8
Side by side.
I’ve never had a boyfriend before, and it shows. Not that Scott is my boyfriend. Not that this is even a date. We’re just hanging out right now.
Oh my gosh, I’m making myself cringe.
Shut up, Lucille.
“You okay?” Scott asks.
I nod a little too quickly and take the seat next to his, sliding the cup of water over.
“There’s more water, if you run out.” I pause after that sentence leaves my mouth, then shake my head in embarrassment. “You know, because you might not have a reliable source of water at your house.”
Scott grins. “Thanks, Lucy.”
“No problem.”
He unwraps his burger and takes a bite. “So, how was your day?”
“Good. Just went to work.” I shove a few fries in my mouth, then point one at Scott as I continue. “Your sister surprised me with McDonald’s hash browns this morning, so that was pretty great.”
“McDonald’s and In-N-Out,” he says. “My kind of woman.”
That singular comments sends my nerves spiraling into outer space, so I chug some water and move the conversation along. “Um, how was your day?”
“Pretty good,” he says around a mouthful of burger. “Spent most of the day staring at the computer, editing. I did get out for a run though. Weather’s been perfect for it.”
“You know what I did instead of going to the gym?” I ask.
“What?”
“I went to Party City.”
Scott’s easy smile returns. “We probably walked around that store twenty times. That’s gotta count for something.”
“Hopefully.”
We munch in silence for awhile, then a thought occurs to me.
“Scott.”
“Yeah?”
“When did you know you wanted to be a videographer?”
“Hmm…” He wipes his hands with a napkin, staring ahead as he thinks. “I guess it must have been when I was around fourteen or fifteen. That family friend I mentioned, Daniel, gave me his old camera back then. I started experimenting with it and really enjoyed it.”
“And that was it?” I ask.
He turns to me. “What do you mean?”
I purse my lips. “How did you know that that was your thing? Like, how did you know it was the thing you wanted to do for the rest of your life?”
He rests one elbow on the table, the other on the top of his chair as he faces me. “I don’t know it’s the thing I want to do for the rest of my life.”
“What?” I blink at him. “But… I thought it was your thing. You know, your passion, or… your dream.”
Scott shakes his head. “Sure, I like doing it, and I knew I wanted to give it a try when I was old enough, and I’ll keep doing it for now, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to do it forever. Who knows? Maybe I’ll lose all my clients tomorrow. Maybe in a year or two I’ll find something I want to do more. It’s not set in stone.”
I continue to look at him, my brow furrowed. My perception of Scott as this paragon of life-planning is starting to crack.
He turns back to his meal, grabbing a few fries and dipping them in ranch. “People put too much pressure on themselves to find their ‘passion,’ or just one thing that they’re supposed to spend the rest of their lives doing. I don’t think it’s supposed to be that big of a deal. I think you should try a lot of things. How will you ever actually figure out what it is you want to do if you’re too busy stressing about the fact that you don’t know what you want to do? Besides, even if you try ten things in a row that don’t work out, or that you end up hating, you still learn plenty along the way that’ll help you when you find something you do love to do. And as long as you keep trying things, you’ll find something you love, guaranteed.”
I pick up my own burger mechanically, his words rolling around in my brain.
Could he be right?
“That was the idea behind me suggesting a gap year,” he says, pulling my attention back to him. “Which is how you ended up becoming Monica’s PA, right? By trying things?”
“Sort of.”
“Do you like being a PA?”
I toss my burger wrapper back in the bag and wipe my hands on a napkin. “I’ve gotten pretty good at it, and I’ve learned a lot.”
“But do you like it?”
Scott watches me, waiting patiently for my answer. It’s the same question he asked me on Saturday. Everyone tells me how lucky I am to have my job, and I know it’s true. I know someone like me is extremely lucky to be Monica’s PA. I know working for her is a privilege. I know the last four years have been a great learning opportunity for me.
That’s why I know I’m being selfish and lazy whenever I admit I hate my job. I don’t enjoy the constant stress, the urge to continually check my phone and make sure I didn’t miss a call or text, the knowledge that any of my plans may need to be cancelled at the last minute. But that’s just the job, and I need to suck it up, so I keep my feelings to myself and remind myself to be grateful for it.
My phone buzzes before I can answer Scott’s repeated question, and I instinctually reach for it. It’s a text from Monica.
Monica: Could you come in early tomorrow? :00?
Me: Yes!
Monica: Okay. Please pick up coffee on the way. Get yourself one, too.
Me: Will do.
The typing bubble appears again, bouncing in place for several seconds.
Monica: I sent you an email.
I leave the messages app and switch over to my email, searching through a few new ones from Monica until I find the one she must have been referring to.
It reads: I need to fly out to Georgia to meet with Fred. Please book a flight asap. I’d like to leave Monday, come back Thursday.
I glance at Scott. “Um, sorry, I have to take care of something.”
“No worries,” he says, though he looks a little bothered.
I stand and grab my laptop bag from where I dropped it by the door next to the trombone case and pull out my laptop, sitting back down at the table. Scott waits patiently, finishing up his fries as I find flights leaving from Monica’s preferred airport, then send her screenshots of the two best options. After she chooses one, I book it for her, then email her the details. She replies with a thumbs up emoji, as usual. After checking the emails once more and making mental notes of my tasks already piling up for tomorrow, I close my laptop and turn my attention back to Scott.
“Sorry,” I apologize. “It was Monica.”
“Always on call, huh?”
I nod, giving my best attempt at a smile, which ends up being a half smile. “It’s part of the job.”
“What’s that thing?” Scott asks, gesturing to the trombone case in the corner.
“Oh,” I wrinkle my nose. “Monica was renting a trombone from a music store for her daughter. I’m supposed to return it.”
Scott blinks, looking… confused? Frustrated?
“You okay?” I ask, tilting my head. “Do you have a traumatic history with trombones?”
He turns to me and shakes his head, his lip twitching at my joke. “No. It’s just… why can’t she return it?”
“She’s busy with more important things. Stuff like that is part of my job. Speaking of which,” I say, reaching for the bags of party favors, “I’d better get started on these.”
“Me too,” he says.
“Scott, you really don’t have to—”
“I want to help, Lucy. I’m happy to.”
His eyes meet mine, his expression soft and genuine, and of course, I stop arguing and let him help.
It takes us about an hour to put together all the bags, though we would have finished much sooner if Scott wasn’t such a goofball. Just as we start to clean up, Scott points to one of my charcoal drawings currently framed and hanging on the wall. It’s one of Stephanie’s favorites, because it’s a portrait of her family’s dog, which has lived an impressively long life.
“Did you draw this?” He asks.
I nod. “Mhm. Like, three years ago.”
“Wow. It looks great!”
“Thanks,” I say, feeling awkward. I told Stephanie to take that down a long time ago. She loves the drawing, but all I can see are the flaws.
Scott looks away from the drawing to me. “Do you have any other drawings I could see?”
I look up at him. “I don’t really draw all that often anymore. It takes a lot of time.”
“Oh, come on, Lucy. Please?”
I stare at him for a few more seconds, then sigh.
“Alright,” I say. “Wait here. I have to find my sketchbook.”
“Cool,” he grins.
I head back to my bedroom and open the drawer of my desk, where I keep my sketchbooks, then pull out the one on top. It’s a large, spiral bound sketchbook with plain white paper; the one I use for all of my pencil portraits. I’ve tried a lot of mediums and several styles of art, but pencil portraits have always been my favorite.
I do a quick flip through, checking to make sure it isn’t full of drawings I’d scrapped or pieces I’m unhappy with. I haven’t used it in about three months or so. The last drawing is still left unfinished, a sketch I was working on of a random woman reading a book at a café. The basic sketch is there, but I’d only gotten halfway through shading it in before I stopped that day.
I’ve kept Scott waiting long enough, so I walk back out to the living area where he’s waiting, sitting on the edge of the couch. He stands quickly when he sees me.
“You can look through this one,” I say, holding out my sketchbook awkwardly.
He takes it and opens it carefully, flipping through the pages. I can’t stand watching him, so I pretend to make myself busy, piling up the party favor bags and throwing away the excess trash.
“Lucy,” he says, walking over to me, “these are all so good!”
“You don’t have to say that.”
“I know I don’t have to. I really mean it. These drawings are great! Why don’t you draw more often?”
I frown. “Because. My drawing ability is middling at best. There are so many artists who are so much better than I’ll ever be. It’s hard to stay motivated when I see what they can draw compared to me.”
“You don’t have to be the best at everything. What matters is if you enjoy it. And, really, these are great drawings, Lucy.” He flips back a few pages. “This one is crazy. It looks so realistic.”
I move closer to see which drawing he’s pointing to.
“It’s alright,” I say, tilting my head as I look at it. “But see here? It’s in three quarter view, and the way I drew the far eye is a bit off. It shouldn’t look like the eye is the edge of the face, if that makes sense. The eyelids should look like they’re wrapping around it.”
“I think it’s perfect.”
Scott’s tone is low and soft, and I glance up at him, only to realize how close we’re standing, his face hovering above mine. His green eyes and sharp cologne command my senses, the shadow of a day’s growth of stubble peeks out on his chin, and the warmth of his closeness takes the edge off the chill in the room. Despite my knowledge of personal space boundaries telling me the polite thing to do would be to step away, I can’t bring myself to move.
He smiles and leans a little closer, his head resting gently against the top of mine as he turns another page in the sketchbook. “What about this one?”
“That… that one… um…” At this moment, my brain has decided to stop working, and I can no longer speak English. Instead, I opt for a sigh, and lean back against Scott without even realizing it. He doesn’t object, and continues to quietly flip through my sketchbook while my head flies off to la la land.
I’m snapped out of my trance when the front door slams open and Jessie’s cheery voice reaches deep into my eardrums and shakes my brain awake. I stiffen and jump forward, creating distance between Scott and I.
He shoots me a concerned look. “You okay?”
But there’s no time to answer. Jessie spots us, and upon seeing Scott, her eyes grow wide with excitement.
“Hey Lucy!” She quickly closes the gap between all of us, a wide grin on her face. “Who’s this?”
“I’m Scott,” he says as he closes my sketchbook and reaches out to shake her hand.
At this, Jessie grows even more excited. “Oh my gosh, Scott? The one she went out with on Saturday?”
“Yes, this is Scott,” I say, my embarrassment growing. “We were just cleaning up, so—”
“I thought things didn’t work out with you two!”
I freeze, unable to believe what I’m hearing. “What?”
Jessie puts her hands on her hips. “You said you ruined the date on Saturday. But if he’s here, obviously you didn’t. You were all depressed for no reason!”
Oh my gosh, this is not happening right now.
I feel Scott’s gaze on me, but I can’t bring myself to look. My cheeks are burning hot, and I’m sure I’m bright red.
“You’re so lucky,” Jessie continues, turning her attention back to Scott. “Lucy is the best! Ugh, I wish I had a boyfriend. Oh, then we could go on a double date! That would be so much fun!”
“OKAY, Jessie,” I interrupt loudly. “Scott was just leaving. I’m going to walk him out.”
“Oh, okay!” She smiles at us. “Bye Scott! It was nice to meet you!”
“Yeah, nice meeting you,” he says, giving a smile and a wave as he follows me to the door.
Once we’re outside the apartment, I finally turn to face Scott.
“I’m sorry,” I begin, unable to hold eye contact out of sheer embarrassment. “Jessie is only eighteen and she just graduated high school a few months ago, and she’s still so squirrelly about, um… things.”
“Why are you sorry?”
I look up and meet his gaze. He looks amused, and a little concerned, and some other emotion I can’t quite place.
“You don’t need to be sorry,” he says. “Nothing she said bothered me.”
My lips part slightly in surprise. “Oh. That’s… good, then.”
“And, just so you know, you didn’t ruin anything on Saturday.” Now he’s the one blushing. “I had a great time, really.”
“I feel awful, though,” I say, shaking my head. “I was stressed because of work, but I never should have rushed off on you like that. It was so rude.”
“Lucy, it’s okay, really.” He draws my gaze to his again. His tone is so sincere, I know he means it.
“Okay.”
We both stand there at the top of the stairs, a few steps from my apartment’s front door, neither of us really wanting to say goodbye. Scott shifts his weight.
“I guess I’d better get going and let you get to bed.”
“Wait,” I say before I can second guess myself. “I didn’t ever get to answer your question on Saturday. You know, when you asked if I wanted to see you again sometime.”
Scott’s eyes widen slightly. “Do you want to?”
I nod. “Yes. Very much.”
His apprehension gives way to a massive, bright smile, and I feel like I could melt into a happy puddle on the floor. “Great! I’ll take you on a real date this time.”
Giddiness spreads through me, and I smile back. “A real date?”
“You know, like a fancy dinner and a movie. If there’s even a movie out that you want to see, I mean.”
“That sounds perfect,” I say, beaming.
“When are you free? Saturday nights don’t work, right?”
“It would probably be safest not to plan for a Saturday night,” I say apologetically.
Scott tilts his head in thought for a minute. “Then how about tomorrow night?”
“Tomorrow night?” I repeat, my heart kicking it’s pace up a notch.
“Yeah,” he nods. “Are Friday nights good for you?”
“What time?”
“I can pick you up at six, if that’s alright?”
“That works.”
“Cool,” Scott smiles again, then waves as he starts heading down the stairs. “See you tomorrow!”
“See you!”
“Hey, Lucy.”
I glance up to see Jeremiah leaning against the side of my cubicle.
“Hey,” I say, smiling, then I turn back to my work. I have a lot to do today, and I need to finish on time so I’m not late for my date with Scott.
Just thinking about it sends a thrill of nerves through my insides.
“You know it’s lunchtime, right?”
I nod. “Yeah.”
Jeremiah watches me in silence for a few more moments as I continue to work. I pause and glance back up at him.
“Um… everything okay?”
He straightens up. “I’m gonna try out that new restaurant on main street.”
“Ooo!” I bounce upright in my seat. “The burger joint?”
“Yeah.”
“You’ll have to tell me how it is,” I sigh, thinking about how amazing a cheeseburger sounds right now. Clearly, I have a fast food problem.
“Actually, I was wondering if you want to come?”
I shake my head. “I wish I could, but I have to get this work done.”
Jeremiah frowns. “You’re always working through your lunch break. Why not just come with me?”
“I really appreciate the invite, but I can’t. I want to get off on time today, so I need to make sure I get all my work done.”
“Why? You have plans tonight?”