Page 4 of Love in Focus

“What the fuck, Gemma?” exclaims James. “Have you been watching us this entire time?”

I raise my eyebrows. Sonowhe decides to acknowledge my existence. Trying my best to avoid his gaze, I peer back at Daphne, instead. Her face is flushed, and she’s glaring at me with utter contempt in her eyes. I can’t say I blame her. In this one horrible moment, my coworker, my ex, and my ex’s new…somethingall stare at me, eyes wide with confusion and disbelief.

“Don’t flatter yourself,” I say, trying to ignore the heat burning up my cheeks. “I was just trying to get some printouts. Speaking of which, excuse me!”

Zeroing in on the printer like a horse with blinders, Irush in, grab the still-warm papers from the tray, and dash out before anyone else can say anything. On the off chance that James will chase me down, I speed into the elevator and repeatedly hit close.

The doors mercifully shut without incident, and I press the button for the first floor. In the sudden quiet, I feel numb all over as I lean against the back wall of the elevator. The world spins, and when I look down at my hands, it takes me a moment to register that yes, those aremyhands that have accidentally crumpled up the papers I needed for work.

I sigh. I’ll have to reprint those later.

Part of me wants to report James and Daphne to HR, but I don’t want to bethatperson. Plus, the last thing I want to do is deal with the investigations that’ll inevitably ensue from it.

How did I see them? Well, that’s a funny story…

I’d be worried about Shane exposing us all, but James, being James, probably has that department covered. Knowing him, he’s probably bribing the poor—or lucky?—guy with front-row tickets to a 49ers game right now. Tickets that James will easily get, thanks to Mom and Dad.

A part of me can’t believe I ever dated this man. And for so long, too. But then I remember all the adventures we had around the city. The countless nights we spent playing video games and binge-watching TV. All the unmet whispered promises of forever love and—okay, fine—good sex.

I’m trembling head to toe by the time the elevator doorsreopen. Instead of going back up to the fifth floor, I exit the elevator and walk to the café. Since it’s around ten a.m., it’s mostly empty except for a handful of people eating a pastry or grabbing coffee to take back up.

I sit at one of the high tables. And then, pressing my palms into my eyes, I let out a shuddering breath.

Seven years of thinking I’ve met my perfect person. Seven years of thinking I had it all figured it out. All culminating in an extremely awkward encounter inthe printer room, where he’s eagerly making out with another woman a couple of weeks after he upended my life.

I open up my phone and scroll up to a text that Kiara sent a few days ago with links to different dating apps. She’s been encouraging me to go out and meet new people, telling me I should have some fun since I’m a “free woman” now. I previously said no, because I didn’t think I was ready yet.

And I’m still definitely not ready to date or anything like that now. But after seeing James with Daphne today, I want to get drunk and meet a bunch of hot people. Ones thatdon’tmake weird caveman noises.

Thankfully, when I’m back at my desk, everyone’s working again. I can’t see James’s face from where his desk is on the opposite side of the room, but I see him hunched over his computer. Daphne and Shane are also at their respective desks, typing away as if absolutely nothing happened twenty minutes ago. What a bizarre day.

I send the documents I need to the printer again, and, while waiting for everything to print, I download a fewdating apps. But once they’ve finished loading, I can’t bring myself to open a single one.

Dating apps are daunting, especially since I know most people my age have already been on and off them. Meanwhile, I haven’t used any before now, to the extent that whenever someone writes into Dear Karl asking for advice on dating apps, I automatically forward the question to another writer who’s used them before. I wasn’t old enough to use them when they first became popular, and in college, I met people in person, like Celeste and James.

Given my track record, maybe I’m better off letting an app help me meet someone.

I end up leaving the office later than I intended to, mainly because I throw myself deep into work to avoid thinking about my own shit show of a romantic life. I’m still reading long email chains I’m cc’d on as I ride the train back to my friends’ apartment.

Things seem to be progressing slower than expected, as they often do in this industry due to the usual concoction of staff shortages, declining funds, and bureaucracy, so I have no idea who the mysterious photographer Kiara mentioned is yet. I’m not even remotely delusional enough to hope that the photographer they pair me up with will like other women, like Val had jokingly hoped. But it’ll be nice to meet and spend time with someone new, even just platonically. I love Val and Kiara, but after two weeks of living with them, I’m tired of third wheeling. Hopefully the photographer and I can at the very least bond over memories of our alma mater.

Even if shedoeshappen to be queer, I’m not sure if I’ll even have the bandwidth to start anything because the stakes, as they often are these days, are high. According to Evelyn’s emails, if we don’t generate enough clicks or print sales in the next quarter, there’s a good possibility that our parent company will rebrand the magazine altogether to focus on more profitable sectors like tech or real estate. Evelyn hasn’t explicitly said what’ll happen to us local lifestyle writers if and when this kind of rebranding happens, but I can guess the outcome. And because I don’t know anything about computers or houses, I’ll be out of a job.

Since everyone—or at least, a decent amount of people—loves love, Evelyn is hoping a big project like “Modern Love in Focus” will catch a lot of attention and will generate the necessary numbers to save our section. And I hope so, too, because I love my job. And the last thing I need right now on top of all the other turmoil I already have going on in my life is unemployment.

Despite the pressure, I’m excited for this project. “Modern Love in Focus,” as Evelyn pitched it, will feature interviews with San Franciscan couples of three different generations, starting from college students to senior citizens, about their various experiences with love. The printed magazine will have interview transcripts and gorgeous portraits of the subjects, while the digital edition will have video recordings of the interviews. It’s a cute, dream-come-true project that’s right up my alley. The biggest opportunity I’ve ever had atHorizon. I make a mental note to thank Evelyn for assigning it to me.

By the time I get off the train, I’m so stoked about the project that it doesn’t even bother me that my own personal life is a mess right now. If anything, focusing on other people’s love lives sounds like an excellent distraction from my own.

Val and Kiara’s apartment has a mostly open-plan layout, so the front door directly leads into not only the kitchen, but also the living room and Val’s office space area in the far-right corner. The only walled-off areas are the single bathroom and my friends’ bedroom, so when I step through the front door, I make direct eye contact with Val, who looks up from her multiple computer monitors.

“Hey,” she says. “Missed you at lunch today. Everything all right?”

I only then realize I’d been so determined to distract myself from what happened this morning that I’d totally skipped lunch. As if on cue, my stomach growls.

“Not really,” I reply. “But I’ll tell you the full story later.”

“’Kay.”

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