She laughs. “There really is pozole. I’m not bringing you into my house under false pretenses.”
Maggie walks out of her office. “Jordi, I meant to ask you the other day, how’s your prep for your show going? Is there anything I can help with? I know you’re taking on a lot.”
“Thanks,” she says, and I see how something in her shoulders tightens. “I’m not sure there’s anything to help with. I just hope that people like it. I keep second-guessing myself.”
“Trust your instincts,” Maggie says. “The first time I did a show, one of my friends said that my work all looked too retro, and so the week, before I ripped up a ton of my work to modernize it.” Maggie shakes her head. “It didn’t even look like me anymore. And all the feedback I got that day said I should have fully embraced the vintage looks that had clearly inspired me.”
“So from then on you did?” I ask, even though I’m not sure I’m technically in this conversation, just in the room.
“Exactly,” Maggie says with a smile. “Learn from my fashion disaster.”
“Jordi’s stuff is all amazing,” I say. “She seriously has nothing at all to be worried about. People will love it.”
“It’s very hard putting yourself out there, Abby,” Maggie says gently. “Especially for the first time.”
I feel chastened. Jordi looks smug, or at least smug for Jordi.
“But listen to your girlfriend,” she tells Jordi. “Abby has a great eye. She wouldn’t believe in you if she didn’t really see something special in your work.”
Jordi makes a frustrated noise. “This would probably be easier if you still thought we were just colleagues.”
Maggie laughs. “Too late. You’ll have to deal with my undying support of your work and your relationship now.”
We excuse ourselves for lunch, but once we’re at Jordi’s house, we forget all about the pozole.
Jax picks me up on the early side the next day so we can head all the way across Los Angeles to eat at the Apple Pan. It’s a tiny diner with no booths or tables, just stools all the way around their giant counter, which practically fills the entire restaurant.
“We only have to do the Eastside,” he says for the millionth time while we’re studying menus.
“I know, but this place is a classic,” I say. “Jordi and I were looking at some articles about the best burgers in LA and—”
“You’re planning burger stuff with Jordi?” Jax asks. “Abbs, I thought what we have is special.”
“Have you tried mentioning this to anyone else?” I ask. “Everyone has an opinion on where we should be getting burgers. Jordi is no exception.”
“You could invite her,” he says. “I guess. If you want.”
His tone sounds a lot like when I’m not feeling casual but really want everyone to think I am.
“I thought what we have is special?” I ask, and he grins. It feels a little like Jax is glad to have me to himself, a lot like how grateful I am to hang out with Maliah without Trevor. Can that be true, though? Sometimes it’s hard for me to remember that I guess boys have feelings, too. I seriously don’t know how straight and bi girls manage.
“How’s it going?” he asks as the counter guy serves us our sodas. They’re actually soda cans served with little paper cones filled with ice and fitted into metal holders. This is how I suspect they’ve served soda here since they opened way back in the 1940s. On one hand, I think we’ve really evolved into better drinking options, but on the other, I also love when L.A.’s history is still right in front of you. Even with something small like soda.
“You guys ready?” the counter guy asks, and I order the Hickoryburger while Jax chooses the Steakburger. I convince him to split an order of fries so we have room for pie later.
“Things are good with Jordi,” I say to Jax once our order’s in. “I guess. I mean, they are for me. I assume they are for her. It’s so weird someone could like me this much.”
“Oh, shut the hell up,” he says. “You know your girl likes you. We all do. She watches you like you’re the most interesting thing on the fucking planet. Like she’s gonna jump your bones the second you’re alone. Which, ya know, if you want to give any details …”
“Stop,” I tell him, though I also feel myself smiling. If other people can see it, too, it must be real. “It still feels like maybe it’s magic. Sci-fi and not a documentary. You know?”
Somehow our food is already up, and so Jax doesn’t respond right away. I even assume he’s forgotten the thread of conversation as we wolf down our burgers and fries and then input our judgments into Best Blank.
“I was gonna yell at you about your self-esteem,” Jax says. “But maybe when it’s really good, it’s supposed to feel like it’s sci-fi. Aliens and laser beams and shit.”
“Has it been like that for you?” I ask.
“Shit, Abbs, I’m still waiting for it. But since you brought it up, I gotta tell you about this new barista at Proof.”
“Nope,” I tell him, but we both crack up and I lean in for the story.
CHAPTER 22
I change outfits five times the night of Jordi’s show. I start with loud and then try to go neutral and then I wonder if I should look artsier to be a better pairing with Jordi and then I think I should complement her instead so I’m back at loud. That seems too loud, so I find everything in my closet that looks sophisticated. But I don’t look like myself so I pull on my birthday Lemonberry dress, my pineapple necklace, and step into my yellow sandals. I’m not sure that I look like the girlfriend of an amazing photographer, but since that’s exactly
