Chapter 28
28
Lucy
I spend the rest of Sunday evening folding laundry and eating more Thai food. I thought I’d be sick of it by now but with so many menu options and Dexter’s agreement that there’s nothing better than a meal completed with mango sticky rice, I couldn’t be swayed to choose something else.
So we lounge on the couch, stuffing our faces and discussing all the times we missed each other. How I thought of him from thousands of miles away and how he found any excuse to bring me up in conversation with Nat and Hayden. Asking how I was doing, hoping he’d catch me on the phone with my sister. All those times when we could’ve just picked up the phone and called each other.
We finally book our flights to Hawaii. Dexter helps me look into shipping costs to send some of my things back home so I won’t have to take my entire suitcase I’ve been living out of with me to Hawaii. He switches on his PlayStation while I fill out forms for the renter’s insurance claim. The property manager emailed me the paperwork, finally sealing the deal to end my lease agreement. I was relieved when I got the email notification, since I still need the money to replace my laptop, and grateful I didn’t have to reach out with legal threats or a bad Yelp review. I just hoped whatever I get from the insurance is enough to cover a new one.
Over the chaotic yet somehow comforting clicks of his PlayStation controller and the sun slowly eclipsing behind skyscrapers, I sit by Dexter’s side and finish sending off everything to the insurance company. I online shop for a bridesmaids dress using the color swatches Nat sent me, and Dexter gives me his full attention every time I show him a new dress, following up each approving nod with comments like, “I like the straps on that one” or, “That one would look really nice on you.” We call Janet after dinner time, checking in on her while she receives yet another round of antibiotics, and she smiles at us as we squish together to fit on the narrow phone screen.
By the end of the night, when we’re both stifling yawns, we meander our way to our separate bedrooms. I don’t want to leave his side, and it seems like he doesn’t want to leave mine. He lingers at my doorway, loosely holding on to my hand and crowding me against the frame.
“So…we should do this again sometime.”
I laugh, feeling like I’m floating on a big, fluffy cloud. He tucks his hand under my chin and brings my lips to his, and we both melt into this deep, lingering kiss that makes me flash through every kiss I’ve ever had, trying to remember if I’ve ever been kissed like this.
He presses his hand against the hard surface of the doorframe next to my right ear and looks at me, his gaze flitting to my lips and back to my eyes. “I’d like to say we could sleep in the same bed and behave but?—”
“But probably not,” I finish.
He smirks against my lips and nods. “I guess…good night?”
“Good night.”
He licks his lips. “Good night.”
I laugh. “You already said that. ”
“I know.”
I shove my hands into his stomach. “Good night!”
“Okay, okay,” he says, lifting his hands in surrender. “Good night.”
I kiss him one last time. “Good night.”
Monday morning rolls around, and I’m on a high. I spent the weekend fully pushing away the stress of this internship out of my mind, something I hadn’t been able to do since I started, and I actually feel optimistic. I’ve put on a fresh new pair of rose-colored glasses—heart shaped ones, I might add—and things are looking up.
I start the day handling more responsibilities than I have before. Moving around v-flats and reflectors to direct lighting and deciding which models to assign specific design looks to. Managing set designs without approval from Ryan or Ivy or even Kyle. It’s a lot of responsibilities, and while it feels overwhelming and scary, it feels like an exciting kind of scary.
I’m tasked with props today in addition to set designs, so I’ve spent the better part of my morning hunting down weathered wooden chairs and plush loveseats for our boho-chic meets haute couture photoshoot to take place next week.
“Lucy, can you settle a dispute?” I look up to Ajay, another member of our intern team who’s a practical child at twenty-two years old and fresh out of college. He’s a little annoyed and flustered as he approaches my table, and I look at him, a little leery. “Min Jun doesn’t believe that my last girlfriend was a lingerie model.”
I roll my eyes, and Min Jun, another intern who I swear is Ajay’s counterpart in maturity level, throws his hands in the air next to Ajay. “See! Even Lucy doesn’t believe you. ”
“Why? Is it so hard to believe that I could get a girl?—”
“Yes,” Min Jun interrupts, his deadpan look showing no amount of evidence would convince him otherwise.
I sigh, looking up from my laptop screen. “Do you have proof?”
Ajay looks at me, a little insulted, and Min Jun stands behind him with a smug grin. “Proof?”
“Yeah. Like a picture you two took together? Or a text message convo in your messages? Or maybe even an old Instagram post?”
Ajay hesitates. “We—I mean, she’s kind of a private person. And we hardly texted when we dated because we were both really busy.”
Min Jun and I share knowing glances, and Ajay huffs an exasperated sigh. “Whatever. I don’t care if you guys believe me or not. I know we dated.”
I smirk, watching them walk away before I return my attention to my work.
“Kyle is on a rampage,” Elaine whispers sharply, rounding the large conference style table I’m working at.
I stop mid-click on an eBay link. “Why? What happened?”
“Apparently, the brand sent over the wrong set of clothes,” she explains, tucking herself into the seat across from me. “And the set we’re preparing for next week isn’t the right design for the clothes that were sent over.”
I bury my face into my hands and resist the urge to groan. “So I’m looking for all of these props for nothing?”
Her face shifts into an apologetic look, her teeth clenched through a sympathetic frown. “Sorry.”
“I already placed an order for a step ladder and an emerald high back chair,” I whine.
“Well, it’ll be used for the shoot when they send over the right clothes.”
I grit my teeth, pushing down my frustrations through a silent it is what it is , self-soothing pep talk. “I guess,” I grumble .
“Who approved these orders?”
Elaine and I both lift our heads to Kyle Viotto standing at the head of the table, his fists pounded into the hard surface and a deep scowl of anger on his face. He has a tablet screen angled in our direction with the emerald high back chair I was just talking about.
“I did,” I answer sheepishly. “I placed it this morning before I knew about the change in the shoot. I can order something else to fit the?—”
“This doesn’t work with the original design, regardless if the wrong looks were sent,” he says harshly. He doesn’t yell at me. Instead, his stern voice is unwavering, almost void of emotion, and that makes it all the more intense. “This is why we had that two-hour-long meeting about the brand’s vision. Were you even paying attention?”
“Y-yes, I was,” I stutter. “I’m sorry, Ky?—”
“If you don’t think you can work with the styles we have lined up for the shoot, then you need to reconsider whether or not you’re the right person to be ordering props,” he says, cutting me off. “There’s a very specific vision that’s a part of this entire campaign, and I need all of the staff, including the interns, to understand that. If you don’t think you can, then you shouldn’t be here.”
I shouldn’t be here.
“I’m sorry,” I say again, tucking my head down.
Kyle turns to Ryan, who’s been standing by Kyle’s side the entire time. “I need to hold a staff meeting in an hour.”
His voice trails off as he and Ryan walk away, leaving me and Elaine completely dumbfounded.
“Are you okay?” Elaine says softly, ducking her head.
I shake my head. “Yeah,” I whisper, my body language the furthest thing from okay.
She looks at me in my current state, breathing shallowed breaths with a dazed look of complete disbelief. “Lucy,” she calls in a reassuring voice. “It’ll be fine. We can start looking for new props. I can help?—”
“I need some air,” I interrupt.
I think I hear Elaine call after me, but I’m not sure. I can’t really hear anything over the loud thundering in my ear, chanting, You don’t belong here. You don’t belong here.
I barely make it out to the stairwell before the tears start flowing.
Every doubt, every validating proof that my place is back at home, steaming hot milk and grinding coffee beans, comes rushing back to me. What the hell am I doing? This is exactly what my mom was talking about. She knew it wouldn’t amount to anything. Just three months of me questioning my worth while working my ass off. She was right. I should’ve never left.
“Lucy?”
I hear my name echo off the stairwell walls just as the heavy metal door opens to the fourth floor. I quickly wipe my cheeks, sniffling back my runny nose before turning around. Elaine stops at the top steps and takes the empty spot next to me.
“Ryan wants to brief us before the meeting,” she says carefully.
I nod. “I’ll be right there.” I turn away and dab at my eyes using my shirt sleeve.
“Lucy,” she says, trying to get my attention. I look at her through blurry tears. “It’s a small bump in the road. I’ve had about four since our first day, and I think number five is about to happen at today’s meeting.”
I chuckle a little, a low, watery laugh that slips through the crack in my voice. “The makeup blunder on the model wasn’t your fault.”
“And neither was this prop issue.”
My chin starts to tremble, and I clamp my teeth on my lower lip to stop it .
“We’re still learning. And all of us have come a long way.” She pauses to rub my back, her soothing hand moving between my shoulder blades. This causes a fresh wave of tears and a tight constriction to form in my throat. “Come on. Let’s hope Kyle doesn’t keep giving us that disappointed parent look for the rest of the day.”
“You mean the one that makes me feel like I should be grounded for a month and have my phone privileges taken away?”
“That’s the one.”