Chapter 4
CHAPTER 4
PIPER
I swing by Ruby’s place as the sun starts to set. She’s got an apartment of her own now, with a small balcony with half a view of the skyline and half a view of another apartment building. She jokingly refers to it as ‘my place half in the sun.’
We sit on the balcony together, sharing a bottle of wine. I sip the red slowly, letting it warm me up a little. I’ve never been a huge drinker. Turning twenty-one, almost twenty-two, hasn’t changed that.
“I thought college was supposed to turn people into alcoholics,” Ruby says brashly, winking.
“I guess I dodged that bullet.”
“Hey,” Ruby mutters, touching my arm. “Are you okay?”
“Are you ?” I counter.
Sure, I’m changing the subject, but since I came home a week ago, I’ve noticed Ruby acting strangely. We’ve been friends since we were kids, but lately, I’ve sensed some awkwardness when we’re together. It’s like she finds it difficult to look at me.
“Huh?” she mutters.
“I don’t know. I just hope college hasn’t ruined our friendship.”
“You’ve only had half a glass, Piper. What’s up with you?”
“It’s just… I don’t know. I’ve noticed you’ve been a little distant.”
She turns away, a momentary flash of panic touching her features. “Have I?”
“Yeah, you?—”
My phone buzzes, the screen lighting up on the table. It’s a text from Logan. I’ve had his number for years in case of emergencies, but I’ve never actually exchanged a text with him. I did once put my phone in a drawer to stop myself from texting him, but that’s the closest I got.
Logan: Hi, Piper. I’m texting to let you know that, after reviewing your application and inter…
The text preview ends
“Quick, check it,” Ruby says.
I snatch up my phone, pressing down on the text. The rest of the message appears.
I’m happy to say that you were by far the most impressive candidate. I know you don’t want any special favors because of our connection, so I want to reiterate that you were by far the best choice. Congratulations, and see you Monday.
“I got the job,” I say.
“No, no way,” Ruby replies, standing up.
“No way,” I parrot.
“That will not be your reaction, girl.” I giggle when she grabs my hands and pulls me to my feet. “You’ve struggled too long trying to find your place for you to celebrate with a pitiful and quiet ‘I got the job.’ Scream, chick. Let it out.”
I roll my eyes.
“Hey, I mean it,” she says, staring into my eyes.
I laugh, getting swept up in the moment. “I got the freaking job! Woo!”
Ruby throws her head back and howls, laughing as we drop back into our seats.
“This is so awesome,” I say. “This is my chance, Rubes. I will not fail this time—no dropping out. No doubts. It’s full commitment.”
“Are you going to text him back… text his personal number back?”
I pick up my phone. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Oh, nothing,” she says oh-so innocently.
Piper: Hi, Logan. This is fantastic news. Thank you so much. I’m excited to get to work and give it my all. Here’s to making Forever Love a success!
Putting my phone down, I look at Ruby again. “Come on, then. What was that ‘personal number’ comment about?”
“I’m just wondering if he would’ve used his personal cell to text any of the other candidates.”
“He probably doesn’t have theirs, Ruby. Don’t read anything into it.”
“I’m not,” she mutters.
“We had an entire interview, and there wasn’t anything… you know, like that.”
“That doesn’t sound very convincing.”
I throw my hands up. “Fine, there was a feeling . But that was all. I’m not even sure if it was really there. But let’s say it was. Let’s entertain that idea. What would it even mean? I don’t want to break Elliot’s heart, so it doesn’t matter. We kissed once, three years ago. It’s ancient history.”
Ruby’s expression softens. “You’re right. I’m sorry. This isn’t about that. This is about your kickass, take-no-prisoners future.” She raises her glass. “Congratulations.”
I raise mine. “Thank you.”
It’s almost midnight when Logan sends me another text. I’m almost certain a CEO wouldn’t usually do this with his new employees, but I choose not to think about that. It’s not like his text contains anything inappropriate.
Logan: If you have any thoughts about Forever Love over the weekend, let me know. We’re in the early stages, but I’ve been very hands-on with this product so far.
His hands-on comment makes my body feel suddenly sensitive to the bedsheets. But obviously, he doesn’t mean ‘hands-on’ in that way.
I sit up, keen to get started, even if it’s a Friday night. I’m a teensy bit buzzed, and these are not regular working conditions.
Piper: How schmaltzy do we want the app to be? Are we going for a soulmate, ‘one true love’ deal? Are we going to talk about Cupid and things like that? Or do we want it to be more sincere, more realistic?
Logan: I suppose we’d have to do some market research on how many people believe in soulmates. Why don’t I start now? Do you believe in them? It’ll be good to get an idea from a younger demographic.
I don’t know why, but this annoys me. I don’t want him to think of me as substantially younger and less mature than him.
Piper: I might be younger in years, but I’m an old soul. I don’t know if I’m the best option.
Logan: Either way, give me your opinion.
Piper: Okay, Mr. Bossy.
I almost sent this, but then I realized it’s not even remotely professional. It could even be considered an opening flirting gambit. I deleted the message and texted something else.
Piper: This will not be very helpful, but I honestly don’t know if I believe in soulmates.
Logan: I’m relieved I hired you as a copywriter, not a market researcher.
Piper: LOL. What about you? Do you believe in soulmates?
Logan: If I answered, we’d hardly be getting the younger demographic’s view. Try, Piper.
Piper: For the record, you’re not old. Thirty-eight isn’t old. Even if it was, you’re fitter and more handsome and…
And, I’m doing it again, aren’t I? I’m letting those supposed-to-be-secret thoughts erupt into my texting, which is the last thing I should be doing. I must maintain control to stop myself from going to these romantic places. I delete this and start again.
Piper: I’d like to believe in soulmates. I’d like to imagine that there’s one person out there for me, that we’re perfectly matched. We could build a relationship destined to work because we were ‘made for each other,’ whatever that means. I’m just not sure it’s realistic.
Logan: Still, it’s something to think about. You called yourself an old soul. What about other women your age?
Piper: Ruby, my friend, definitely believes in soulmates. She thinks there’s one perfect person out there. She believes that, no matter what, she and this person will find a way to make their romance work. Maybe more people have that view. And you mentioned this app has something to do with people being tired of hookup culture, so there’s that.
I pull the sheets off me. They feel suddenly oppressive, wrapping too tightly around me, making me too aware of my body, just like his gaze.
Logan: Was that your experience at college?
I chew on my lip as layers of tension pulse through me, tickling, teasing. My legs press together firmly as if I’m fighting the desire to do something bad, something I’ve only let myself do a few times—and even that’s a few too many.
Piper: At college, All I did was read and try to do well in my studies. That was before the self-doubt got too bad. As for the other students, I saw no significant sign that hookup culture was dead. BUT many people seemed lonely, as if they wanted something more. I definitely noticed that.
Logan: But you were well-behaved?
I stare at the message, waiting for it to disappear, to change shape and become something else, something less outrageous. This is definitely crossing the line, right?
Piper: Ask Elliot. He’ll tell you I was boring, and he was grateful for that.
I had to mention my brother and remind him why he can’t veer close to the edge. Toppling over it would mean wrecking my brother’s life.
He doesn’t reply, leaving me to wonder if I imagined the implication. But you were well-behaved.
Sure, I can imagine that he’s relieved about this. I’m glad to learn I didn’t sleep around because he wants me all to himself. I can make up a story that he’s lying in bed, wearing just his underwear, his muscles throbbing, hardening, as he thinks about me, other parts of him getting hard too…
As I slide my hand down my body toward my sex, I hear a crash from the living room. I open the door. Elliot is sitting on the couch, reeking of whiskey, a bundle of tissues held to his nose.
I gasp, rushing into the room. “Elliot, what happened?”
“Too many drinks. I fell into the wall like an idiot. Sorry.”
“Let me get you some water,” I say. “What was the occasion? A date?”
“N-no,” he mutters, seeming awkward. “Just met a friend. No big deal.”
I never said it was a big deal. I get a niggling sensation he’s hiding something, but I don’t feel like I have the right to ask what. I’m even cautious about telling him I got the job because that could lead to a conversation about Logan.
That’s what one steamy moment has done to me: ruined my ability to interact with my brother without being self-conscious the whole time. It’s like I’m constantly watching myself for signs of a slip-up. It’s exhausting.
But that’s what I get for betraying my big brother.
I’ve got to be strong. Never again.