“Did you die yesterday?” Jax asks over the banjo or ukulele or whatever other hipster stringed instrument is blasting from the speakers. “Twenty-four hours with no Abbs. It was rough.”
“Sorry,” I say, but I doubt he buys it because I’m smiling so wide.
“Shiiiiiit,” he says. “Somebody got some.”
“I did not get some,” I say. “Wait—get some is sex, right? I did not have sex.”
“I like to think it has a more fluid definition than that,” Jax says, and I make a face. “What?”
“‘Fluid’? Gross.”
“Mature, Abbs. C’mon. What’s the haps?”
“First, I should tell you that I tried to talk to Gaby for you and … honestly, Jax, I am not a good hype man. Hype woman. Whatever. I’m sorry.”
“It’s fine,” he says. “Stop withholding important info.”
So I tell him. The spilled beer and the bathroom floor and the kissing. The Italian restaurant and the photography show and the band and the gelato afterward. Being walked to my doorway like I’m old-fashioned and special.
To Jordi, I think I’m special.
“Hell yeah,” Jax says.
“She’s so great,” I say. “Like, I can’t believe how great she is. I feel like … how am I the only one to figure it out? There should be a million girls fighting me for her.”
“That sounds incredible,” Jax says. “Describe the fighting and the girls.”
I elbow him. “You’re a cliché.”
We end up at The Fix on Hyperion, which we seriously could have walked to from my house. Jax’s car love will kill the planet and his physical fitness, I swear. Playing lacrosse can only do so much, right? The constant car-driving and beer-drinking and burger-eating must outweigh it.
Honestly, I’m not even sure what lacrosse is.
I’m still really glad Jax is my friend.
I’m outside of Jordi’s gate early on Monday, but she appears almost as soon as I arrive.
“Hi,” I say but only partially because she covers my mouth with hers. It is a perfect greeting.
“So I’ve been thinking about it,” she says, taking my hand and starting down the sidewalk. “We can’t let Maggie know. Or anyone else at Lemonberry.”
“Why not?” I ask, because how can I not talk about this? How can I sit near her without my hand in hers? How can I not look at Jordi like I’m poisoned and she’s the only antidote?
“Abby, it’s work,” she says with a little smile. “We’re professionals.”
“Ugh, that’s right, we are.” I let go of her hand. “I’ll try not to smile too much.”
“You smile all the time,” Jordi says. “It won’t be suspicious.”
“Jax said I was smiling extra yesterday,” I say. “He totally figured it out.”
“When do I get to meet Jax?” she asks. “I still have doubts about his existence.”
“Jax would be the weirdest imaginary friend ever,” I say. “I’m sure you’ll meet him soon. He can be tough to escape. So, are you free Saturday? This coming Saturday? Five days from now?”
“Abby, I understand how days of the week work. And, yes. Second date?”
“Second date!” We round the corner, and Lemonberry comes into sight. “Okay. I’m taming back my happiness.”
“Just outwardly, Abby,” she says, and I laugh.
“Hey, girls.” Maggie walks up from the opposite direction. “I’m exhausted. Mondays are terrible. Let’s go get coffee before we go in.”
We walk down the street to Starbucks. My hand bumps Jordi’s a few times but I manage not to hold on. I’m also fairly certain that I have a normal smile on my face and not an obnoxious one.
It’s tough judging that about yourself, though.
“So I got some fun news this morning,” Maggie says while we’re in line to order. “There’s a sort of pop-up fashion show for local designers happening downtown this week, and Lemonberry will be part of it.”
“Oh my god, that’s amazing,” I say. “It’s so cool that fashion is happening outside of fancy upscale places in nontraditional—sorry. I’m geeking out.”
“Abby, you have no idea how much I love that you’re geeking out,” Maggie says with a huge smile, but then turns to Jordi. “Would you happen to be free on Saturday? I’d love you to take photos of the show.”
Jordi makes eye contact with me and I nod, and then worry I’m relaying the wrong info, so I shake my head, and I can see in her eyes that she still has no idea what I’m trying to communicate.
“You’ll get such cool shots,” I say. Jordi smiles, in this very understated way I am not sure how to duplicate. “Maggie, I’m free too, and I can totally be there to post stuff and—”
“Abby, you’re a doll to offer, but I can only bring so many people, and, anyway, you should enjoy your night off. I feel terrible enough I’m dragging Jordi in on the weekend. I’m not going to ruin both of your nights. And, Jordi, you can take one day off next week to make up for it. Sound good?”
No, none of it sounds good, but I nod anyway. Of course, Maggie’s talking to Jordi and not me so it’s even weirder that I’m lie-nodding.
“I’m sorry,” Jordi murmurs while Maggie steps up to order a complicated latte. I hadn’t realized a latte could have so many specifications.
“It’s fine,” I say. “We can reschedule.”
“Not just that,” she says. “You’d love being there, probably more than me.”
“It’s really okay,” I say, even though I’m not sure I’d feel the same way if I wasn’t now going out with Jordi. It’s an opportunity I’m not getting, and of course Jordi’s going to shine. She’ll impress the hell out of Maggie and whoever else sees the photos. She’ll impress people merely by shooting photos in front of them because she’s such an obvious professional. How couldn’t anyone see that?
But Jordi didn’t ask for special treatment, and also it’s not Maggie’s fault that Jordi’s so good at what she does. There’s just really
