I followed him inside, my hands gripping the fabric of my dress.
Okay. I could do this.
“Jake, I have something to tell you. I… It’s me. I mean, the Bear. The mascot you see every weekend. That’s me.”
There. I said it. I waited for his reaction, my heart pounding like a drumline in my ears. Before I could finish, there was a loud “POP!”
I jumped. Then…
“Surprise!”
The door burst open, and my confused coworkers suddenly appeared from under the tables, balloons in hand, more whispering than yelling, “Happy Work Anniversary…”
Oh. OH.
I had forgotten entirely.
Jake looked at me, equally stunned. And then, just like that, the moment was gone.
He’d already stepped away, forcing a smile as our coworkers started clapping and shoving a cake into my hands.
“I have things to do,” he muttered, brushing past me. “Enjoy your party.”
I stood there, frozen, holding a cake I didn’t even want. And that was that.
That evening, I resigned. I left my notice on his desk with a simple, professional “Thank you for the opportunity.”
No explanations. No second chances. I lied too many times to recover our coffee talking.
And then I did what any heartbroken woman would do: drowned my sorrows in chips and old black-and-white romance movies.
But I still had bills to pay. That meant Saturday came, and once again, I had to be the Bear.
***
But on Saturday morning, something strange happened. A second mascot appeared. Not a Bear. Something worse.
A Skunk!
I stared. That had to be some kind of joke.
“Morning, Bear,” the Skunk said, handing me a coffee like we were old friends.
I froze. That voice! Again… It couldn’t be!
The Skunk stood there, tapping one oversized paw against his hip like he was waiting for me to say something.
“Nice day for some flyering, huh?” he continued, voice dripping with amusement.
I narrowed my eyes. “Who are you?”
The Skunk tilted his giant cartoonish head.
“Oh, come on. You don’t recognize me?”
My heart started hammering. The voice. The ridiculous confidence.
No. No way.
“You… you quit your job to pass out flyers?” I blurted out, my brain short-circuiting.
The Skunk shook his massive, foam-covered head.
“Not exactly. But let’s say when I found out a certain someone was hiding behind a bear suit every weekend, I had to investigate.”
Oh. My. God.
“Jake?”
And then, in one slow, dramatic motion, he reached up and pulled off the oversized skunk head.
There he was, smirking. His hazel eyes shone with amusement, and he looked ridiculously pleased with himself.
“Surprise!”
“This… this is the dumbest thing you’ve ever done.”
“Probably.”
He stepped closer, holding my gaze.
“So, what do you say? Real coffee this time?”
I let out a breathless laugh, shaking my head.
“Fine. But only if you promise never to wear that skunk suit again.”
“No promises,” he smirked, reaching for my hand.
And just like that, I finally stepped out of my costume and into something even scarier.
Real life.
