Page 9

Chapter 8

Lia

My studio apartment feels bigger than it did before I left. Blush pink walls are illuminated by twinkly lights placed along, and across, the ceiling for ultimate effect. The warmth of home hits me, widening the grin already plastered on my face. My body should be sore, and my feet should ache considering I walked miles at the game tonight, but there’s not an ounce of pain to be found.

This apartment has been home for three years and it’s come a long way. It was the only place within my sad excuse of a price range, and even then, I’ve needed a few rent extensions. It was also the only unit available in the building and they were embarrassed to show it to me. I used that to my advantage and got them to agree to let me do any cosmetic changes I wanted, without needing approval.

It’s basically a long rectangle with tall ceilings and no doors, besides one to the small full bathroom. The single saving grace of the dilapidated apartment was they’d recently renovated the bathroom due to a water leak that ruined the floors and part of the wall. It’s basic—a shower and tub combo, small cabinet over the toilet and storage space under the sink.

Over the last three years, I’ve completed projects whenever I could find the materials on sale or had worked enough odd jobs to have extra cash. My landlord is a saint; he’s never raised my rent, and I’ve also never had to call him for anything .

The first thing was priming and painting the entire place—isn’t it amazing what a fresh coat of paint can do? Since then, I’ve redone the trim, taken down moldy cabinets and replaced them with open concept shelving, and built out my dream of a bedroom.

I needed to get creative when it came to my bedroom. A regular from my bartending gig helped me assemble and anchor floor-to-ceiling bookshelves after I beat him in a game of pool—his manual labor was the prize. Using the back corner of the studio, we built one long wall of bookshelves, but used the existing structure to box it in. We used a few smaller shelves to create the corner and a makeshift entrance—a curtain used to fill the space between the shelf and the wall. It feels like a separate room compared to the living space. It turned out better than I could’ve imagined, which means he may or may not been given a discount on his draft beers as a bonus.

I pull the curtain back and fall into bed—the thick duvet like a cloud and the mattress perfectly comfortable. I once worked part time at a mattress outlet for the discount, otherwise I’d never have been able to afford a bed like this. I’ve always found a way to make things work, including odd jobs like that. I’m the queen of figuring out how to either get a necessary discount or do it myself.

Refusing to fall asleep without washing my face, I peel myself from bed. Once my skin care is complete and matching pajamas are on, I walk to the kitchen, grabbing a mug and a tea bag. Wisps of chamomile and mint hit my nose as I dip the bag in and out of the perfectly temped water. I started drinking tea when I was a teenager because it was cheap and everywhere you go has hot water. During my college years, I’d made friends with a gas station attendant who’d always let me fill my thermos with hot water for free.

I blow on the tea, the steam soothing as it hits my face. I take a cautious sip, careful not to burn my mouth, and walk back to my bed. I set the tea on the bedside table while I get under the blankets—my favorite routine of the day. The down comforter is perfectly heavy on my body.

As I reach for my phone, it buzzes with a notification.

Unknown

i’ve been wanting to go here

think it’d be perfect for a second date

this is Brooks btw

My stomach flips as my jaw falls open. The morning after our date, or whatever the hell that was, I convinced myself Brooks was simply being nice, stepping in so someone who got ready for a night out wasn’t left sitting alone at the bar. Even after our kiss, the one which stole and captivated my breath as it lit a fire in my belly, I told myself it wasn’t real. Then I got the Jags job offer, which sort of means dating him—even if he was interested—is off the table.

Me

if this is Brooks, tell me something only he’d know

sometimes you think I’m better when I play the three

I press my lips together, running from the smile threatening to take over my entire face. The softness of my overnight lip mask makes it impossible not to move them side to side.

okay, I believe you

what do you think about the dinner spot ?

Engaging with the fantasy, I open the link to a place I’ve never heard of. To be fair, I’m not one to go out much, due to lack of disposable income. The only reason I was at Oasis was because LDR, my acronym for Little Dick Randall, suggested it. I had to break into my bonus envelope, tip money from the bar set aside for something fun or tragic, to pay for myself in case he didn’t offer.

The dinner spot Brooks sent has my mouth watering. It offers twists on classic dishes like meatloaf, grilled cheese sandwiches, and chicken pot pie. I let myself fall down the rabbit hole, the one where I go out with Brooks. For only a few seconds, I think of his lips on mine, and then he’s kissing the soft spot behind my ear as his hands squeeze the side of my hip. A car honk from outside the window startles me, bringing me back to the moment.

you don’t really want to date me

plus it’s probably frowned upon by my new employer

oh, i definitely want to date you

thought the first date kind of gave that vibe

also, the only policy has to do with interns

which you are not

Actually, I haven’t completed a full orientation with the Jags yet. Brooks could be right. But is it professional? Will they still take me seriously? Is it a good idea? I bite my lip and put my head back on the pillows, staring at the ceiling while trying to sort these feelings .

A bubble of rage starts small before filling my chest. Would these be the same things I’d worry about if I was a man? Would a man be taken less seriously in their job based on who they were dating? In most cases, like we know already, the answer is no. Bullshit or not, it’s the world we live in, or the world I live in at least. Maybe men get a little more leeway than women but how much am I willing to risk?

Wow, talk about getting ahead of myself.

you’re actually asking me out?

yes. one hundred percent.

this time, without the loser you were supposed to be out with

My heart races in my chest like it has somewhere to be. My night with Brooks was unexpectedly fun. Gone were the typical first date nerves, replaced with the suggestion of being comfortable. The idea of him wanting me, like that, has me blushing alone in my studio apartment.

we’ll see

i can work with that

because it’s not a no

I save Brooks’ number in my phone, and when I see our updated text thread with his name associated with it, I let out a small scream and kick my feet.