missed his afternoon doctor appointment to catch up with me.
“Well, by the end of our conversation he’d called this James guy who owns the gallery to introduce me personally over the phone. And you know how Whitman gets. I barely did any talking, and he made me sound like I was God’s gift to the industry.”
“So you got it?” Rachel asks, bubbling over with excitement.
“Well, no. I still have to meet him in New York in a few weeks. Assuming he likes me and finds me competent, it sounds like it’s a done deal.”
I try to play it off casually but I know securing a job of this caliber right out of college is a huge deal. Actually, securing any job in this field without having to use my parent’s contacts is a huge deal. Surely my parents will see it that way, right? Regardless, I need this job to prove them wrong. Show them that Art History is a worthwhile path that can help me make a living and a name for myself professionally.
“Do you know what the best part of all this is?” Rachel asks. I arch my eyebrow, curious to see where she’s going with this one. “ When you get the job,” she emphasizes, “I will never have to pay for another overpriced hotel in New York City ever again!” And with that she quickly changes the subject.
I’m really going to miss her mindless chatter. After all of our years of friendship, I’ve learned that Rachel doesn’t do farewells. She’s more of a “see you later” kind of gal. And as the closest thing she has ever had to a real sister, I know me leaving is going to take its toll on her.
No matter how much she masks it.
I’M LOOKING IN THE MIRROR trying to decide if I’m overdressed when I hear a knock on our door. Rachel runs to answer and I give myself a final once over.
Since most of my clothes are still packed up from Italy, Rachel dressed me in one of her jean skirts and a cabernet-colored eyelet blouse. Admittedly, I look cute, even if it makes me come across a little more innocent than I’d like. She forced me into a pair of her wedge heels, but I’m feeling a bit more down to earth tonight, so I kick those off and slip into my favorite pair of black Chuck Taylors.
The light that hits Phoenix’s eyes when I walk into our living room instantly brings butterflies to my insides. The nerves take over again and I feel the heat in my palm from when he kissed it yesterday morning. But that look … I would be content spending our entire date here in this living room staring at each other if he wanted to keep looking at me like that, like I’m the only female in existence.
It makes me feel like … well, no. It just makes me feel.
“Hey,” he says softly with a smile.
“Hi,” I respond in a shy whisper.
I run my fingers nervously through my hair, tucking a piece behind my ear, but the strand falls loose. Magnetized, he quickly closes the gap between us and takes the strand of hair within his fingers. He smiles and tucks it behind my ear again.
I inhale slowly, willing my heart to slow down. He still smells of musk and damp earth, that familiar scent after a spring rain shower, such a heady combination.
And for a beat, I am certain he is going to kiss me.
After saying only one word to me.
And in front of my best friend.
That’s not awkward or anything.
From the corner of my eye, I see Rachel look from him to me, then back to him again. Then she clears her throat. I abruptly take a step back to put some space between us, feeling embarrassed.
“Before we go, there’s just something I need to do,” Phoenix says. He reaches for my purse, raising an eyebrow. “May I?” I give an approving, but curious nod, and watch him open it up, and fish around for something. Grabbing my iPhone, he holds it up triumphantly. “Found it!”
I watch him place it on the coffee table and give him a questioning stare. Just what are his motives?
“You won’t be needing this tonight.” He smiles smugly. I open my mouth to protest, but he beats me
“Well, by the end of our conversation he’d called this James guy who owns the gallery to introduce me personally over the phone. And you know how Whitman gets. I barely did any talking, and he made me sound like I was God’s gift to the industry.”
“So you got it?” Rachel asks, bubbling over with excitement.
“Well, no. I still have to meet him in New York in a few weeks. Assuming he likes me and finds me competent, it sounds like it’s a done deal.”
I try to play it off casually but I know securing a job of this caliber right out of college is a huge deal. Actually, securing any job in this field without having to use my parent’s contacts is a huge deal. Surely my parents will see it that way, right? Regardless, I need this job to prove them wrong. Show them that Art History is a worthwhile path that can help me make a living and a name for myself professionally.
“Do you know what the best part of all this is?” Rachel asks. I arch my eyebrow, curious to see where she’s going with this one. “ When you get the job,” she emphasizes, “I will never have to pay for another overpriced hotel in New York City ever again!” And with that she quickly changes the subject.
I’m really going to miss her mindless chatter. After all of our years of friendship, I’ve learned that Rachel doesn’t do farewells. She’s more of a “see you later” kind of gal. And as the closest thing she has ever had to a real sister, I know me leaving is going to take its toll on her.
No matter how much she masks it.
I’M LOOKING IN THE MIRROR trying to decide if I’m overdressed when I hear a knock on our door. Rachel runs to answer and I give myself a final once over.
Since most of my clothes are still packed up from Italy, Rachel dressed me in one of her jean skirts and a cabernet-colored eyelet blouse. Admittedly, I look cute, even if it makes me come across a little more innocent than I’d like. She forced me into a pair of her wedge heels, but I’m feeling a bit more down to earth tonight, so I kick those off and slip into my favorite pair of black Chuck Taylors.
The light that hits Phoenix’s eyes when I walk into our living room instantly brings butterflies to my insides. The nerves take over again and I feel the heat in my palm from when he kissed it yesterday morning. But that look … I would be content spending our entire date here in this living room staring at each other if he wanted to keep looking at me like that, like I’m the only female in existence.
It makes me feel like … well, no. It just makes me feel.
“Hey,” he says softly with a smile.
“Hi,” I respond in a shy whisper.
I run my fingers nervously through my hair, tucking a piece behind my ear, but the strand falls loose. Magnetized, he quickly closes the gap between us and takes the strand of hair within his fingers. He smiles and tucks it behind my ear again.
I inhale slowly, willing my heart to slow down. He still smells of musk and damp earth, that familiar scent after a spring rain shower, such a heady combination.
And for a beat, I am certain he is going to kiss me.
After saying only one word to me.
And in front of my best friend.
That’s not awkward or anything.
From the corner of my eye, I see Rachel look from him to me, then back to him again. Then she clears her throat. I abruptly take a step back to put some space between us, feeling embarrassed.
“Before we go, there’s just something I need to do,” Phoenix says. He reaches for my purse, raising an eyebrow. “May I?” I give an approving, but curious nod, and watch him open it up, and fish around for something. Grabbing my iPhone, he holds it up triumphantly. “Found it!”
I watch him place it on the coffee table and give him a questioning stare. Just what are his motives?
“You won’t be needing this tonight.” He smiles smugly. I open my mouth to protest, but he beats me
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