01x05 - Surprise Me

[bunniefuu]

(cash registers beeping)

Mm, burr.

(groans)

Eh!

(upbeat electronic music)

♪ ♪

(eerie music)

♪ ♪

(keyboard clacking)

♪ ♪

(sighs)
Stupid.

♪ ♪

(sighs)

♪ ♪

(mutters)

♪ ♪

Nice.

♪ ♪

Wonderful...

♪ ♪

(droning music)

♪ ♪

(sighs)

(muttering)

(crunching)

(eerie music)

♪ ♪

Thanks.

(exhales deeply)

(droning music)

(cell phone buzzes)

(ominous musical sting)

f*ck.

(upbeat funky music)

♪ ♪

(upbeat pop music)

♪ ♪

Ah!
(sucks in breath)

Blood.

(woman singing
in foreign language)

♪ ♪

(tinny pop music)

♪ ♪

(grunting)

Ah.

Sorry, no more.

Bad thumb make me stop.

Um...

Uh, sorry.
what is this?

Uh, "Natalie
and Jero"?

New York Magazine
says you're

the best hand engraver
in town.

New York Magazine
is correct,

but I need two thumbs.

Yeah, okay--but, you know--
but I--my name is Jerome.

Could you just add, like,
two more letters on--

No.
No more letters.

You want buy or you want me
to throw in garbage can, huh?

I think it's
kind of cute, don't you, Jero?

Uh, I don't know.
It seems a little incomplete.

Maybe it means
you incomplete man.

(chuckles)

Uh, can I just try it on?
Thank you.

Look nice
next to hair and arm.

I love it.
I'm never taking it off ever.

(upbeat music)

♪ ♪

(bed creaking)

(both moaning)

♪ ♪

(screams)

(crowd cheering)

♪ ♪

Hmm.
Huh.

(high-pitched dramatic music)

♪ ♪

♪ Top down, top down ♪

♪ Rollin', rollin' ♪

♪ Yeah ♪

(knocks on door)

Uh...

(gasps)

That's stupid.

(exhales deeply)

(screams)

(laughs)

I know that little body.

(laughs)

(both moan)

Oh, no--oh, my God.

Oh.

- I'm so sorry.
- (chuckles nervously)

- No.
- I'm so sorry.

(laughs)

- I thought you were--
- I--I...

Is not... ?

That's .

(exhales and chuckles)

- I'm so sorry.
- It's okay.

Well, welcome home.

(laughs)

(deep breathing)

(knocks on door)

No.

(grunts)
No, that's stupid.

Let's do the same.

(shrieks)

(both laugh)

Wait, wait, wait,
let me look at you.

- (sighs)
- (both moan)

Oh, my God.

- I can eat you in one piece.
- I'm home, baby.

(both laugh)

Ah!

(knocks on door)

Stupid.

Ah,
there you are!

No, no, no, no, no, no, no,

no, no, no, no, no,
no, no, no, no, no.

I'm sorry for your loss.

(gasps)

No.

Adam.

(sobbing)

Oh, my God.

(shoes clicking)

(knocks on door gently)

I'm sorry, is this ?

That's .

Oh, that's ?

Oh, that's for them.

- Oh.
- Yeah.

My bad.

- Technically, I need that back.
- Okay.

Heh.

Oh, no, no, no.

This one is for you.

Oh, sh**t!

Oh, dear God.

(sobbing)

Uh...

sorry for your loss.

(sobbing)

Adam.

(shrieks)

(gasping)

Oh, my God.

I'm so sorry.

Ah.

(sobbing)

- Good to see you.
- You too.

(chuckles)

Num-num-num-num-num-num-num.

Num-num-num-num-num-num.

(chuckles)

(hypnotic music)

(upbeat electronic music)

♪ ♪

(bright pop music)

Yeah, every time

I've collaborated
with somebody before,

it's always just felt
like a compromise.

But with Brother Tim,
I don't know.

We just really click,
and, yeah,

it's like he's awakened
this part of me

that's been dormant
for so long.

It's just like
the opposite of a compromise,

you know what I mean?

Wow,
it sounds so cool.

You know I'm just talking
professionally, right?

Of course.

Hey, do you think this needs
some more pepper?

Are you sure?

'Cause if
I didn't know better,

I would say you were feeling
a little...a little something.

Oh, my God.

If I didn't know
any better...

(mocking gibberish)

Oh, is Jero
a little jealous?

(laughs)

Of course not.

♪ Little silly,
spitting sweetly ♪

♪ I will join you ♪

I love you.
You know that, right?

(sentimental music)

♪ ♪

(birds squawking)

♪ ♪

(chuckles)

(chuckles)

That's what I thought,
bitch.

Uh-huh.

(birds squawking)

(gasps)

Oh, no.

What's going on?
You okay?

Aw, your bracelet.

No bracelet.

Um, I don't know.

Did--did you, um...

I don't know,
maybe it fell off

while you were doing
your gymnastics.

I think you were actually

kind of further
over there, yeah?

Yeah, but I was over here
doing handstands and...

Okay, uh...

I can't f*cking
believe this.

Well, maybe you should
check your bag first.

What do you mean?

Well, I don't know.

Maybe you took it off first

before you did
your whole routine.

Took it off?
No.

I've never taken it off once.

Are you gonna help me?

Oh.
Sure, sorry.

Of course.

Um...wait, so you've--you've--
you've never taken it off?

No, I've never
taken it off ever.

You haven't taken it off
once ever?

I mean, it's fine
if you have, but--

You know, what's with
the third degree?

I'm not giving you
the third degree.

- You're not?
- No.

Well, it sure
feels like it.

Well, I'm giving you
amnesty.

What the hell is that
supposed to mean?

I was kind of hoping
you could tell me.

Let's see...

Okay, if you have
something to say, just say it.

Here.

Look.

You were wearing your bracelet
on this day?

Wait, hold on.
Hold on.

You're lying, Natalie.

I can see your wrist
very clearly.

No bracelet.

Stop accusing me.

You lied to me
when you said

you didn't have feelings
for this guy,

and then you lied
just now to my face

when I gave you the chance
to come clean.

How am I supposed to trust you,
Natalie?

This is why you've been
acting so distant

for the past two months?

How many times have I said,
"Jerome, are you okay?

"Jerome, is there anything
I can do to help you?

Jerome, what can I do
to make you feel better?"

You have a concern,

you bring it up
and we talk it through.

That's what adults do
in situations like this.

- You don't just...
- (groans)

Crawl into a...yeah.

Heh.
Right here.

What are you showing me?

The exit sign.

Okay, it's--

it's backwards.

So what does that tell you?

This is a selfie.

When you take a selfie,
it posts the mirror image.

So that is my right arm,

and I wear my bracelet
on my left arm.

So you still think
I'm lying?

(eerie electronic dance music)

♪ ♪

(frenetic electronic music)

♪ ♪

(funky electronic dance music)

♪ ♪

(hypnotic music)

(funky electronic music)

(gasps)

Lately, I've been
falling asleep everywhere

at random times...

(snores)

(gasps)

(car horn honks)

Except my bed at night,

where I lay awake and wish
I had someone to hold me,

staring at my phone

and listening to
the construction men outside

tearing up the street.

(metal clanks)

(phone thuds)

It's been two months
of nighttime construction work

and / years
since anyone's told me

they loved me.

My friends are the ones
who dragged me to South Beach,

saying that I never go out,

that all I do is go to work,
sit in traffic,

watch TV, and smoke weed...

(inhales nosily)

While I should be
out with them...

(exhales)

At the gym or LIV or Mansion
or the Soho Beach House

or wherever it is you meet men
that isn't an app

or a chance encounter.

Watch where you're going.

And I guess
I agree with them.

Sorry.

But, still, it doesn't mean
I have to go to the beach.

(tense electronic music)

♪ ♪

The beach is a place
for young, beautiful people

trying to show off

and old weirdo people
who've given up.

It's a place for tourists.

It's not a place
for people like me

who've lived here
their whole lives

and spent the entire night
listening to the sounds

of pavement being scraped
and scrolling through phones.

(phone thuds)

When I wake up, I have no idea
how long I've been asleep for.

(gasps)

My friends are facedown
evening out their tans,

and everyone else
seems to have

consciously turned away
from me.

But instead of wondering what
it is I'm even doing here,

I try to just open myself up
to the world,

giving into whatever it is

the universe has
in store for me,

whatever chance encounter

it's figured out
with my friends

and decided to drop down
next to me,

which is when I spot him,

sitting there in the sand
right next to me.

I wasn't trying to snoop,

but I saw him open up
a dating app

and couldn't help
but be incredibly curious,

desperate to see
his taste in women.

But it doesn't take long
before I realize

that he's not
really all that discerning,

swiping right on every picture
he sees, indicating,

"Yes, I do like you.
Yes, I am interested."

He never spends more
than ten seconds on a photo.

All he does is look, like,
and swipe, on and on.

And right as I'm about
to get bored and turn away,

I see him come across
a familiar face,

not to him, but to me,

a face I've seen
a bunch of times before

in every mirror
I've ever looked.

I stare at my digital self
for a few seconds

until I notice that,
for the first time,

he hasn't swiped right.

In fact, he hasn't swiped
anywhere at all,

his finger suspended
in the air,

his brain trying to make
the necessary connections

between neurons to decide
whether, yes, he does like me,

yes, he is interested.

And I stare and I wonder
what's taking so long.

- Is it my picture?
- (camera shutter clicks)

Does he not find me
attractive enough?

I could almost hear
his mind at work,

his lightning-fast judgments
assessing everything

from my hair to my eyes
to my chin,

and I just can't
understand it.

Do I look too much like a boy?
Is the picture too goofy?

It can't be worse than
literally every other picture.

Why do they get a pass?
Why don't I get a swipe?

Why doesn't he want me?

Is he just in a daze,

wondering over and over
and over again,

"Could I see myself
with this girl?"

(slurping)

And he waits and
he thinks and he ponders it

like a judge sentencing
someone to death,

running through a series
of criteria

buried deep in his DNA,

criteria meant to further
the population of our species.

And it's the wait
that hurts me.

It's the hesitation.

It's the fact that he needs
to be convinced.

It's the fact that
he doesn't just look at me

and immediately want me.

It's the fact
that he would be totally okay

never getting to know me.

(solemn music)

♪ ♪

And I think
about all the other men

with their high tech phones
and dating apps that swipe.

I think about
all the other men in Miami

who have rejected me,

swiping left and sending me
to some strange abyss

between the phone
and the space around it.

I think about all
my discarded digital profiles

swiped into nonexistence,
piling up into nothing.

And I think about all
the women on the other side,

the beautiful,
gorgeous blondes

on the right
of the phone

who go to the gym and Mansion
and Soho Beach House,

the women men want,

the women they don't need
to think about,

the women they see
and like and swipe

while I wait and wonder
what's wrong with me.

And of course,
at my lowest of lows,

he eventually does swipe right

without making much
of anything.

He just swipes as if to say,

"Sure, okay, I guess
I could be interested."

And it doesn't make it worse,

but it certainly doesn't
make me feel better.

Because I know
I'm not his first choice,

and I never will be.

♪ ♪

A few minutes later,
my friends get up

and their skin is pretty tan,
I guess.

We get into the car and drive
back over to Hialeah

as I replay the entire minute
in my head,

confused why I should be
so affected

by something as meaningless

as a complete stranger's
opinion of me.

On the way, we decide to stop
and get some drive-through

and then pick up weed.

I hold my phone in my hand and
wish I had someone to text.

♪ ♪

My mind drifts back over
to the last boy

that told me he loved me
and to the girl

that he's probably holding
onto right now.

♪ ♪

The beach feels
a million miles away.

♪ ♪

When I get home,
I'll be just in time

to watch
the construction workers

peel back the metal slabs
they placed on the street,

revealing the wounds
they tore into the ground.

(heavy scraping)

(funky music)

(hypnotic music)

♪ ♪

(tense electronic music)

♪ ♪

(waves whooshing)

Hey.
Hey, Natalie?

Hey, hey, hey, hey.
Hey, Natalie.

Natalie, look.
Look, I'm--I'm really sorry.

All right?
I'm so sorry.

Look--hey, can we just...

look, I--I know--I know
I'm incomplete

in a lot of ways.

I know I have a lot of issues,

but I think--I think
I can work them out.

Look.
Hey, look.

This is--this is all just
a misunderstanding.

It's not a misunderstanding.
It's a blessing.

- Hey, Natalie, I'm sorry.
- Don't touch me.

Don't follow me.
Don't call me.

Natalie!

Natalie, I love you!

Can we just ta--

Natalie, I'm sorry!

(dramatic music)

♪ ♪

(insects chirping)

♪ ♪

(birds squawking)

♪ ♪

(detector squeaking)

♪ ♪

(dull beeping)

♪ ♪

(detector squeaking)

(dull beeping)

♪ ♪

(dull beeping)

(jewelry jingles)

♪ ♪

(detector squeaking)

♪ ♪

♪ Top down, top down ♪

(Channel Tres' "Topdown")

♪ Yeah, top down, top down ♪

♪ ♪

♪ Rollin' with the top down,
top down ♪

♪ Rollin', rollin' ♪

♪ Yeah, yeah ♪

♪ Tell your man he better
pipe down, pipe down ♪

♪ Yeah ♪

♪ See me rollin'
with the top down, top down ♪

♪ Yeah, yeah ♪

- ♪ Ooh ♪
- ♪ Yeah ♪

♪ Yeah, yeah ♪

♪ Yeah ♪

- (clear music)
- ♪ Yes ♪