“I got you a present.” Maggie hands me a bag from a fabric store. “That’s everything you said you wanted for your project.”
“Maggie, you totally didn’t have to. I just wanted your advice on where I could find it.” I look in the bag and see every single thing I asked about: black canvas, sage green canvas, a shiny gunmetal fabric, and—“Oh my god, Hello Kitty fabric exists!”
“I told you that I’d seen it before,” she says. “I also thought you’d want to put a pouch in the bag, so I got you an extra zipper, and hardware for the strap so you can make it adjustable.”
“Whoa,” I say. “I think that’s past my ability level. I just made, like, a couple bags that my mom’s using for grocery shopping. Zippers?”
“I think only the Amish are allowed to be overwhelmed by zippers,” Maggie says. “And, silly, I’ll be helping you. Are you doing anything tonight? You can stop by my house. Wait, I’m sorry. Is that appropriate? I have no idea.”
I can’t even imagine what Maggie’s house must be like, if her workspace is weird piles of paper and her clothing is faded concert T-shirts and expensive but very worn jeans.
I would, obviously, really like to see it.
“I’m free tonight,” I tell her. Sure, I’ve gotten some texts from Jax about getting burgers, but that can wait. Ever since I got the idea to make a bag for Jordi, I’ve wanted to actually do it, but I knew I wasn’t even ready enough to mention it to Maggie much less make it before practicing more at home. Mom now has a whole set of green bags of varying quality to take to Gelson’s and the Atwater Village Farmers’ Market.
“Great. If you don’t mind hanging around a little later than usual, I can drive you from here. Sound good? Again, unless it’s too weird.”
“I don’t think it’s weird,” I say. “Or I don’t care, because I definitely need your help on this. You’re really okay giving up your evening to help me?”
Jordi walks in from the front, camera in hand.
“Of course, Abby,” Maggie says.
I realize I have the bag from the fabric store wide open, so I quickly close it and roll it so that there’s no way anyone could see into it. Maggie seems to notice me doing it, but she doesn’t say anything.
“I was going to eat,” Jordi says. “If it’s a good time for you to break, too.”
“It is.” I try not to glance at Maggie to survey her face for signs of suspicion. It would be normal for Jordi and me to hang out at work if we were just fellow interns, wouldn’t it? Ugh, maybe not, considering that we’re also rivals for the job. Hopefully our friendliness just adds to whatever professionalism we’re already projecting.
I know my parents are out running errands today, so Jordi and I head there under the guise of leftover zucchini pizza bites in our fridge. But of course we head back hungry, because once we were alone inside, she leaned into me and my hands outlined all her lean curves. Almost like magic, we were on my bed, and now that we’re in public again, almost back at work, I feel like we pulled off some brilliant heist. How could a standard lunchbreak compare to making out with Jordi Perez?
“You look suspiciously happy,” Jordi tells me as we approach Lemonberry.
“Too happy for getting a burrito at Hugo’s?” I ask, since that had been our cover story. But I’m still smiling as scenes replay in my head.
“Definitely out of proportion for burritos,” she says, and there’s something about her knowing look that cuts right through me and makes me feel all melty.
“It’s weird that now you’ve seen me without my shirt on,” I blurt out, even though I wasn’t even thinking it, and, also, no no no. “Sorry, I mean—”
We are literally back at the front door of Lemonberry, which would be the wrong place to have this conversation even if it was a conversation we should be having. Also, obviously, I know why I said it and how much I hope Jordi assures me. And why, if something can be completely out of your head as it happens, can it come back to haunt you later?
“Weird is not the word I’d use,” Jordi says, and then smiles.
“Okay,” I say.
“How were those burritos?” Maggie asks, walking up behind us.
“Really good,” I say quickly.
“Agreed,” Jordi says, looking right at me. I’m melty again.
Inside the store, Jordi’s tasked with breaking down a bunch of boxes in the back while I’m reorganizing the jewelry cases. My phone buzzes in my pocket, and even though it’s unprofessional, I sneak it out while Laine’s talking to a customer and Maggie’s nowhere to be found.
not weird. beautiful.
I look up into one of the floor-length store mirrors, trying to see what Jordi sees. I picture her camera pointed at me and the resulting image, but it still doesn’t make sense to me.
Maggie’s ready to head out tonight at the same time Jordi and I would be getting off work anyway, so I wave good-bye to Jordi and follow Maggie outside to her Jeep. It’s surprisingly mostly clutter-free.
“I let Jordi know that I’m helping you with a project,” Maggie says. “I didn’t want her to worry it was any kind of favoritism.”
Obviously I don’t mention that I’ve already halfway explained this to Jordi on our way to my house today, and, even more obviously, the half I left out was that my sewing project is for her. I wish there had been a way I could have completed it before she gave me the necklace, but at least I’m finally getting started.
Maggie’s house is on a green and quiet street in Glassell Park, which is about halfway between my part of LA and Highland Park. It’s a small house like ours, but inside the chaos seems controlled and not at all cluttered like I’d expected. There
