by Grey, R. S.
I sound nervous, and it’s because I am. What am I supposed to do with this damn juice? If I drink it, I’ll throw up. If I don’t drink it, I’ll run the risk of offending her. I’m contemplating whether I should just pour it out onto her potted plant, but what if I accidentally kill the thing?
“Ho-hum. Yes.” She sighs from inside the bathroom. “I suppose I’ll make use of you. Cassie was my old assistant, but she’s left me.”
“Did she stay at your old company?”
“No, of course not. She wanted to move to Tibet to live with the monks, and who was I to stop her? After all, I’m the one who first introduced her to Buddhism. Do you practice?”
I’m searching around for a trash can to stow my juice in when she pops her head out of the bathroom.
I jump a mile in the air.
“Practice?” I chirp. “Er…what exactly?”
“Buddhism.”
“Oh…I’ve never…”
“They call it practicing because the work is never-ending. You’ll start doing sunrise yoga with me on Tuesday mornings. It’s so good for the soul.”
“Wow. Yeah, that sounds fun.”
I have no idea what’s happening, so I just agree to everything she’s saying. Dirt juice? Great! Sunrise yoga? Count me in!
She seems to be a thousand steps ahead of me at any given moment.
“Now…where to begin,” she says, disappearing back into the bathroom. “I don’t want to ever see you wearing yellow. It’s my least favorite color.”
She returns from the bathroom in a vintage black Chanel shift dress she’s paired with leopard flats. Cartier bangles clink on her wrists. Thick black-framed glasses perch on her thin nose. She’s fabulous and terrifying. I want to run away as much as I want to find a seat and stay glued to it.
She breezes past me on the way to her standing-height desk. It’s then that I notice there is not a single chair in her entire office.
“My hours are erratic,” she says, starting to type on her keyboard. “I don’t believe in nine to five. I let my body dictate my schedule. Look at the walls—do you see a clock in here?” After I shake my head, she continues. “That’s because time is a social construct.”
I feel like I should be writing this down—no clocks, no yellow—but I don’t have a pen or paper, just the clunky poster boards I shift under my arms as Elise continues a rambling diatribe that seems to have no end in sight.
It’s going to be a long day.
* * *
“To Maddie and another day surviving the madness!” Mia says, holding up her beer.
“To Madison!” Blythe choruses.
“She’ll be picking up the tab tonight,” Mia says with a cheeky smile.
“No, she will not be,” I retort. “But nice try. Just because I have a new boss to take orders from doesn’t mean I get a raise.”
Since it’s Wednesday night, Flying Saucer is packed. My friends and I are in our usual booth, ready to defend our title of trivia champs three weeks running.
I sip my beer and glance up, fidgeting in my seat as I wait for Aiden to arrive. He usually beats me here, but not tonight. My eyes are trained on the door, and my breath catches in my chest when I spot him.
He holds the door open for two girls to walk in ahead of him, backlit by the yellow glow of the streetlights outside. The girls aim huge smiles his way, and one of them says something. She’s probably thanking him for holding the door, but then he nods his head in the direction of our table and her smile falls. So it was an invitation to join them then? For some reason, the thought irks me. With Aiden, it’s always like that. For him, the world is a perpetual bread basket of options.
I avert my attention to my beer as he heads over, pretending to be totally unaware of his arrival until he’s right at our booth.
“Sorry I’m late,” Aiden says, holding up a grocery bag I hadn’t noticed before. “I had to stop at the store on my way.”
“What’s in there?” Mia asks, peering inside.
“A gift for Maddie,” he says, aiming a cheeky smile my way before shoving the bag in front of me.
Inside, I find chocolates. Not just any chocolates—a Whitman’s Sampler. It’s my favorite guilty pleasure. Every Christmas when I was growing up, my grandmother would gift my parents a box. They’d share it with my sister and me, but we were only ever allowed to have one chocolate a day. Aiden knows that every now and then, when I pass the boxes in the grocery store, I’ll greedily shove one into my cart, knowing how much freedom comes from having the entire thing all to myself.
“What’s the gift for?” Blythe asks.
“Maddie and I got into a fight this morning,” Aiden says, waving his hand so Mia and I will shove over. He takes the seat beside me in the booth, crowding me so I’m forced to smell him. His scent is a combination of his deodorant and body wash and aftershave. It’s slightly spicy with a touch of pine that I can’t get enough of. I inhale deep.
“A lovers’ quarrel?” Blythe teases.
I stick my tongue out at her then make quick work of wrapping up the sampler in the grocery bag again so none of them try to steal a piece. My parents might have shared theirs, but there’s no way I will.
Aiden nudges me with his shoulder.
“Forgive me?” he says, staring down at me. His eyes are the lightest green. His hair is tousled from work, inky black and flopping over his forehead. His permanent dimples tease me into relenting.
“All’s forgiven.”
Blythe clears her throat, and I move away from him.
Everyone is glancing at one another, having silent conversations. They do this a lot with Aiden and me. We’ve been down this road before. Blythe and Mia love to corner me in the bathroom and ask point-blank if I have feelings for Aiden. I deny it. Always deny it. Feigning complete obliviousness like, Aiden is hot? What? You think I like him? Noooo.
I know they all talk about me behind my back. I know they think it’s pathetic that I’ve been silently in love with him for this long and haven’t done anything about it. My cheeks heat up and I reach for my beer. They don’t understand. Aiden and I walk a tightrope. He’s not just my best friend. He’s not just my roommate. He’s not just related through marriage. It’s all of those complicated strings tangled together to form the world’s tightest knot around my heart. Screw things up with him, bare my soul, and get rejected? Then what? Where do we go from there?
Chapter Four
Maddie
“So then I had to force her to try a dress that was a little more formfitting and guess what?!”
There’s a long pause as my sister stops talking.
Oh, shoot. She’s expecting me to actually guess.
“She loved it?” I venture tentatively.
“She loved it!” she confirms.
Phew. I was barely listening. That was a close one. I don’t normally make a habit of ignoring my sister; it’s just that she called during the worst time. I just left the salon after fitting in a quick haircut after work, and I’m walking home to the condo. City noise is a nightmare, and my brain is scrambled from trying to keep up with Elise and her wild ramblings all day.
My sister calls me once a week, every Thursday, so we can catch up, but it’s really a ruse. There’s no catching up; there’s just Jolie talking about Jolie.
She owns a bridal boutique in Highland Park, precisely three blocks from our childhood home. She absolutely loves it, and the women who come in love her right back. I doubt there’s a bride in Dallas who doesn’t make a point to go to her shop while shopping for a wedding dress. She flies to Paris twice a year for Bridal Fashion Week and prides herself on having all the latest styles. Vera Wang put out a list of her top bridal boutique recommendations across the United States and my sister’s shop made the cut. Business has been booming ever since, and my sister has been busier than ever. Did I mention she also now has a kiddo on the way to boot? Talk about checking off all of life’s little boxes.
She’s still telling the
same story from earlier about the woman and the wedding dress. I feel like I’ve heard it a million times before. Bride comes in, she wants a certain style, Jolie talks her into something else, lo and behold, the bride credits Jolie with single-handedly making her wedding day spectacular.
I unlock the door of my condo and kick it open with my foot. I can’t use my hands because they’re laden with things from Elise. I have two shopping bags full of stuff she wanted me to take home from work.
Aiden is on our couch, computer open on his lap, pencil between his teeth. Cole is here with him. That happens sometimes. Aiden invites writers from Texas Monthly over to our place when they’re working on a story together. Cole looks up and smiles in greeting, but Aiden’s still typing and therefore hasn’t realized I’m home. When he’s writing, he completely zones out the rest of the world. Usually, I find it to be an endearing trait. Right now, I’m annoyed that he’s not acting as my scapegoat.
“Hey Aiden, yes! I just got home!” I say aloud for my sister’s benefit.
He stops typing and looks up at me. The pencil drops from his mouth.
Oh right, Elise had me put on makeup this afternoon during a meeting she had with Austin Organics. They’re a local vegan cosmetics company, and their marketing team brought in products for her to test so she could get a feel for their brand. I was at my desk, responding to emails when she snapped her fingers and told me to follow her. From there, Elise proceeded to use me as a guinea pig during the meeting and I worried I’d come out of the room looking like a clown, but they actually did a really good job. Their tinted beeswax lip balm made my lips look lush without becoming annoyingly sticky, and the all-natural blush set off my cheekbones even more than usual.
I forgot to wash it all off, and Aiden’s blinking at me in surprise.
“Oh perfect!” Jolie says. “Aiden’s home? Put me on speaker, will you?”
I do as she says, and her chipper voices rings out through our living room.
“Hi Aiden!”
“Hey Jolie,” he says, dropping his computer onto the cushion beside him and pushing to stand. He’s headed my way, studying my face. His eyes are crinkled at the edges.
He doesn’t stop until he’s a foot away from me. We’re toe to toe with my phone held out between us. Aiden reaches out to finger the end of my blonde hair, and I realize it’s his way of letting me know he noticed I got a haircut. I’m a little surprised. It’s not all that different than it was before; they only chopped off a few inches.
“So James and I were planning to come down to Austin this weekend to see you guys,” Jolie announces. “I’ve made reservations for Saturday evening at Otoko on South Congress. Does that sound good?”
“Sure,” Aiden says, catching my gaze.
I stifle a sigh and squeeze my eyes closed. Dinner will be exhausting.
When I peek my eyes open again, Aiden is still watching me, his head tilted to the side, his dark brows crinkled.
I shake my head to let him know it’s fine that he agreed. It’s not that hard spending time with Jolie and James. Not really. I confirm with Jolie that dinner on Saturday will be great. After I’m off the phone, Cole stands to join us, and I finally have a chance to say hello to him.
We hug, which feels a little awkward, but I’m not sure what other greeting to do. We dated for a few months a while back. Physically, we didn’t even make it past first base, but I’m not sure Aiden knows that. He’s glancing between us, probably trying to read the tension, or lack thereof.
“What’s in the shopping bags?” Cole asks.
I laugh and glance down to where I dropped them at my feet. “Gifts and free samples courtesy of the new head of creative at Zilker.”
“There’s a yoga mat in here,” he says, sounding shocked as he peers inside.
“Yeah, and a new set of yoga clothes from Alo. Apparently she doesn’t want me embarrassing her by showing up to yoga in a ratty tank top.”
Aiden smirks at my quip.
“I haven’t eaten yet—have y’all?”
“We were going to order pizza, but then Aiden got to writing and left me high and dry.”
I shoot Aiden an admonishing glare. “That’s not the way to treat a guest.”
He drags his hand through his hair and shrugs as if to say, Deal with it.
“I’m too hungry to wait for delivery, but I can pop a frozen pizza in the oven if that’s okay with you guys.”
Cole nods and follows me around the island. “That’s great. Here, I can help.”
“She likes cooking,” Aiden says, taking a seat on a stool at the island. “And she’ll get nasty if you try to get in her way.”
It’s true. Aiden and I have worked out a system. I cook. He cleans up afterward. We’ve tried cooking together and it just gets annoying because I’m kind of a control freak when it comes to the kitchen. Even so, I don’t have the heart to tell Cole I don’t want his help, so I suggest he open some wine.
“You could probably use a drink if you’ve been putting up with Aiden all evening.”
In response to this, Aiden leans forward to prop his elbow on the island then drops his chin onto his hand. He arches a brow as if to tell me I’m walking on thin ice. Proceed with caution.
I stick out my tongue at him, and Cole laughs.
“Yeah, well, you know him better than anyone. Do you want me to open this bottle of red or the white?”
“She likes white, especially in summer.”
It’s true, but Cole looks over at Aiden with a funny glance.
I choose to ignore it, instead focusing on preheating the oven and reaching into the cupboard for three wine glasses. Aiden doesn’t love wine, but he’ll drink it if I pour him some. I think he knows I hate drinking alone, and most of the time he puts up with it for a sip or two.
“So how have you been lately, Maddie?” Cole asks. “You look great.”
I laugh, feeling as though I’ve been put on the spot. “Oh, thanks. That’s nice of you to say. They tried some makeup on me at work and I haven’t had time to wash it off.”
I can’t make myself look at Aiden. I’m desperate to know what he thinks of me and the makeup and Cole’s compliment. It’s safer to keep my attention on Cole.
“Seeing anyone new?”
I’m immediately reminded of my argument with Aiden yesterday. I don’t feel like revisiting that territory, so I just shake my head. “No. What about you? Any new girls in your life?”
He rubs the back of his neck and huffs out a breath as if exhausted by the idea of dating. “I joined Tinder, but it’s not really working out.”
“Really? Aiden doesn’t think I should download it.”
“It sounds bad when you say it like that,” Aiden says, defending himself.
“What do you mean? Why?” Cole asks.
I finally give in to the urge to glance at Aiden. He’s looking at the bottle of wine in Cole’s hands, avoiding me.
“He says it’s because he doesn’t want a bunch of random guys coming in and out of our condo.”
“You could always just go to the guy’s place,” Cole points out.
He makes a good point.
“True, and it’s not as if Aiden doesn’t have girls parading in and—”
“Are you going to open that any time soon?” Aiden asks, pushing off his stool to take the bottle out of Cole’s hands. He tries to brush past me to get to the wine key in the drawer I’m standing in front of, but I don’t bother moving to let him by. I’m curious about his mood.
He gives me a mocking glance when I continue to block his way.
I mimic him.
His lips tip into a smirk, and I cross my arms.
Then, fed up with me, he puts the wine bottle on the island, places his hands on my hips, and pivots me around so he can push me back against the counter opposite where I was. I don’t think he meant to put as much force behind it as he does, because I knock against a plate and it rattles in the quiet kitchen. My heart hammers in my chest a
nd my eyes flare up at him. He’s still touching me, his hands at my waist.
An invisible string pulls taut between us and I swear he’s about to say something to me, in front of Cole, but then he shakes his head and turns to retrieve the wine opener.
I’m too embarrassed to look at Cole.
He must think we’re so weird, and it’s true. We are. We’re at once an old married couple and complete strangers. We know so much about each other—tics, habits, patterns of life—but I don’t know what his lips feel like. I’ve never felt the weight of him pinning me down onto a bed, his hands on me, between my thighs.
I let Cole and Aiden get back to work after the pizza comes out of the oven. I retreat to the confines of my room and try to use my door to shove Aiden out of my thoughts. This space is my solace. There’s none of him in here, no stray black hairs or empty coffee cups or sharpened pencils.
* * *
Friday is a blur of activity as I continue getting the lay of the land with Elise. She made me move to a small desk adjacent to her office. I have a snazzy new computer and a slew of crystals arranged at precise locations behind my monitor.
“Do not move them,” she warned me. “It’ll throw off your chakras.”
At lunch, I accidentally knock one over onto the floor. The sound it makes is so ominous, I half expect the building to come down around me.
With wide eyes, I whip around to face Elise’s office, but thankfully, she’s inside talking on the phone while bouncing up and down on a huge blue exercise ball. Relieved she didn’t catch me damaging her property and my chakras, I get on all fours and crawl toward the crystal, careful not to bump it against anything as I lift it back onto my desk like it’s my most prized possession.
Dan’s there waiting for me as I straighten up onto my knees. He’s a few feet away, his hands on his hips, his eyes crinkled at the edges. He’s deeply amused to have found me in this compromising position.
“My crystal fell,” I explain, as if that makes sense to anyone outside the la-la land Elise inhabits.