Page 7 of Ticket to You

“I’ll take whatever reasoning I can get. Now go!” Gemma waves her hands, ushering me away.

I groan softly, set my jaw, and run my fingers through my hair. It’s been ages since I’ve introduced myself to a woman that I wasn’t interviewing for work. But how hard can it be?

Each slow step I take toward Ophelia Brooks ties my stomach into a tighter knot. I can tell myself that Ophelia has no effect on me, but I’m undeniably drawn to her, despite how unsettled that makes me and despite what I told Gemma. Not just because she’s beautiful, but because she held her ground with me. In just a short exchange, I could tell Ophelia is a force to be reckoned with. And if she truly is smarter than she is beautiful, like Gemma claims, she must be Marie Curie-level smart. Though I expected her to rush home, at least for an outfit change, Ophelia is still in her wine-splattered dress.

She’s dancing in the middle of the room with Nate, a writer I used to work alongside. The two of them are bouncing along to the upbeat music, trading bright, perfectly white smiles like they’re dueling to see who will star in a Colgate ad. When I’m only a few feet away, the song fades and a slow one begins. Immediately, Nate pulls Ophelia to him, holding one hand around hers and the other around her waist.

Nate was notorious around the office when he worked in New York. Though infamous might be a better term. He would secretly date multiple women at the same time, and, according to rumors, says just about anything to charm his way into a woman’s life for one night. Years ago, I asked our editor-in-chief to fire him for hitting on the interns. I didn’t have proof of any misconduct, though, so the best thingOutdoorsycould do was move him to a different office.

Seeing Nate with his hand around Ophelia makes my muscles tighten. I hyper-focus on her expression and body language, watching for any sign of discomfort. Without realizing it, I gravitate closer to the pair. When I’m almost directly behind Ophelia, Nate’s eyes meet mine. Recognition flashes across his face immediately, and his lips slide into a wicked grin.

I tap Nate’s shoulder. “May I cut in?”

Ophelia spins, narrowing her eyes at me.

“Ophelia Brooks, correct?” I say. “I’m Adam Abrams. We didn’t get a chance for a formal meeting.”

Ophelia says nothing. Beside her, Nate straightens in a feeble attempt to look closer to my height.

“Gemma thinks we have a lot in common,” I continue after an awkward pause I was hoping Ophelia would fill. “Would you like to dance?” My voice is flat. It takes everything in me to not glare at Nate. Still, a simple look at him has him diverting his eyes.

Ophelia holds her hands behind her back and rocks forward on her toes, tilting her chin up at me. “You know, I would love to dance, but I’m in the middle of a very interesting conversation right now.” Her voice is so sweet it turns sour.

Nate laughs uncomfortably. “I mean, I don’t know if In-N-Out’s secret menu would be classified as ‘very interesting conversation.’”

Ophelia smirks. “But earlier we were talking about the hottest shoe of the season, and I was just about to ask Nate what he thinks of pairing plaid with stripes.”

Shit.

“It was great to meet you,Aaron.” Ophelia turns back to Nate and wraps both her arms around his neck, drawing even closer to him than before.

“I don’t mind if you dance with him,” Nate mumbles, puffing his chest out a bit.

“I don’t even want to talk to him, ever, let alone dance with him,” Ophelia says, clearly mindful to speak loud enough for me to hear.

I spend the next two hours watching Ophelia and Nate dance, drink, and laugh. Thankfully, he doesn’t touch her inappropriately, so I keep my distance. Ophelia doesn’t look overjoyed, but she doesn’t look nervous or uncomfortable, either. At one point, he tries to put his arm around her shoulders, but she shrugs it off with a polite smile. And when the party is wrapping up, Gemma and Ophelia go together, leaving Nate behind. Only then do I take my first full breath in hours.

OPHELIA

THREE MONTHS LATER

Gemma squeezesinto the packed subway car between me and the other morning commuters and hands me my espresso macchiato. Morning coffee became our ritual soon after I was hired as an intern atAtelier Today. We still keep it up years later, taking turns buying coffee for one another every day. If it were just me, I would wait to grab coffee until I could get it for free in the break room. But the time I spend with Gemma over coffee is well worth the twenty-five dollars a week.

“Cheers to you, Miss Journalist-in-Excellence,” Gemma says over the rumble of the subway and ambient chatter. She taps her drink against mine.

“Journalist in ExcellenceNomineeis more accurate,” I say, taking a long sip from my cup. “It’s not a big deal.”

“Not a big deal? It’s ahugedeal.”

“They nominated a writer from each publication at Hoffman’s.”

Gemma pushes her silver hair behind her ear, leaning in closer. “And every other nominee pales in comparison to you, especially with you securing the travel section. It’s only been a couple of months, and it’s a tremendous success.”

I can’t keep the smile from my face. My career is my life. Seeing my hard work pay off brings an indescribable feeling.

Gemma’s phone goes off with a text, and Adam Abram’s name shines up at her. The very sight of it sends my stomach into knots. I hoped to never have to talk about Adam again, but that’s pretty hard, considering the fact that he’s Gemma’s best writer.

“How’s my soulmate doing today?” I ask with a mischievous grin. Adam took on that nickname soon after the holiday party. It never fails to make Gemma laugh…and then apologize again for the failed set-up.

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