Page 3 of Winter Glam in Amsterdam

Nevertheless, I wave him inside, not taking my eyes off the little speck of glue I’ve been fixating on for the past few months whenever I lie here in a contemplative state, not wanting to deal with anything.

I feel the bed dip and finally lower my gaze to Luca’s worried face.

“Come on, tell me what’s going on,” he urges, and I gulp.

“It’s no—”

“Stop it, Summer.” He shakes his head at me. “Something’s clearly bothering you and I’m not going to let you act like a moody bitch without at least getting an explanation.”

He holds my skeptical stare, and finally, I let out a deep sigh, sit up and reach for a pillow to hug to my chest. I know he’s right. I’ve been acting like a moody bitch, but talking about it makes it more real. And right now, dealing with reality is not exactly high on my list.

“I’m annoyed and frustrated,” I start, mumbling into the pillow. “I see everyone my age living their lives, being—” I lift my handsfor air quotes— “‘functioning adults,’ and here I am, still living at home, still jobless after months of applications, no prospects.”

“Well, that’s not true,” Luca interrupts me and pinches my calf.

I sigh and shake my head at him.

“It is, though. I don’t have job experience. But you need job experience to get a job. But not an internship—which I did plenty of—because apparently internships are not work experience anymore. But how can I gather ‘real’ work experience if no one will hire me because, guess what, I don’t have work experience? It’s a bullshit cycle that I can’t break out of.”

“Come on now, it can’t be that bad.”

“Oh yeah?” I reach for my phone and pull up my trusty spreadsheet, tracking all the jobs I have applied to and all the ones that sent rejection emails. “I’ve had three interviews,” I tell him as I hand him the phone. “I’ve applied to over a thousand jobs, got more than 200 rejection emails, and got ghosted by the other eighty percent. I’m not seeing the perspective here.”

He scrolls through it, eyes growing wider as he sees all the red marked jobs.

“It will come,” Luca assures me, but his smile seems more forced as he reaches out his hand to ruffle my hair the same way he’s always done since we were kids. “It might just take a bit longer.And if living with Mom and Dad is your issue, there’s a house three doors down that I haven’t had the heart to sell yet.”

“I appreciate it, but no,” I tell him and shake my head. “I don’t want a house on a silver platter. I want to stand on my own two feet, make my own money and spend it as I please without guilt gnawing at my conscience.”

“You feel guilty about spending my money?” I pinch the bridge of my nose between my eyes, feeling a throb behind my temples.

“Not the point,” I whisper, grinding my jaw in frustration. “I don’t have a choice but to take it. But I don’t want to live having to rely on you for money. I don’t want to live on Mom and Dad’s dime, either. But at this point, I’m probably going to live here until I inherit the house. They’re already making jokes about me living here until I turn into their caregiver and it makes me feel even more pathetic.”

To my dismay, I realize tears are forming in my eyes. This sounds so fucking ungrateful because I love Mom and Dad, and they’re amazing. I know other parents would’ve kicked their kids out or issued an ultimatum, not giving a fuck about how hard they’re actually trying.

“You just want your independence,” Luca says, and the understanding in his voice makes my tears overflow, which he thankfully ignores.

“I get it. And everyone who knows you gets it. You’re headstrong, you’ve always been the independent one of us two and theone who needs a space for herself. It doesn’t make you sound ungrateful or pathetic that you feel badly about not having any influence over these things.” I gulp down more emotions as he puts exactly into words what I needed to hear. “I’m not going to pretend like I know what the job search is like. But I’d like to remind you that it took five years for me to land a proper role.”

I sniffle, wiping my tears, as he adds, “Now, how about you come to Amsterdam with us? Take your mind off things. And I promise I’ll get you a room far away from everyone else. I wasn’t kidding when I said you can do your own thing and only join us for a few dinners. I promise—no expectations.”

“But what if—”

“No ‘what ifs.’” He gets up, turning his back to me to escape my glare. “At this point, the tickets are basically booked. I’ll let you get out of it if you have a job interview, but otherwise, you’re coming along.”

Once he reaches the door, he stops and turns his head to shoot me the same proud grin he gave me at my graduation—the one that reminds me I might just have the best brother in the world after all. Maybe I should listen to him, just this once.

“Okay,” I finally whisper, wiping away tears from my face. “Damn it. When’s the flight?”

Tanner

“Fancy running into you here.”

Reed startles when I clasp his shoulder from behind before he turns around with a glare that quickly turns into a grin.

“Tanner! Almost didn’t recognize you, it’s been forever.”

“Ha. Ha,” I say dryly as I fall into step with him. Like we didn’t run into each other last week in the gym. “Is it time for you to get glasses already?”

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