by Lucy Eden
“Look.” Chris sighed, sensing my disappointment, but not knowing the reason. “I know it may not be what you were expecting, and Culver City is a wildly expensive place to live, but, Jordyn, you’re really talented. This is the best we can offer right now, but this is a really welcoming bunch of people and I’m sure we can help you figure out a way to make it work.”
“Thank you.” I smiled and nodded.
“Well, usually this is the part where I introduce you to our CEO—”
My heart sped up and I began taking slow calming breaths. I looked to the door of Chris’ office, expecting Mike to walk through it.
“—but he took a rare personal day today, so I will have to catch him up on everything tomorrow. But we’ll need a decision from you in a week, sooner if you can swing it.”
“Thank you.”
10
My Uber, which was actually an Uber, passed the bookstore on the way back to the apartment. I was hit by a sudden urge to go inside, but I restrained myself.
The interview had gone better than expected, but I knew in my gut that I wouldn’t be able to work so close to Mike.
Grayson Technology paid for three food trucks to park outside the offices and provide free lunches for its employees. Chris encouraged me to take something to go after my interview. So, I ordered something from each truck.
Back at the apartment, I decided to skip the grilled cheese and bacon sandwich and the fish tacos and go straight for the bag of beignets. After artfully arranging them on a plate, I snapped a photo, adjusted the settings, and posted it to my feed with the caption:
LA Beignet. #Thebeignettruck
After taking the first bite, I closed my eyes and moaned, it was so good. My fingers were already greasy and my blazer was covered in powdered sugar, but I didn’t care. Right on schedule, there were two alerts:
JordynsDrMomma liked your photo.
JordynsDrMomma commented: Ooooo, those look so good! I haven’t had a good beignet since Essencefest in 2009. @CookieTurner193 Remember those beignets we had at that place in New Orleans.
A few seconds later:
CookieTurner193 commented: @JordynsDrMomma Yes, girl. I still think about those beignets. We have to go back. Hey, Jordyn! Good luck on your interview!
I shook my head and snorted a laugh. My mom had tagged my aunt Cookie, whose name was actually Sandra, in the comments, and those two would probably chat back and forth in my mentions before calling each other on the phone and talking for three hours.
My thoughts drifted to Mike, and I wondered why he hadn’t come to work. If this was his plan to avoid me, what would he do if I accepted the position?
“We sign a disclosure form and avoid each other like the plague.”
I typed his Instagram handle into the search bar and almost dropped my phone when I saw that his profile was no longer set to private. He’d also changed his bio:
Mike (He/Him/His)
Brother. Son. Friend. Large Child. Master of Disguise. Kiss Thief. Hopeful Romantic.
The latest post in the top left corner of the grid was the video I recorded of him dancing in the fountain. I’d already seen that live and was way too curious about what other things Mike would post on his feed. I scrolled through pictures of him with his friends, gorgeous pictures of LA, and vacation photos from all around the world. There were pictures of his family. The Graysons took glamorous, Kardashian-style holiday photos every year and Mike looked almost exactly like his father, but he had his mother’s dark hair and eyes. Laura, while gorgeous, more closely resembled Mike and their dad. Erica looked like a carbon copy of their mom, who didn’t look like she’d aged much since her pageant days. There were throwback pictures of Mike’s grandmother, and an adorable photo of Mike when he was about five or six in full makeup, wearing a pageant crown and a sash.
As I scrolled through the entire feed—yes, the entire feed—I hardly saw any mention of Mike’s company, or the fact that Mike’s family was really rich. When I reached the bottom, I saw that most of the first twenty or so pictures were of pairs of expensive sneakers. I smiled to myself. Mike was a reformed sneakerhead. I tapped to expand the photo and was attempting to scroll down to see the date when a giant white heart quickly flashed on my phone screen.
Shit. Shit. Shit.
Did I like that picture?
I did.
I just liked a six-year-old Instagram photo.
I couldn’t unlike it because he would still get a notification. I picked up a second beignet and shoved it in my mouth, hoping to quell the embarrassment of getting caught cyberstalking my potential new boss. It was starting to work when I saw I had another notification.
MikeGrayson4 started following you.
MikeGrayson4 wants to send you a message.
I opened the message from Mike. It was one word:
BUSTED.
I rolled my eyes and laughed.
I responded with a gif of Dave Chapelle knocking over a pitcher of water as a distraction and running away.
Mike responded almost immediately.
Come to the bookstore.
I sighed and stared at my phone’s screen before typing:
I don’t think that’s a good idea.
Another immediate response came.
It’s a very bad idea, but I’m gonna wait there all day until you show up.
I took another bite of my beignet while I thought about what I was going to do. I went back to Mike’s feed and clicked on the video. He was dancing half-naked in the fountain to cheers and applause. The phone was shaking so badly, and I could hear myself screeching with laughter.
Ugh, is that really what my laugh sounds like?
The video ended with Mike walking out of the fountain towards the camera, shaking himself dry like a dog. I read the video’s caption:
Best Three Years of My Life
Saturday was the best three years of my life too.
Dammit, Mike. Of course, I’m gonna go to the bookstore.
I finished my beignet, liked the post, and left a comment.
See you soon.
I ran to the bookstore and threw the door open, panting and out of breath. Mike had his back turned when I walked in, and he was talking to a woman. My heart thudded and stopped. I was contemplating backing out of the store when I recognized her as the woman who was working at the store the day we met. She pointed at me and Mike turned to look.
His face lit up and he took long strides to close the distance between us.
“Hi,” he said and grinned.
“Hi,” I replied, before I saw his smile falter.
“Aw, man. I missed beignet day?”
“What? How did you—”
His eyes flicked to my blazer that was lightly dusted with powdered sugar. I looked down and smiled, noticing that I had done the best job dusting myself off before I ran out of the apartment.
“They’re pretty good.” I shrugged.
“I can tell.” He smiled and reached to wipe my face before pausing. “May I?”
I nodded, and Mike brushed his thumb across my cheek. His touch radiated warmth to every part of my body.
“Thank you,” I whispered.
“Thank you for coming.”
“So…why did you want me to meet you here?”
“Well, I missed you.”
I was dying to tell him that I missed him, too, but instead, I said, “Is that why you didn’t come to the office?”
He nodded. “I was also working on an important project, which is the other reason I wanted you to meet me.”
“Okay?”
Mike took a deep breath and wiped a hand over his face. “I wanna fight for you, Jordyn.”
“What?” I spluttered. “Fight for me?”
“Yeah. I heard about your interview. Chris has called me three times. They sent me your programming test scores and want me to sign off on a higher salary offer in case you try to turn down the job.”
Whoa. I hadn’t realized the intervi
ew went that well.
“So, why are you telling me this? This is good, right?”
“Not for me.” He reached up and scratched the back of his head. “I’m really trying to be a good guy here but I know I couldn’t handle seeing you in the office and not being with you. I even asked my lawyer about the legal ramifications of dating an employee.”
“And?”
“She said that it technically wasn’t illegal, but was incredibly ill-advised.”
“So, my options are one, accept my dream job at GrayTech—which I now know I can negotiate a higher salary for—while making both of us miserable or risking an HR nightmare, and two, go home to New York without a job and put thousands of miles between us.”
“What if there was a third option?”
“I’m listening.”
“Chris gave you a week to accept the position?”
I nodded.
“Why don’t you stay in Culver City and keep looking for a different job? If you find something better, awesome. If you don’t, take the job at GrayTech.”
A hysterical chuckle bubbled out of my chest at Mike’s suggestion.
“A week? Seriously. Do you know how long it took me to get this interview? And you expect me to find something else—something better—in a week.”
Mike had gone oddly quiet and was wearing a guilty expression.
“What?” I asked and narrowed my eyes.
“I might have emailed a couple of my friends and sent them your CV.”
“Might have?”
“You have two interviews next week,” he said in a sigh. His phone pinged in his pocket. He pulled it out and checked the screen. “Three.”
“Mike, seriously.” I crossed my arms over my chest and glared at him. “That is some serious alphahole bullshit.”
“I know, but I had to do something. I’ve never felt this way about anyone before. I can’t let you go without knowing that I tried everything.”
“You should have asked me first.”
“I know.” He bit his bottom lip, and his eyes seemed to be searching my face for a reaction. I know I should have been more upset at him, but I wasn’t. I wanted the job at GrayTech, but I wanted Mike more, which didn’t make sense. No amount of logical reasoning would justify giving up the opportunity of a lifetime for a man who’d spent a day sweeping me off my feet.
I uncrossed my arms and walked to a couch that was sitting in the middle of the store and sank into it. I stared at a colorful display of floating books, suspended from the ceiling and tried to make sense of the last three days. This wasn’t an algorithm I could search for errors. This was real and messy and confusing. Mike followed me and lowered himself onto the cushion next to me. We sat in silence for a few moments before he moved closer to me.
“Hey, talk to me. Tell me what you’re thinking.” He smoothed his palm over my back and flooded my chest with warmth.
“I’ve probably read a hundred books where this exact thing happens and now it’s happening to me and I don’t know how to feel.”
“Same. I was raised by people this exact thing happened to and I’m just as confused.”
“We’re not in love, right?” I wasn’t sure if I was talking to Mike or myself.
“I don’t know if we’re in love, but I know whenever I’m with you, I’m really happy, and when I’m not with you, I’m really sad.” He tapped me on the shoulder and I turned to look at him. “Jordyn, I don’t like being sad.”
I snorted a laugh and shook my head.
“We barely know each other.”
“I don’t know if I agree with that, but you could spend a week getting to know me while you go to interviews.” He raised a hopeful eyebrow.
“If I went on those interviews, I’d be condoning your terrible behavior.”
“I would do a million terrible things for you, baby doll.”
I smiled at him.
“Well, my flight leaves tomorrow, and I’d have to find another place to stay.”
“Reschedule your flight and stay with me.”
“I’m not moving in with you.”
“Whoa, calm down. We’ve only known each other for three days. My parents were dating for five days before they moved in together. Let’s not jump the gun.”
“You are such a goofball.” I placed my hand on his cheek, which was now covered in the beginnings of a beard, threatening to bury my dimples. Mike leaned closer.
“Is that a good thing?” He pressed our foreheads together.
Mike’s proposition offered the perfect solution. I flew to California hoping to start over in a new city. That didn’t hinge on my working for one particular company. If life is an unpredictable leap of faith, then new Jordyn was ready to jump.
“I don’t know. Let’s see how this week goes.”
His face spread into a wide grin. “Really?”
I nodded and rubbed our noses together.
“Mike?”
“Yes, Jordyn?”
“I’m reinstating my blanket consent for kisses.”
My real life book boyfriend huffed out a chuckle and pressed our lips together. He pulled away after a few moments and licked his lips.
“I love beignet day.”
* * *
THE END
Epilogue
Jordyn was still asleep when I woke up. I watched her for a few minutes, like I did almost every morning, before I pulled out my nose clip and went to the kitchen to attempt to make breakfast.
Within twenty minutes, I managed to burn everything and set off the smoke alarm, which caused her to run into the kitchen still wearing her silk turban—a gift from my mom—and one of my t-shirts.
“Baby.” She coughed. “What in the hell…” She waved the smoke away from her face before grabbing the broom from the closet and fanning the smoke alarm until the beeping stopped.
She was trying to stifle a laugh when I walked up to her, lifted her onto the kitchen counter and kissed her.
“Happy one-year anniversary.” I shrugged, making her snort laugh and kiss me again.
“How did you grow up in a house with four women and never learn to cook?”
“That’s sexist.” I nuzzled her neck with my nose, inhaling the scent of the remnants of her face cream. “And we had a chef.”
“I’m gonna order waffles.” She scooted off the counter with a faint squeaking sound and ran into our bedroom to grab her phone.
I quickly scraped the burnt eggs and bacon into the trash and walked into our bathroom to find her brushing her teeth. I grabbed my toothbrush.
“Hey, do you have to work today?” I said as I was squeezing toothpaste onto my brush.
“No, you asked me to take today off.” She leaned over and spit into the sink and turned on the faucet.
After getting two competitive job offers, Jordyn ended up at Logiq, a company that designs music software, run by one of my old CalTech classmates, a ballbuster who never misses an opportunity to thank me for not hiring Jordyn myself.
We’d been living together ever since.
“Did you order waffles yet?” I asked after I spit my mouthwash into the sink.
“No, I was waiting for you.” She smiled as she walked past me.
I grabbed a handful of her ass and followed her out of the bathroom. She spun to face me, grabbed my collar, pulled me down for a kiss, and walked me towards the bed.
“I love you.” She looked up at me as she inched backwards onto the bed.
“I love you, too.” I pulled her t-shirt off and crawled on top of her. She pulled her silk cap off to reveal a cascade of shiny dark brown curls.
“Come here.” She crooked a finger at me and I moved over her, planting a kiss on every square inch of her perfect body until our lips met.
“Hey, I’ve been thinking…”
“I thought I smelled something burning.” She narrowed her eyes and grinned at me.
“That was breakfast.” I tickled her. “Listen, what if…we didn’t use a condom
today?”
She raised an eyebrow, but she didn’t look upset.
“Or tonight, or tomorrow…” I continued.
“Mike, do you wanna try for a baby?”
“Yes. Do you want to try for a baby?” I searched her face for a reaction. She was gazing up at me, wearing one of her mischievous smiles, but she still hadn’t answered me.
“Jordyn?”
“Do you think we’re ready for a baby?”
I nodded and kissed her.
“Okay.” She reached up and traced one of my dimples with her finger.
“Really?”
“Really.”
I lowered myself onto her and covered her neck and collarbone with kisses. Jordyn tangled her fingers in my hair as I moved down her body. I sucked one of her dark brown nipples into my mouth and pressed my teeth into the pebbled bud, making her moan. I loved moving over her, teasing, tantalizing, and exploring; playing her body like an instrument of pleasure.
After I’d made her come with my mouth and fingers, I freed myself from my boxers and slid into her slowly, the way I knew she wanted. Jordyn coiled herself around my body and rocked her hips in synergy with my thrusts. She felt so good, and I couldn’t believe she was mine. The instant I saw her in that bookstore, I knew she was special, and the more time I spent with her, the more I knew I couldn’t let her go.
“Fuck, Jordyn. I fucking love you so much.” I clutched fistfuls of our sheets, trying to hold on for a little bit longer and delay the inevitable. She arched her back and moaned in response. She began spasming, and I couldn’t hold on. I exploded into her, rode the waves of her orgasm and collapsed on top of her, sweaty and exhausted. She wrapped her arms around my back and placed a delicate kiss on my nose.
“Hey, babe.”
“Yes, gorgeous?”
“I think I’m pregnant.”
“I don’t think it works that fast,” I mumbled into her chest.
She giggled. “No, I think it worked in the coat closet at your parents’ anniversary party.”