Make Up Break Up

by Lily Menon

  Annika set her margarita down slowly, her heart thumping. A large, noisy group of people walked past her, bumping her chair, but she barely noticed. “What did she say, June?”

  June grinned. “She said yes, Annika. You’re going to be in Time! Make Up is going to be in Time!” She paused. “I haven’t told Ziggy. And I figured I’d leave it to you to break the news to Hudson.”

  Annika snorted. “First I have to come up with a few strategies to offset whatever he’s going to lob my way at the interview. You know he’s going to put up a fight, especially now that we’re elbowing our way in there, too.”

  June patted her arm. “You can handle him. You always do. So what if it’s Time?”

  Annika stared at her, shaking her head. “Time fucking magazine,” she whispered, her mouth going dry as the realization fully hit. “Oh my god.”

  “The interview’s in about two weeks,” June said. “So we just need to get you in tip-top shape before then. Emily said she’d send a few of the questions over this week, so I figure we can practice until you’re super-polished. This is going to be so good for EPIC in June. It’s going to put us on the map, right beside Break Up!”

  Annika raised her glass. “To you, Junebug.”

  June clinked her glass against Annika’s. “To kicking Break Up’s ass.”

  Annika laughed. “To taking over the fucking world.”

  chapter ten

  It was Friday after work, which meant one thing: date night. June glanced at the clock. “Five-thirty!” she announced, beaming as she turned off her monitor and grabbed the purse hanging on the back of her chair. “You going to get ready for Alesandro soon?” She said his name with a flourish, rolling her r.

  Annika laughed and looked at her best friend over her laptop screen. “Yeah, soon. I’m going to work on this pitch for a little while longer, though.”

  “Mmkay.” June walked over and kissed her on the cheek. She had a date with Ziggy that night, but unlike Annika—who had to dress to impress on this first date—she was dressed in jeans and a peasant top. “Have fun and text me to tell me how it’s going, if you get a chance.”

  “Okay, you have fun, too. Tell Ziggy I said hi.”

  June waggled her fingers and walked down to the elevators. A moment later, Annika heard Ziggy say she looked beautiful. She turned back to her computer.

  The sky outside got darker and darker as she worked, the evening settling in for good. Finally, once she’d gotten to a good stopping point, Annika turned off her laptop and rolled her wrists. She walked to the storage closet to grab her date-night clothes and makeup and headed to the bathroom. She was going to keep her expectations low this time, she decided, and hope to be pleasantly surprised.

  Annika kept her head high as she walked past the Break Up office. She could see a light on in Hudson’s office through the glass door, but his door was closed. Good. Maybe she could get dressed and out of here before he saw her.

  But when it came to Hudson, things never worked out quite how she thought they would.

  She ran into him in the hallway on the way back from the bathroom, where she’d changed into a black bodycon dress with sparkly spaghetti straps and a low back, which she’d paired with red stilettos. He was wearing faded jeans and a Break Up T-shirt. She felt massively overdressed and, somehow, completely vulnerable.

  Hudson looked her up and down, his eyes going dark. Her stomach flipped. “You have your date tonight.”

  It wasn’t a question, so Annika didn’t say anything.

  “I would say have fun, but I wouldn’t mean it.” He stepped closer and she smelled the warm fragrance of his skin wrap around her like a cloak.

  The hallway was empty, like the rest of the building. Most people cut out early on Fridays, but not her. Not Hudson.

  “Why not?” she demanded. The slight tremble in her voice was, she hoped, easily masked by false confidence.

  He ran a feather-light finger down her chandelier earring, making it bounce. Annika’s heart pounded, as if it were trying to escape her chest. “I think you know the answer to that question, Ms. Dev.”

  Annika mustered a response, a mixture of defiance and desire warring inside her. “I really don’t. Now, if you’ll excuse me.” But she didn’t move to brush past him, even though she knew she should.

  He leaned in close, dipping his head so his mouth was at her ear. His breath tickled her ear, raising goose bumps on her arms and legs. “If it were up to me, I’d pick you up and take you into my office right now. That dress wouldn’t last ten seconds.”

  Annika swallowed, the sound thunderous in her ears. Her own pulse racing, she put one hand over Hudson’s heart. Her hand looked ridiculous, small and inconsequential on the broad span of his chest. She could feel his heart pounding, heavy and strong. His pupils dilated at her touch. “I have a date with someone else,” she said, her voice a touch shaky. “This is completely inappropriate.”

  He ran a finger along her collarbone, leaving a trail of fire in its wake. She closed her eyes. “I would buy that if you weren’t trembling under my hand.” His voice was husky, barely controlled. “You seem … confused about me.” His finger traced over her shoulder, down her arm. “Am I wrong?”

  She wasn’t breathing in a normal, controlled manner anymore. “Alesandro,” she gasped, somewhat incoherently. “Neon. I have to go.” And she forced herself to turn and walk away, feeling the heat of his gaze on her back.

  * * *

  As Annika’s Lyft driver—she figured she’d be drinking tonight and didn’t want to drive—pulled up to Neon, a flurry of butterflies swooped in her stomach at the memory of running into Hudson in the hallway. But she commanded them to get their shit together, got out of her Lyft, and looked at the bright, trendy exterior of the restaurant. It wasn’t surprising that the crowd waiting to get in spilled out onto the sidewalk, especially on a Friday night.

  She pushed the door open with a renewed purpose, smoothed down her LBD, and scanned the crowded interior for anyone matching the one picture she’d seen. There were neon lights around the bar, outlining the floor that led down to the main seating area. Large metal sculptures hung from the ceiling, also highlighted with bright pink neon lights. The crowd was loud and hip—mostly young professionals who were gearing up for the weekend, and a few well-dressed couples in their twenties and thirties. Annika’s stomach rumbled as a waiter passed by her with a platter of grilled vegetables and bowls of soup, the savory smells flooding her senses.

  “Hi.” A young waitress, her arms covered in tattoos of the Mad Hatter, approached Annika. “Looking for someone?”

  “Yeah, I think the reservation’s under Alesandro Makos?”

  “Your party’s already waiting. Follow me.”

  Annika followed, feeling a spasm of nerves at having to sit through yet another first date that would probably be just as tiring as all the other ones before it. Why had she agreed to this after a long day at work? The brain-scrambling interlude with Hudson certainly hadn’t helped. She was suddenly afraid she’d forgotten to refresh her deodorant, but a quick sniff told her she was okay. Smiling, the waitress stepped out of the way and Annika saw the man from June’s cell phone photo.

  He was dressed in a crisp pink button-down and dinner jacket, his long fingers drumming on the table. He looked around, checked his phone, and set it back down.

  He was built long and lean, with a narrow face. He was tall, but his shoulders weren’t quite broad, and his arms were slender. He was completely unlike Hudson—at least, physically.

  Annika frowned. Comparing Alesandro to Hudson was unproductive.

  Releasing a breath, she walked forward and held out her hand. “Alesandro? I’m Annika.”

  His hand was powder-smooth, his handshake firm. “Hi,” he said, smiling broadly to reveal a set of very straight white teeth. “So nice to meet you.”

  “You too.” She took a seat, and the waitress handed her a menu.

  “Can I start you off with some
drinks?” the waitress asked, looking between them.

  “A chardonnay for me, please,” Annika said.

  “I’ll have the same,” Alesandro added.

  “Of course. I’ll be right back with those.”

  “So.” Annika smiled resolutely. She was going to give this a fair shake, dammit. “Did you … have a good day at work? June tells me you own a bakery?”

  “I do.” Alesandro nodded several times, as if Annika had said something fascinating. “We specialize in traditional Greek desserts. Our baklavas were featured in the city paper recently. We got five omelets.” Seeing Annika’s confusion, he added, “That’s their rating system—omelets instead of stars.”

  They laughed, and Annika couldn’t help but realize Alesandro had a very warm smile. “Well, that’s fantastic,” she said. “Congratulations.”

  The waitress returned with their wine in miniature wooden wine barrels that had the Neon logo stamped on the side. Alesandro swirled his around and smelled it before taking a small sip.

  “Are you ready to order?” the waitress asked, pulling a notebook from the pocket of her sleek black leather apron.

  Annika’s stomach rumbled again at the mention of food. “Yes. I’ll have the large tofu bowl with tahini dressing.”

  The waitress turned to Alesandro, who was closing his menu. “I’ll have the pasta carbonara with a basket of breadsticks and a side of fresh fruit. And could you please bring me the brownie sundae for dessert as well?”

  “Coming right up.” Smiling, the waitress took their menus and walked off.

  Alesandro turned to Annika. “I’m carb-loading for the marathon I’m running tomorrow.”

  “Oh, you’re a marathon runner!” Annika exclaimed. “That explains your—” A warmth crept to her cheeks. What she’d been about to say made her sound like a total perv. “Your, um, physique.”

  Alesandro beamed, as if he was pleased and not at all weirded out that she’d noticed and commented on his body. “Yes,” he said, smiling gaily. “I’m definitely built like a runner. What about you? Do you run?”

  Annika laughed. “Oh, no. I tried it once and couldn’t take the feeling of my lungs about to explode. I do yoga, actually.”

  “Ah. Yoga.” Alesandro closed his eyes for a moment, as if taking a moment to appreciate yoga in all its nuances. When he opened them again, he added, “I love yoga. I do it every morning on my balcony.”

  “Oh.” Annika smiled. In her experience, most men had a pretty condescending view of yoga, or only did it under duress. Like Hudson. “I do too, actually.”

  They smiled at each other for a moment, and then Alesandro asked, “So, tell me. I hear you’re a business owner yourself. How’s that going?”

  Annika took a sip of her wine; it was cool and crisp, exactly what she needed. “I don’t know who I’d be without my business. You know? It’s like a calling. Maybe that’s silly to say if you aren’t, like, a doctor or nun or something, but—”

  “No, I totally get it,” Alesandro said earnestly, one hand around his wine barrel. The back of his hand was covered in black hair. “I’ve known I wanted to own a Greek bakery ever since my parents got me a play kitchen when I was three.”

  Annika laughed. “That’s amazing. What sorts of things did you bake in your play kitchen?”

  “Oh, I made the best imaginary baklava and basbousa, hands down. I even got stellar reviews from all the big critics—you know, my mama, my baba, my pappous.”

  Annika grinned. “But of course. I’d expect nothing less.” Feeling a little pinch of hurt, she said, “They must be so proud of you.”

  Alesandro’s expression got somber. “I lost my pappous a decade ago, and my parents died three years apart when I was in college. It’s just me now. That’s why I do so many marathons. Most of them are charity runs for the things my family struggled with: strokes, heart disease, Alzheimer’s.”

  Annika leaned forward. “I’m so sorry. That’s terrible. I know a little of what it’s like to lose your family—I lost my mom to cancer when I was a baby. My dad raised me by himself.”

  Alesandro gazed into her eyes. “So you know,” he said softly. “You get it.”

  Their hands were close together on the table, and Alesandro made a move to touch his fingertips to hers. This was as real, as romantic, as connected as first dates got.

  But Annika found herself moving her hand to smooth back an invisible strand of hair. Disappointment flashed across Alesandro’s face, and Annika coughed to distract from the ruined moment.

  Alesandro cleared his throat. “Excuse me a moment—restroom,” he said, giving her a small smile as he scraped back his chair and stood.

  Annika watched him go, feeling a thump of disappointment—not at the ruined moment, but at herself. She was always pining after that rosy relationship glow, always stressing about how her first dates never went anywhere. Well, here it was—a great first date, handed to her as if on a platter, and she’d basically just knocked the platter to the floor. What was wrong with her? Alesandro was handsome and passionate and kind and it seemed like they had a lot in common. And yet … she felt nothing. Not the tiniest spark, not even a lukewarm ember.

  Oh, come on, Annika. Not every relationship is going to start off with a sizzle. It’s not always going to be fireworks and breathlessness, goose bumps and pounding hearts. Give it a chance. Make an effort.

  She heard Alesandro’s chair being pulled back and looked up with a beaming smile, determined to give it a sincere try. “Oh, hi. I was just—” She stopped, her smile sliding off her face. It wasn’t Alesandro seated at her table. It was Hudson Craft.

  Annika stared at his clean-shaven face. The recessed lighting emphasized the square planes of his jaw. In contrast to how she felt, he looked completely at ease. He’d changed since she saw him in the hallway, and was now dressed in an expensively cut gray blazer—probably bespoke—and a peacock-blue shirt that brought out the green tones in his eyes. A shiny, voluminous lock of his blond hair sat on his forehead, as though he was in a shampoo commercial. “Date ditch you already?” he asked, crossing his arms and cocking his head.

  “Are you stalking me? And no, he hasn’t,” Annika bit out, glaring at him. “He’s in the bathroom.”

  “I have a dinner reservation with a potential investor in about twenty minutes. I like to be early.” Then he asked with a conspiratorial smile, “Are you sure your date didn’t run out the back exit?”

  “I’m sure,” Annika said, narrowing her eyes. “Why is it so hard to believe that he’d want to stay on this date with me?”

  Hudson studied her for a long moment. She began to squirm under his intense gaze. “Actually, I find it hard to believe that any guy would leave you alone for any length of time.”

  They stared at each other, the butterflies once again in full force in Annika’s stomach.

  “Excuse me. That’s my seat.” Alesandro was back from the bathroom, a winning smile on his face once more. He’d apparently rallied after Annika’s brush-off.

  “Yes, it is,” Annika said in relief, turning back to Hudson and forcing a slightly poisonous smile. “So goodbye, Hudson.” She could see Hudson sizing Alesandro up, taking in the crisp lines of his ironed shirt and his olive-toned, kissed-with-health skin.

  “You know each other?” Alesandro asked, obviously oblivious.

  “We work in the same building,” Hudson said, beginning to stand. “But I won’t intrude. I have an event to get to any—”

  “No, sit, sit,” Alesandro insisted, grabbing an empty chair from a nearby table. What? Annika stared at him in disbelief. He turned his thousand-watt smile on her. “I’d love to get to know one of your friends.”

  Oh, god. He’d gotten the wrong idea. “He’s not my—”

  “Great idea,” Hudson said, speaking over her. “Thank you.” He flashed a smile at Annika that rivaled Alesandro’s in its brightness.

  The waitress came by with a huge platter of food and began to set things down
in front of Annika and Alesandro.

  Hudson studied the spread. “Wow.”

  “I’m carb-loading,” Alesandro explained. “For a marathon tomorrow.”

  Annika tossed Hudson a victorious look. “Yes, a charity marathon. Alesandro’s very philanthropically minded. He’s working to make the world a better place.”

  “Carb-loading helps me keep my energy up.” Alesandro dug into his carbonara. “I want to shave another minute off my time.” With his fork in one hand, he mimed running, pumping his arms by his side and puffing out breaths of air. “I think tomorrow’s the day.”

  Hudson glanced at Annika, his eyebrows raised, as if he were saying, “Really? This guy?”

  Like he was such a prize. Annika sat up straighter and said, “Alesandro also owns a Greek bakery. He’s very successful.”

  “Oh, I don’t know about that,” Alesandro protested, going back to his food.

  “He’s just being modest,” Annika said, looking at Hudson pointedly. “Modesty’s so hard to come by nowadays, don’t you think?”

  Hudson turned to Alesandro. “Are you into Nerf or paintball at all? Because those pastimes become a real liability around Annika.”

  Alesandro looked perplexed. “Oh, okay—”

  Annika leaned forward, clutching her miniature wine barrel. “Well, don’t let Hudson near your bakery. He can’t attract customers on his own, so he likes to poach other people’s—ones they came by honestly, with hard work and diligence and ethics, things he knows nothing about.”

  Hudson raised an eyebrow and looked at Alesandro. “Annika likes to accuse people of stealing her ideas with absolutely zero evidence. Has she accused you of stealing a family recipe yet? Because she will; it’s just a matter of time.” He leaned forward and spoke sotto voce. “You should get out while you still can.”

  Annika felt anger engulf her. “I do not just randomly accuse people—”