Chapter 5
Millie
The cushions dip beneath me as Pepper, my spoiled rescue pup, hops up next to where I’m sprawled out on the couch. She plops
down beside my head, scooting her white muzzle into my neck until I give in and pet her.
I’ve been in this exact position since I got home from work this afternoon. Laid out on the couch, attempting to decompress
after the highs and lows of my jumbled emotions today.
The interview went okay, I think, other than the constant distraction of Finn in the room. I put dedicated effort into not
looking his way, but I could feel his gaze on me like a hot poker, searing into my skin.
They had a few tricky questions, but I feel good about how my answers sounded. I shoved my swirling anxiety aside enough to
at least sound like I had the confidence to be the head of the department.
A set of keys jangles outside the front door before Lena pushes it open. She kicks it shut behind her and drops her bags to
the floor with a loud thump .
“What are we having for dinner? I’m so close to hangry I could just eat a fork,” she says with a groan.
I met Lena in college, at a coffee shop where I’d gone to study for my Shakespearean literature final, not knowing they were hosting an open mic night. The urge to study disappeared when I ended up completely distracted by my future best friend’s performance. Lena’s dark curls and smoky eyes were stunning under the dim spotlight as she spent five minutes reciting a ghost story she’d memorized, with character voices and enthusiastic movements. She jumped across the stage and threw her body on the ground in a death scene at the end that had everyone riveted.
After she stood from her fake death and bowed, she walked right over to the table where I sat alone with my notebook and laptop
and dropped into the empty chair.
We’ve been best friends ever since.
“Want to relax, order takeout, and watch Gilmore Girls ?” I ask, without moving an inch from my position.
She pulls off her black shirt, leaving her standing in the living room in a sparkly red bra and leggings. “Fuck yes. Those
kids took it out of me today. My feet are sore, and I want to live in pajamas forever.”
Lena is an elementary school art teacher during the school year and leads art classes at the Wilhelmina Community Center during
the summer.
Tilting my head, I narrow my eyes in suspicion at her bra. “Weird choice for work.”
She shrugs. “It was my only clean option. But now it’s time to get out of it. Freedom is so close.” She struts past me toward
her bedroom door.
“Free the tits,” I call, fist in the air.
“Honestly, getting out of this thing will probably solve all my life problems,” she shouts from her bedroom. “Maybe I’m not
hangry—I’m booby-trapped.”
Once we’re both braless and in pajamas, with Thai takeout in our hands, Lena and I sink into our cozy sectional, curled up with weighted blankets and glasses of sparkling water. Plants cover every surface and hang in the windows of our living room. It’s our little jungle oasis, hidden from the rest of the world.
“How did your day go?” Lena asks over her box of chicken pad Thai.
I recount the parking lot events, and Lena’s eyes grow wider with every detail until she can’t stay quiet anymore. “Mills.
That’s wild.” She sets her food down and faces me. “Dr. Black Hole is in charge of whether or not you get a promotion?”
I swallow my bite. “He’s not in charge of it, but he is one of the people on the committee, yes.”
Lena lets out a squeal of delight. “This is perfect. Do you think you could take a picture of him for me?” Lena pleads with
sad puppy eyes. “I need a visual when I’m examining this story. The way you’re describing him, he’s giving hot-professor vibes.”
I adamantly ignore the fact that she is a little bit right in her imagery and roll my eyes. “Yeah, sure. Next time he’s frowning
at me, I’ll tell him to hold that pose while I snap a photo for you.”
“Wonderful. Thank you.” She pats my leg. “Now tell me about the interview.”
***
The heavy clouds outside give the museum a dark, introspective mood as I run through the doors the next morning. I hurry past
Eleanor and the gift shop manager with a quick greeting and wave—too late to visit.
I rush down the entomology hallway, past the display room, the archive collection, and laboratory rooms, and stumble into our office. As I pass my assistant curator Micah’s desk and round mine, my eyes land on a coffee cup with Maggie’s logo printed on the side, sitting atop a green Post-it with neat handwriting.
I’m sorry about your coffee.
—F
Setting my bag on the ground, I pick up the cup. The warmth of its contents seeps into my fingers as I turn it around to check
the label.
Americano with vanilla syrup and half-and-half. Exactly the way I like it.
My brows stitch together. He must’ve noticed my order when he threw my cup away Monday morning.
I take a tentative sip, and the earthy, sweet taste is absolutely perfect on my tongue.
Confusion prickles in my mind. This is an odd gesture, especially for the man who has grumbled and glared at me every moment
since we met. The sharp change from yesterday feels a bit like whiplash.
With a flick of my computer mouse, I wake the monitor and open a new email.
TO: Finn Ashford
FROM: Millie Oaks
SUBJECT: Coffee
Good morning,
I arrived at my office to find a coffee on my desk. The note is signed by “F.” Would that perhaps be you? I’ve spilled coffee on so many people this week, so I’m not certain it’s from you.
If it was not you, then this is awkward, and please disregard.
If this coffee is from you, thank you. It’s delicious.
Sincerely,
Millie Oaks
Curator, Entomology Department
I read through it a few times to make sure it seems like a standard thank-you email. It passes my inspection, so I click send
before I can overthink it.
To my surprise, his reply arrives a few minutes later.
TO: Millie Oaks
FROM: Finn Ashford
SUBJECT: Re: Coffee
Hello Millie,
I am guilty of delivering coffee to your desk this morning. I had hoped to catch you in person, but Eleanor said you weren’t
in yet.
Maggie’s is not my usual coffee stop, but I enjoyed my own coffee from there this morning. Is there anything else you recommend?
My next episode of Star Trek is starting now. I must boldly go where no real astronomer has gone before.
Best,
Finn Ashford
Director, Astronomy Department
I reread his email three times, startled by the humor in it.
Apparently, this is friendly Finn—a side of him I’ve never met. This Finn jokes about my sassy comments and delivers coffee
to me as an apology.
Bringing the paper cup to my lips, I grin behind it before taking a sip. I picture his tall, brooding form standing in the
line at Maggie’s with the intent of buying me a coffee. His scowl is still in place as he orders it, but there’s something oddly endearing about the pinch between his
brows and the way his lips turn down at the corners.
With a shake of my head, I try to clear the disorienting image and focus on a natural reply.
TO: Finn Ashford
FROM: Millie Oaks
SUBJECT: Re: Re: Coffee
Finn,
You cannot go wrong at Maggie’s. It’s out of this world! They could serve me anything and I would eat it, but my personal favorite is the almond croissant. There is no better way
to start the morning than with a coffee and croissant from Maggie’s.
Is your nose okay? And have you had your car looked at? I’m still so sorry about that.
I’m glad you’re getting those episodes in before the camp kids get here next week. They’re expecting you to teach them something.
Have a good day,
Millie Oaks
That should be good. I sound normal. Butter-on-toast normal. So normal, I’m borderline boring.
Send.
TO: Millie Oaks
FROM: Finn Ashford
SUBJECT: Re: Re: Re: Coffee
Millie,
I’ll have to make a trip back to Maggie’s for an almond croissant.
My nose is no worse for the wear. I’m pretty sure it was crooked before you smashed it, so if you notice a slight lean to
it, don’t blame yourself.
My car will be fine. I got a closer look at it, and it may not even be worth taking it in.
You don’t have to apologize about the car. Accidents happen to everyone.
—Finn
I narrow my eyes at the screen as I read the last line of his email. “Accidents happen to everyone?” Is he serious? Yesterday
he couldn’t even speak an entire sentence without being rude, and now he’s just brushing the whole thing off like it doesn’t
matter? What’s changed since then?
My shoulders deflate when I realize exactly what has happened since then. My job interview.
Is this a peace offering because I did so terribly that he’s trying to soften the blow when I find out I didn’t get it? What if this is a ploy to lure me into a state of complacency before he robs me of my dream job?
His possible motives swirl through my mind until I can’t think straight anymore. Eyeing the coffee cup, I sigh before taking
the last sip and dropping it into the trash beside my desk. I lift my shoulders and let out a sharp breath. I already lost
myself to one manipulative jerk in my lifetime, and I refuse to do it again. No matter how good the coffee is.