Page 51 of One More Weekend

Nodding, I shrugged. “That’s fair. But it is pretty.”

Her head rolled forward as she groaned. “That is such a good point. My bank account would be so sad.”

As if to reassure herself that it was the best thing to leave the piece behind, Jenna pulled out her phone and started to pull up her balance. She’d been doing it more and more like it was a daily reminder of how desperately she needed to get out of this expensive city and back to her family.

But her face dropped as she looked at the screen.

“What?” I asked as she stopped in her tracks.

She pulled her finger down on a notification, opening her email.

Her eyes flicked around the screen as a squeal came from deep in her chest. “Oh my god! Oh my god!”

“What?!” I couldn’t hide my panic, gripping her biceps as I turned her to face me.

Hardly able to stop screaming, Jenna jumped up and down. “I got an interview. A real fucking interview!”

My jaw dropped. “No fucking way!”

“Yes! At an agency in midtown!” Jenna turned her eyes back to the screen, immediately claiming an interview slot for the coming week. But as soon as she did, she shoved her phone into her pocket and wrapped her arms around me.

“Holy shit!” Pulling away, Jenna planted a kiss on my lips. She wasn’t gentle, too excited to be worried about that.

When we finally separated, dozens of pedestrians moving around us as they rolled their eyes, Jenna bit her lip. “I’m getting that motherfucking nightstand.”

I nodded. “Yes you are, and I’ll carry it home.”

34

JENNA

Taking in a deep breath,I faced myself in the mirror. “You’ve got this. This job has your name written all over it.”

I ran my hand over the smoothed-down hairs on the top of my head, a neat bun at the back. I wore a simple, purple blouse and a black blazer. Over the summer, my office clothes had been shoved to the back of the closet.

There wasn’t much use for Mary Jane’s and blouses on mine and Sy’s dates.

As I grabbed my bag from my bed, I tried not to think about how much was at stake. If I got this job, I could stay in the city I loved and keep exploring things with Sy.

But if it went poorly…

Shaking my head, I steadied myself. I wasn’t even going to put that kind of energy out there.

Instead, I opened my bedroom door to a serene kitchen where Sy was frying something on the stove in a tight, black t-shirt and baggy sweats.

How is she not sweating her ass off?

“There she is.” Sy whipped around, smiling at me with a tin foil package in her hands.

Crossing the kitchen, I raised an eyebrow. “What have you been doing out here?”

Rather than answer, Sy shoved the tin foil toward me.

I grabbed it, immediately feeling the warmth of a breakfast sandwich inside.

“I know you probably don't want to eat before, but this way you have food for right after.” Sy smiled.

Somehow she’d remembered how much I hated eating when I was anxious. One of the only fights we’d ever gotten into throughout our friendship was Sy’s insistence on trying to force me to eat when I was too nervous.

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