Page 46 of Loaded

“I suppose one night of drinking won’t wither me entirely.”

He smiles. “Not entirely.”

By the time I reach work, it’s raining. Of course it is. Maybe I can blame the rain for being late. I throw the strap for my bag over my shoulder and prepare to sprint from my car to the back door. My phone dings, and I almost ignore it, but it could be Harv. If he’s already mad I’m late, I should know before I rush headlong into a lecture.

I whip it out and tap the message app.

It’s not Harv. It’s not anyone from work. It’s a number I don’t know, but I’m guessing it’s someone who got my number from Emerson.

SAW THIS AND THOUGHT OF YOU. YOU’RE TOO SPARKLY TO BE INVISIBLE FOR LONG. There’s a link.

It must be from Easton. No one else knows what happened.

The link is for the same stupid song-writing contest Octavia sent me.

I consider texting back the word STOP, because my phone blocks any number that I text that to. . .but I feel like Easton would just find a workaround. He’s probably friends with Verizon’s owner or something.

Or, if I’m being really honest, I’d admit that I don’t actually want him to stop texting me. I was kind of excited when I realized it was from him.

I’m not nearly as excited that his text was encouraging me to write non-jingle songs. It feels like there’s some kind of conspiracy of people who don’t even know me but know what’s best for me. They seem to feel like they can simply encourage me a little, and suddenly I’ll burst out of my little shell to belt out bestsellers.

I blame the stupid inspirational movies likeCoyote Uglywhere stupid junk like that is always happening. It’s always the introvert who hides in their room and works remotely until they overcome theirweaknessand suddenly can be more. Better.

Where’s the story for the introvert wholikesthe idea of working in her room? Why can’t I be perfectly satisfied with it? Extroverts who want to be in the spotlight must secretly rule the world, and that’s why they’re shoving their values off on other people. By the time I calm down enough to make the mad dash into the restaurant, I’m already braced for Harv to yell. Instead he waves me over with a smile on his face. “I didn’t think it would be you,” he says.

“I’m sorry?”

“Theo overstaffed this shift on accident, but we didn’t notice until it was about to start. So we figuredwhoever got in first would work, and whoever showed up later would get to take the night off.”

That isnotwhat I expected to hear. “Uh. Okay.”

“You’re usually early, so I figured you’d be working. Will it leave you in a bind if you take the day off?” Harv asks. “Do you need the money? We could just do smaller sections, but?—”

“It’s fine.” I did just win five hundred bucks. But on the way back out to my car, I don’t even bother jogging. I walk, slowly, as the rain pelts my face and hair, drenching my entire body. By the time I get to my car, I realize that I’m crying.

It’s been a while since I’ve done this—rain-cried.

Rain used to be my favorite. I could cry as much as I wanted, and no one would even notice. It was the best cover story for having too many feelings—feelings that don’t always fit in my body like normal people’s. That’s my real trial. I feel too much. Always have.

Thanks to my mom, I learned early how to choke them down.

But sometimes, they overflow, and when they do, I’m always grateful for a nice rain storm. I stand beside my car for a few moments before I feel ready to get in and drive home. I’m parking when my phone bings. I kill the engine and check to see who’s messaging me now. Will it be Jake or Emerson telling me to cheer up, or Easton again with another stupid pep talk?

Toss up.

But it’s not any of them.

It’s Seren. I CAN’T EVER KEEP UP WITH YOUR WORK SCHEDULE, BUT I MISS YOU. LUNCH? DINNER? TELL ME WHEN AND WHERE.

That makes me smile.

Seren always makes me smile. She makes everyone smile. She may have the saddest story I’ve ever heard, but she spreads joy like she’s a hose and joy is water. Everyone in her life is better for knowing her. I wish I was like Seren.

I’m more like a hose that sprays Eeyore-vibes.

That thought makes me laugh for some reason. And the laughter turns into crying again. If I go inside, Jake will bug me until I want to strangle him, trying to cheer me up. The problem with trying to cheer someone up is that it’s so forced, so in your face. Seren’s not like that. She just quietly exudes calm and happy energy. I could really use some of that emanating happiness right now. I JUST FOUND OUT THEY DON’T NEED ME TODAY, I text back. HAVE TIME NOW?

OF COURSE! I JUST MADE A BIG PAN OF LASAGNA, BUT DAVE IS WITH KILLIAN AT A MEET.

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