Page 46 of Lotus

GABE POURS HIMSELF A CUP OF COFFEEwhile I stand over the stove, folding an omelet in half and watching as the cheese oozes from the creases.

“Smells bomb,” Gabe announces, floating through the kitchen in that hurried way he does when he’s running late for work.

“It’s a Denver omelet. I’m cooking it for you.”

“Yeah?” He sips his coffee, wincing when it scalds his tongue. “Thanks, man. I’ll take it to go—I snoozed my alarm one too many times this morning.”

I fail to see the point in setting an alarm for a specific time, knowing you will not abide by the time you set it for.

A strange habit, indeed.

My eyes find Gabe as he blows into his ceramic mug, trying to cool the hot brew. “You do look a bit sluggish.”

“I slept like shit.” With a sigh, he smooths back a few pieces of hair that have come loose from his styling product. “Clem was texting me last night, apologizing for bolting last week. She said she just wants to be friends.”

“What triggered the change of heart?” I wonder.

“Beats the fuck out of me. She wouldn’t say. I guess I took it harder than I thought I would—we seemed good together.”

“That’s a shame.”

Gabe makes an unidentifiable sound as he zones out, staring into his coffee cup. “Anyway, I’ll get over it. What about you?” He nudges me with his elbow as I plate the breakfast. “Are you ready to jump into the dating pool?”

I stiffen at the suggestion, turning off the burner and averting my eyes. “I don’t think so.”

“Nah? I mean, I get it. It’s a bitch out there,” he explains with a sharp chuckle. “But if you change your mind, I could have a Tinder profile set up for you like that.”

Gabe snaps his fingers in front of my face, causing me to frown. “A tender profile?”

“Tinder,” he clarifies. “It’s basically a website for getting laid. You’d have all the chicks swiping right.”

I don’t know what any of that means, so I just nod. “Sounds interesting.”

He takes another sip of coffee before setting it down and reaching for the plated omelet. “That’s one word for it. What are your plans today?”

The thought of my plans has a smile inadvertently spreading across my face. I lean back against the edge of the counter, watching as Gabe shoves forkfuls of eggs into his mouth, while simultaneously checking the clock. “I’m visiting Sydney at noon. She’s going to help me locate a job. Travis was right—I should be making myself more productive, especially since my government assistance is nearly running out.” Tightening my jaw, I glance down at my sock-covered feet, a hint of embarrassment flaring. I find no enjoyment in relying on others.

My brother is quick to quell my anxiety. “Well, I’ve got no issues with you being here if you’re worried about that,” he responds, his words almost indecipherable as he chews. “You keep shit clean and cook like a damn boss. Plus, I kinda dig having you around.” Gabe glances at the clock again. “Speaking of boss, Howard is going to kick my ass. Gotta run.”

My brother discards the half-eaten omelet and gives my shoulder a hearty smack, then hustles down the stairs and out the front door.

I find myself smiling again, my eyes also on the clock, as I wait for it to turn noon.

Sydney is leaning over my shoulder, her proximity so close, our cheeks are almost kissing one another. It’s a bit distracting as I scroll through the occupation listings on the screen in front of me. I find that my attention is divided between hourly pay rates and the scent of Sydney’s floral hair product tickling my senses.

“Ooh! This restaurant is looking for a line cook,” Sydney declares with enthusiasm, clicking on the headline. Then she huffs with disappointment. “Previous restaurant experience required.”

We’ve been running into quite a few hurdles. It appears most jobs require experience, and yet, how am I able to acquire any experience if no one will consider me?

A catch twenty-two.

I gave Sydney a rundown of the things I enjoy partaking in—cooking, drawing, reading, birds, nature, cleaning, and organizing. The list was fairly short as I continue to be introduced to new hobbies and interests.

“Reading!”

I’m staring at a freckle just below her temple when she lights up, turning to me with her sapphire eyes. It takes a moment for me to realize she’s awaiting my reply—it wasn’t a question, though. “I enjoy reading.”

“I have the best idea ever,” she says with an irresistible amount of fervor. “The library. Our local library is always looking for help.”

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