Page 18 of Over the Edge

Garrett

Whatever

Evelyn

Floor length gown it is

Text dots dance at the bottom of the screen then disappear again. A full minute later a text finally comes through.

Garrett

Don’t.

He makes it too easy, and I do have one. I tend to over pack based on a list ofwhat ifsthat will never happen. I abandon my pizza and wash my hands before heading upstairs.

The black silk dress makes me feel sophisticated in a way that I rarely do. My T-shirts tell everyone what to expect, loud and maybe a little too much. They’re my own personal warning labels. Still, it would be nice for someone to see me as someone soft and elegant.

I lift my phone and angle the camera to get the entire dress in frame then send off the picture.

Evelyn

Too late. Unless you have other suggestions.

Garrett

This

He’s sent a screenshot from my Instagram. I only have a moment to appreciate the fact that he’s taken my words so literally, before I look at the picture that has my stomach tying in knots.

My face is stretched into a rowdy cheer as I hoist a pint glass over my head next to Quinn, who’s far more nonchalant with her arm draped around my shoulder. Oliver, whose pint I stole to pose with, took the picture four times because the first time someone else walked between us and the camera, the second and third times the pictures were just bad.

I love Avery and how much closer we’ve gotten living in the same city, but I miss Quinn and Oliver. I miss going out and talking about work where Peter in design needed to stop trying to find “creative” ways to make Comic Sans a trend or how Kirsten was definitely taking extra product samples from the little bins that we get from brands. Oliver would cheer on the repetitive cycle of petty drama, since he mostly worked virtually and also likes everyone he’s ever met. There’s a part of me that wishes I could press a rewind button and never sign my record deal. But I made a choice, and now I’m living with it.

My screen goes dark. I tap it once so I can examine the outfit, trying to brush off the aftershock of memory. The jeans are some of my favorites, light wash denim with red stars where pockets should be. I don’t have the exact black top because I accidentally snagged and tore it on a fence a while back, but I have plenty like it.

As I’m doing the little jumps that are required to get into the skin tight jeans, my phone flashes with a call. I answer without looking because I assume it’s Garrett calling to let me know he’s on his way.

“How’s Love Land?” Vincent asks and my stomach plummets. This is what I get for not calling him yesterday like I promised.

I put the phone on speaker and place it on the nightstand as I continue dressing.

“It’s great. There’s this amazing energy here. I wish I could bottle the air,” I say as I start to shove my feet into black combat boots.

“So, the writing’s going well?” It’s the question I didn’t want him to ask, but a significant portion of his job is making sure I do my job.

“It’s great!” I chirp, hating the sharpness of my voice. “I could give a dumpster fire a run for its money.”

“That bad, huh?”

“Yeah. But I’m close.” Maybe if I repeat it enough I’ll actually get a few steps closer through some sort of willpower fueled manifestation. I don’t mention the small issue of my piano needing to be tuned as that doesn’t exactly convey that I have everything under control.

Vincent was supportive of this trip because I was excited about something for the first time in a while. I’m not sure how far that support will stretch if I don’t show proof of progress soon.

“Just like you were close when you sent me that one insurance company jingle and swore it would make a great hook?” he asks.

Not my greatest moment. To my credit, I've been watching a lot of TV, and those commercials are catchy. I sent him a voice memo with my “amazing idea” only to wake up to his text asking me if I was serious.

“Like one percent closer, maybe two.” My attention flicks to the window as a pair of headlights blaze light down Alina’s driveway. “Is there something you need to talk about? If not, I should get going.”

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