an expired passcode to enter your premises. If this isn’t you, please call Security using your app. If this is you, please follow the link to reset your passcode.

Ruth stared at the phone. They couldn’t be serious.

“So . . . are they gonna call the police on us?” Cella drawled, punctuating the end with a deep gulp and wet pop of her lips releasing the lip of the bottle.

“No,” Ruth took a deep breath, quelling the urge to take the bottle from Cella and smash the “state of the art security” attachment in her sudden rage. “I have to just . . . reset the passcode. Which- what the fuck even- did they ever tell us about having to change the password for OUR HOUSE?!”

“Whoa, quiet hours bitch!” Cella grumbled, resting her chin against her kneecaps. “Uh . . . no, but like . . . I bet it’s somewhere deep in that crazy ass user manual they gave us with our deed, you know that book that wanted to be the yellow pages so bad?”

“Yeah, that thing was way too big to read.” Ruth acknowledged. Groaning, she set her shoulders against the solid wood of her door and slid down, conscious of her tight hemline and exposed thighs. “I can’t believe this . . . I can’t get into our house unless I redo our password . . . this timeline is a desecration of God’s Grace. A terrible, horrible thing. What even- This is Zuckerberg’s fault. I don’t know how, but it is, and Social Media backs me up.”

“I don’t remember anything from that movie except Andrew Garfield is sexy, especially when he’s hot- I mean mad.” Cella adds helpfully. And, Ruth thinks to herself, remembering Andrew Garfield in that black suit does make her feel a little better. Pouting, she looks back at her phone and clinks on the link to reset her password so she can get inside the house and pretend their night didn’t end as embarrassing as it did.