Page 8 of So Not My Type

“I miss it a lot, actually.” Maya gulped the juice and wiped her lip with the back of her hand. “But nope. Nursing has my full attention. Oh, did I tell you…”

Maya plopped down on the kitchen stool and proceeded to talk about research on some blood-borne something or other, and Sophie tried, she really did, to focus on the foreign words. Her face probably mirrored Ella’s lost expression in the café yesterday. As Maya droned on, Sophie stood in front of the mirror. The shirt looked ridiculous. She ripped it off and tossed it in the corner. She grabbed another. Tossed another.

“So, I asked the professor about apple cider vinegar being an insulin aid, and I read an article—wait. What are you doing?” Maya pulled the phone so close to her face that Sophie could count her eyelashes. “That shirt looked great. Why did you toss it?”

“Not the look I’m going for today.”I’m so full of shit.For the first time in forever, she was self-conscious about the funky thrift-store finds stuffed in her closet. She finally settled on a cropped, off the shoulder sweater and neon pink tank. “So, bignews time. Guess what? Malcolm offered for me to go on a cruise.”

Maya bolted upright. “What? How did you not lead with this? Are you serious? Tell me everything.”

Sophie made her way to the kitchen and propped the phone on the counter. “We landed this new account for Latoure—you know the new Alaska cruise line porting in Seattle? Anyway, they want to immerse the creative team in the cruising experience, so we can create the campaign.”

“Soph, this is huge! A freaking cruise. Are you kidding? You always wanted to go on one.” Maya slammed her hand against her mouth and muffled a screech. “Remember in high school when you signed your parents up for one of those timeshare demos with a promise of a free cruise?”

“Oh God, they were so mad.” She popped bread into the toaster. “They were held hostage in some crappy hotel conference room all afternoon.”

“I remember that! Didn’t we run around the lobby talking in fake accents and try to pretend we were European or something ridiculous?”

“Right!” Sophie giggled at the memory of a very irritated front desk agent who repeatedly asked them where their parents were. “Who knows, maybe I’ll find my soulmate off the coast of the Caribbean during the midnight chocolate buffet.”

Maya rolled her eyes. “Seattle is like the land of lesbian opportunity. Why don’t you try dating here?”

So many reasons.“Seattle might be filled with gays, but right now I feel like I’m only surrounded by dry-erase markers and laptops.” She’d gone on a few dates over the years, but by the time she worked late, logged off, and rushed to meet the person, she was tired and mentally preparing the next day’s agenda. By the first drink, her heartbeat would kick up a notch, worriedabout after-hours emails, and she’d sneak off to the bathroom to check her phone.

Maya’s lips turned into a frown. “I think you’re working too much.”

“I know.” Sophie’s voice turned soft. “But I have to.”

Maya nodded.

What Sophie loved the most about Maya was that she just inherentlygot it. Sophie didn’t need to explain her obsession to prove she was right for this job, prove to everyone they didn’t make a mistake, prove she could excel like her co-workers, even without a fancy degree. No need for her to justify the fear of winding up like her parents, who’d have to work until they were eighty just to stay in their run-down, two-bedroom home.

Sophie scraped butter across the toast and crunched into a bite. “Honestly, the cruise is probably not gonna happen.”

“Why not?”

“’Cause I have to project manage and execute a whole new campaign beforehand. You know Devil’s Doughnuts in Fremont and Capitol Hill? It’s for them.” She dusted off the crumbs from her fingers. “But me and the team have to get out social, web, and digital in eight weeks.”

Maya set the phone on the counter and propped her elbows onto the table. “I’m not even going to pretend I understand the difference. They all sound like the internet to me.”

“Well, social is social, like Instagram, Facebook, whatever,” Sophie said. “Web is landing pages and banners on their website, and digital… you know, never mind. The details aren’t important. But it’s nearly impossible to do. The entire team will have to work triple time.”

“I can’t believe they’re making you do this on your own.”

Right now, Sophie actually wished she were doing this on her own. Then she could avoid the chocolate-eyed demon for one more second. “I’m training in a newbie.”

“That’s amazing! You’ve always wanted a trainee.” Maya’s eyes brightened. “You should make them get your coffee and tell them to rub your feet. Bark orders like a boss.”

Sophie grinned but followed it with a groan. “Never gonna happen. It’s George’s daughter.”

Maya’s lip twitched in a grimace. “Oh God, don’t you hate that guy?”

“I don’t hate him as much as, I don’t know… He’s kind of a goober. Sometimes I see snippets that make me think he’s human. And he signed off on my promotion, so… But it’s total crap his daughter is my trainee. Not only is she a rookie, but she only got the job because she’s his daughter.” Sophie stuffed her laptop in her bag and zipped. “It’s going to be like training an infant. She’s a rookie, and they put her in the big leagues, and she is one hundred percent gonna eff up my shit.”

Maya’s head snapped back. “Jesus, whoa. This doesn’t even sound like you. The last time I heard you this heated was when you waited all night to see Dave Matthews and they sold out.”

Sophie exhaled through her nose. Maya was probably right. This ball inside her gut, fiery and icky and gross, wasn’t her. On her way to work, she needed to listen to a podcast of Brené Brown, Simon Sinek, or some meditation guru. “Do you remember me talking about her? Years ago, when I first started?”

“She was kind of a shit, right? Didn’t she sneer at your combat boots? Clearly, she has terrible taste.”

---