Page 6 of Under My Skin
“You say they’re toonoisy.”
“They are.”
“So why aren’t you home?”
I hesitate. I’ve kept my feelings about living with Jasmine to myself. The last thing I want to do is guilt trip my best friend.
Her eyes widen. “Oh, my god. She’s making it impossible for you to work, isn’t she?”
“No,” I answer a little too quickly. “She’s fine. I just needed a change of scenery. She sleeps most of the day, anyway.”
But even with her sleeping all day, it doesn’t take away the mess she makes each night. As I sat at my desk today, all I could think about was the state of the kitchen floor and how badly I wanted to vacuum her midnight crumbs, but I didn’t want to be an asshole and vacuum while she was sleeping. So, coming to this coffee shop and working with headphones seemed like the better option.
“Okay . . . as long as the living arrangement is working out.” Her eyes hold mine, but I won’t crack. She’s radiating that “I love my new wife” bliss, and it should stay that way.
“It’s great,” I lie with my best smile.
Her eyes narrow slightly before she relaxes and says, “Okay, good.” My shoulders ease until she adds, “Any word from your parents?”
The tension in my muscles returns, and I shake my head. “Nope.”
“Damn,” she mutters. “Tomorrow is Friday. What are they going to do, wait until the last minute and expect you to hop on the next flight?”
I close my laptop. “Probably, but I already booked it. I bought a ticket as soon as I saw the house listing.”
“No shit?” She reaches for my cup, taking the lid off and tipping it in her direction to see how much is left. I’ve only drank a little. It’s hard for anything to settle in my stomach right now. I’ve been too stressed, too hurt, too busy dealing with my parents not being the people I thought they were.
“Hold on. I’m getting a drink. We’ll be here a while.” Shequickly secures the lid back onto the cup, slides it in my direction, and hops up from her seat. There’s no line at the counter this late in the afternoon, so it only takes her a minute to order her drink and pay. By the time she’s put her card back in her wallet, the barista hands her, no doubt, a cup of green tea. Allison always drinks green tea.
The black metal chair skids across the dark tile floor as she settles across from me again. Despite the shop’s use of dark décor, the place still manages to feel light and open thanks to the huge windows lining the walls.
Cupping her tea with both hands, she gently blows on the hot liquid. “So, what time am I taking you to the airport tomorrow?”
Her offer warms something inside me, but I have no problem quickly turning her down. “You don’t have to do that. The day before you have a wedding?” I shake my head. “No way.”
“Stop.” She says the word so adamantly that I have no choice but to give her my full attention. When my eyes meet hers again, she smiles. “What time am I taking you to the airport?”
My shoulders drop in defeat. “Four.”
Allison lets out a snort of laughter. “You took the latest flight out, didn’t you?”
The corner of my mouth lifts. “I’m still doing the finishing touches on the logo for the winery. I want to try to finish it as much as I can before I leave.”
She tilts her head, still firmly holding her cup between both hands. “Because you’re taking a break from work while you’re home?”
She arches a brow, and I cave. “I might bring my laptop.”
There’s no audible tsking as she shakes her head, but I still somehow hear it. “You work too much, Lucy. You make your own schedule, and you still work too much.”
This isn’t the first time she’s said this, but I fight the urge to let my eyes roll. There’s some truth to what she’s saying, but that’s what happens when the side business you’re passionate aboutbecomes your main source of income. For years, doing this full time was my dream. I put in all the late nights and early mornings, trying to kick off a business from the ground up while still working my shitty cubicle job for a company selling audio-visual equipment. There wasn’t a spare moment in my day that wasn’t productive. My lunch breaks were spent emailing clients, and I’d work on design projects before and after work. Hell, even as I brushed my teeth, I was usually scrolling through color pallets to get inspired.
Being that committed to something makes it hard to scale back. Now I feel like every moment not spent on my business is another moment wasted—except when I can’t stop looking at my childhood bedroom on Zillow apparently.
Instead of admitting she’s right, I take a sip. “I’m going to need an escape from whatever I’m walking into with my family. Let me have the laptop.”
Her lips purse, but eventually she gives a sharp nod before carefully bringing her cup to her lips and blowing. “Fine, but only because you’re going through an existential crisis.”
“Thank you.”
