by Piper Lawson
I straightened, my notebook falling on the floor as I leaned out over the railing. “Wait!”
Janice paused partway down the stairs, arching a dark eyebrow in my direction.
My brain scanned the bullet points I’d memorized, eventually throwing them away.
“I know you think this is bullshit. But this company isn’t bullshit.” I crossed to the top of the stairs, my fingers clinging to the railing. “I’ve worked in this industry forever. Five stores since high school. Chains, boutiques, you name it. The day I was eligible to work, I was in line to interview at the mall down the street. Not for the money. Because I wanted to be part of something.”
I sensed a smidgen of hope when she said one syllable: “Why.”
I looked around the store. A few shoppers perused the racks below us. One lifted up a dress, smiling. “Because I think there are women like me. Ones who want to be part of something incredible but are afraid to make fools of themselves. Have you ever been that girl? I know you’re not now. You’re cool and confident and you can eviscerate the most savvy entrepreneur. And now I’ve gone and used the word ‘eviscerate’ in an interview, but…”
My fingers dug into the railing as I fought the nausea. Her face was giving me nothing. She could’ve been a statue. So I pressed on. Unlike wearing some dress at a party, or doing a band interview, or even getting humiliated by my ex? This mattered. If I was going to crash and burn, at least it was worth it.
“This brand isn’t just about clothing. It’s about girls. Badass girls doing something badass girls do best.” My gaze landed on one of the displays. “Being themselves. Taking chances. Owning the failures as much as the wins.”
Janice ascended the stairs, my heart lifting a little with each step until she took her seat. “Well, I already have the time booked. My car isn’t scheduled to pick me up for another thirty minutes.” She looked down her nose at the notebook on the floor, toeing it with her pump. “Did you need that?”
I grabbed it off the floor, setting it on the table and dropping into the other seat. “No. I don’t.”
“Fine. What’s it like to work for one of the fastest-growing female-owned brands in the country?”
The knots loosened another degree. “Like there’s this big ocean of possibility. They’ve created all this space to do amazing things. They love fashion, and every one of them brings something different to the table. Ava’s a brilliant designer. Lex has a marketing mind. Jordan figures things out.”
I had no idea if I was saying the right things, but they felt right to me.
“What do you bring to the team?”
I considered. “A fresh perspective. I’ve lived in LA for years and I’ve seen the best and worst it has to offer. I was excited when this store launched because it’s something I’ve wanted, something I wanted my friends to have. A brand that means something.”
“What’s a day in the life like? A dream come true?” she drawled.
“No.” My voice was sharper. “Some days it sucks. But every day is yours. And when you put your head on the pillow at night and decide how you feel about what you’ve done, the chances you took, you own it. All of it.”
“How’d it go?” Mac dropped her crocheting as I opened the door of the apartment.
“She didn’t walk out. And I didn’t vomit.” I kicked off my shoes and hung my bag on the hook by the door.
“Good girl. Hey, I need to finish these shorts.” She gestured to the coffee table where the fabric lay. “You’re a six. Help a chick out.”
I stripped down to my underwear and tugged on the crocheted flowers as Mac took up a seat near my butt. “They’re practically see through.”
“I know.” Her grin faded. “So the interview’s done. Why do you look like you ate a pincushion?”
For the first time today, I let myself think about Kent while she went to work on the shorts. “It’s Kent. I thought we were friends. Until yesterday.”
“No. I’m not falling for that again…” Mac’s fingers slowed as she trailed off. “Wait. You guys knocked boots at Travesty? For real this time?”
“In the storage room,” I said, miserable.
She shifted back on her heels, pulling her lip between her teeth as her dark brows drew together under the hot pink crown of her hair. “I don’t care where it was. Did it mean something?”
I stopped picking at the edge of my shirt. “It was a hookup.”
“A storage room does not a hookup make.”
“Thanks, Shakespeare.” She slapped my thigh and I jumped. “He said he’s falling for me. And all I could think was, what does that even mean? He’s trying to start his business in San Diego. I just got a promotion. I have no idea how it would even work.”
The knock at the door made us both jump.
“Don’t move,” she warned, crossing to open the door.
Dressed in acid-washed jeans and a T-shirt that hung off one shoulder, Jordan could’ve been a high school student. She slid the sunglasses down her nose, raising a brow at my attire.
“What is that?” She eyed up what Mac was working on.
“Festival wear,” she said with pride.
Jordan crossed to me and perched on the arm of the couch, lifting her gaze off my hips and meeting mine.
“What are you doing here?” I asked.
“Ethan and I got back a day early. He couldn’t stay away from his new condo project for an entire week.” She shook her head, but I could sense the respect behind it. “I heard from Janice.” My heart went up my throat. “She was impressed.”
“Impressed,” I echoed, numb.
Jordan hooked her sunglasses in the neck of her T-shirt, then reached up to shove at a chunk of honey blond hair that’d fallen over her face. “Well, she wasn’t gushing or anything. But remember, the woman criticized the linens at the White House.” Mac cackled. “Yeah. She thought you had balls.”
Relief washed over me, but not as much as I’d expected. “So I’m not fired.”
“No. In fact, I talked to Lex about it, and I want you to come with me to New York for Fashion Week this fall.”
Mac stabbed me and I shrieked. “Are you kidding?”
“We want you to see how Travesty runs. If you’re going to be more involved, that’s a must. You’ll have to line someone up to cover the store for you. Kyla can do it, and I’m sure Kent would help. The guy might say no to me, but I know he’d do it for you.” Her smile faded. “What’s wrong.”
My chest had expanded as soon as she’d said the words. Still, I felt numb. Like there was a gauze barrier between me and everything happening out there in the world, and I was seeing it all through the fabric.
“Guess. Six feet, blond hair, midwestern drawl, dreamy eyes, dreamier ass…” My roommate started ticking off her fingers but I tuned out.
The bubbles filling my chest started popping one by one until my ribs caved in. I flopped back on the couch, my hands landing over the arm and bumping something smooth.
I reached for the string of the half-inflated rocket balloon and pulled it toward me, wrapping my arms around the thing and clutching it tight.
“I know this is unprofessional,” I wheezed, “but I just need a second.”
“I’m the one who showed up at your house. Don’t apologize.” Jordan’s expression was more amused than concerned.
Possibly because I was wearing transparent shorts and fondling a half-inflated penis-rocket.
I stared up at the ceiling, feeling two pairs of eyes on me.
“He said he was falling for me. And I told him that wasn’t enough.”
“Is it enough?” Jordan’s low voice cut through my panic.
I started to answer but failed to find the words.
“How do you feel?” Mac prompted.
My fingers stroked the balloon absently. “I love every second I’m with him. Except when he drives me crazy. But actually, even then.” I blew out a breath. “He challenges me, pushes me, but when I can’t take it, he’s the
re too, telling me it’s okay. He’s got this way of living fearless that I envy, but that’s not how I am. There’s no way it would work, and…” My gaze flicked to Jordan, then Mac. “What if it doesn’t work?”
Jordan murmured something that sounded like “okay, girl talk,” then shook her head and shifted onto the back of the couch.
“Here’s the thing. From the beginning, Ethan was too old for me. Too outgoing. Too experienced.” Her look was pointed. “But he showed me he’s worth it. We’re worth it.
“Kent helped me when I came to LA,” Jordan went on. “He never asked for favors or expected anything. I’ve met a lot of assholes over the years. I won’t tell you Kent is the furthest thing from that. Because you know it.”
What she said made sense, all of it.
“But it’s still scary as hell.”
“So?” Mac weighed in. “You pulled it together for your interview.”
“That was different. I knew I could make it work if I got over myself.”
Jordan raised a brow.
“So you’re saying this is the same.”
“Well. If you don’t get over yourself and try, it definitely won’t work.”
My chest had pressurized again somewhat, and I slowly set the balloon off to drift around the coffee table.
“I’m going to need those shorts back,” Mac said, not unkindly.
13
Kent
When I strode out into the living room Saturday morning, the smell of fresh blueberries greeted me.
“You baked?” I asked.
“The bakery down the street baked,” Jordan replied. “It was this or nothing.”
“There’s lots of food,” Ethan complained, pulling a bag from the freezer.
She snorted. “Frozen green cubes. You know what that looks like? Just what it tastes—”
The roar of the blender drowned her out. “I love you, Jersey,” Ethan called over the noise.
I reached for a muffin from the pan as Ethan escaped with his cellphone and laptop to the back patio.
A second later the front door opened.
“I think I drank my body weight in cabernet,” a familiar voice groaned from the hall.
Lex’s red hair was pulled back in a sleek ponytail but she wore a baggy sweatshirt and leggings.
“We made it,” Dylan called, parking two rolling suitcases by the door and kicking off his shoes.
Lex looked between us, shifting a bag off her shoulder and setting it on the counter. “What’s going on?”
“Dal showed me the photographer’s proofs from the shoot.” She passed Lex her phone before turning to the coffee maker. “See anything familiar?”
Lex swiped through the images. “Your boards?”
“It was my idea. Dal rolled with it.”
Jordan set the machine to brew and leaned back against the counter. “You guys are giving me a toothache you’re so cute. I have no intention of giving her shit. You, on the other hand…”
“Wait, what’s going on?” Dylan pulled out a stool, ripping the top off a chocolate chip muffin and taking a bite out of it.
“You know Dal,” Lex started, straightening. Dylan nodded. “Jordan’s theory is that Kent has a thing for her.”
“It’s not a theory. It’s fact.” Jordan poured coffee into a mug, then three more. “Kent did a number on our girl.”
I shoved a hand through my wet hair. “That’s bullshit. I told her how I felt and she looked at me like I was speaking another language. I haven’t heard from her since.”
Three sets of stunned eyes landed on me.
“Maybe I pushed too hard.”
“I’m sorry,” Lex said softly, crossing to hug me.
“It’s fine,” I grumbled, embarrassed. Once I would’ve loved to have her touch me like that, but there was nothing anymore. The only longing I felt was for a woman that wasn’t even here.
“For what it’s worth,” Jordan offered over the mug of her coffee, “she rocked the interview.”
Pride washed over me. At least if being together wasn’t an option, I knew she’d gotten what she really wanted.
I reached for the cup Jordan passed me, tipping it back and wincing as the hot liquid burned down my throat. I dumped the other half in the sink. “I have to go.”
“The six of us were going to dinner later.”
I stiffened. “Six being…”
“You, Jordan, Ethan, Dylan, me and Dahlia.”
“We’ll see. I might head back to San Diego early.”
“Kent—”
“Guys. Don’t worry about me.” I reached for my sunglasses, hooked in the pocket of my jeans. I ignored the hollow feeling in my chest. “Tasha’s riding my board in the finals of the Open this afternoon. I have my first client. I’m living the dream.”
I still remember the feeling of riding finals. Nerves had never got to me like some of the other riders. They were a riptide beneath the surface, if you knew what to watch for you could stay out of their grasp.
Watching someone ride my board in finals was more nerve-wracking than doing it myself.
The sun beat down on the thickest crowds all week as I stood with Tasha’s sister and friends on the beach.
I’d cursed traffic the whole way down here, arriving just in time to see Tasha fall on a wave.
“Shit,” I panted as I pulled up next to her sister. “That her first wave?”
“Second,” she replied. “It was heavy out there.”
Which meant she’d only have one more chance. Maybe two.
We watched, tense, as she prepared for the next wave. I could see it start at the edge of the pier. A frontside beauty, just about to break.
We all held our breath as Tasha dropped down into the pocket.
Then she locked in, and started to carve.
Difficulty, innovation, progression, combinations of movements. That’s what the judges wanted to see.
All with the speed, power, and flow carried through the whole way.
And she had them all.
We were bouncing before she made it into shore, her sister hooting and hollering. When the scores finally came up, Tasha was in second, with one more rider to go.
“Nice ride,” I called when she made it over to us.
“Nice board.” She tapped the blue varnish under her arm. “How does it feel?”
“What do you mean?”
“To be part of it again.”
“Good,” I said, and meant it. I didn’t feel the elation I’d expected but, as Tasha got dragged away to do a media interview, I realized it was satisfying.
I got what Dal meant about building a business taking time. I’d been building boards for years before this day, and I’d still be building them for years after.
Maybe I’d have to wait months before this turned into something viable. Maybe I’d have to get another job. But you know what? I could figure that out. I’d been afraid of being cooped up, but I’d never been afraid of hard work.
If working some desk job gets me where I want to go eventually, I’ll log the hours.
I started toward my tent, needing to walk off the thoughts spinning in my brain.
The part that wouldn’t be so easy to figure out had nothing to do with surfing. It was her.
I’d broken my own rules about falling for someone. And a friend, at that.
But picturing Dal’s sweet smile, remembering the shallow little sounds she’d made in the back of her throat when I’d touched her, I couldn’t regret it.
Maybe we could go back to being friends. Hang out when I was in LA. She could keep naming my boards, and I could stop by Travesty to joke with her.
I’d pretend I hadn’t seen her naked.
And that it hadn’t made my whole fucking year.
I looked up, realizing I was back at my tent.
Except it wasn’t my tent. It couldn’t be, because a crowd of people made it nearly impossible to get through.
“What the hell?”
; I wove between bodies to get to the back of the store.
And in the middle of it…
“Dal.”
She stood there with a pen and a notebook, talking earnestly with a girl a few years younger.
She looked up, an anxious smile pulling at her mouth. “Hey.”
“What are you doing here?”
“Taking names. Literally. Your social media feed is blowing up, if you haven’t noticed. I’ve been trying to keep up with it, telling people how to find you.”
I shoved a hand through my hair, my gaze working over the space filled with my work. My work, and in the middle of it all, her.
“You have…ten orders,” Dal declared. “I tried texting you but your phone must be dead.”
“It’s off.” I reached into my pocket to retrieve my phone, seeing five texts from her with increasing urgency.
“So I went into your notebook to find pricing information. I wasn’t sure if that was cost or retail, so I added twenty percent to be safe. Another twenty-seven people are interested. We’ll put them on your mailing list.”
“My what?”
She patted my shoulder. “It’s good you’re here. Because I can’t answer half the questions.”
I stood next to her, jumping into the conversation so I could talk boards with a throng of spectators and competitors.
My brain lit up, and it was from being close to her every bit as much as from the new success.
When we’d talked to everyone and taken names and even some payments, I turned to Dal. Her face was flushed with excitement.
“I didn’t expect to see you here,” I told her.
“I know.” She tucked a piece of hair behind her ear, her ocean-blue eyes full of emotion on mine. “But I couldn’t let you go back to San Diego without seeing you again. I care about you, Kent. A lot. I was afraid that if I couldn’t control those feelings, if I couldn’t control us…it wouldn’t work.” My heart lifted. “I said I wanted love, and that’s true. But I screwed up because I thought that meant safety. Security. The absence of fear.”
Resisting the urge to haul her into my arms took everything in me. “I need to know what you’re saying, Dal.”
The little noise of protest in her throat had me remembering her underneath me. “I’m saying I’d rather be terrified with you than safe with someone else.” My hands tightened to fists at my sides, my breath filling my chest, stretching it. “I want to be with you. Exclusively.” Her nose scrunched up, like she’d tried to speak a foreign language and wasn’t sure she’d gotten it right.