5
I go to my room and pick an outfit, something more casual than what I wear to work, but still cute (I hope), and get dressed, then head to the bathroom to do my hair and makeup.
Jessie is sitting at the kitchen table, drinking her coffee and scrolling on her phone. She glances up and smiles as I pass by.
I grab the curling iron out of the cabinet and plug it in, then pull my hair back to start applying my makeup. I set my phone down on the counter, turning music on softly to try and distract myself from my growing nerves. I put more effort than usual into my makeup, since I usually keep things fairly simple. When it's finished, I move on to my hair, pinning it up in sections and taking one down at a time, which I’ve found is the most effective way to get my frustrating hair to cooperate.
I’m getting tired of my playlist, so I unlock my phone and switch to another, then set it back down. Jessie pokes her head around the corner, observing my outfit, makeup, and what I’m doing with my hair, and her eyes light up with curiosity.
“Oh my gosh, Lucy, are you going on a date?”
I frown and shake my head, avoiding her gaze as I continue curling my hair and begin to pray that I don’t start blushing. “No, I told you, I’m just meeting up with a friend.”
At this exact moment, my currently unlocked phone lying unattended on the counter buzzes with a text from Scott. Jessie’s eyes flit to my phone, which she snatches up immediately.
“Wha—” I drop the curling iron and rush after Jessie, who is waltzing around the living room, reading my texts to Scott. “Jessie, what the heck! Give me my phone back!”
“I knew it! You’re so going on a date! You never go on dates!”
“Seriously, give me my phone back!”
“Who is he? How long have you been going out? Where did you meet?”
“Jessie, you can’t just take—”
“What on earth is going on?”
We both whip around at the additional voice to see Stephanie standing at the end of the hallway, clearly annoyed. She’s dressed and put together like always, wearing all black with a studded belt, a choker, the craziest black combat boots I’ve ever seen, cargo pants, black lipstick… you get the picture. I think she’s the coolest person I’ve ever met, but I also know what looks I can pull off, and that is not one of them.
“Lucy has a date!” Jessie exclaims excitedly. Stephanie looks from Jessie, to me, then back to Jessie before she sighs and walks to the kitchen in annoyance. This is exactly why I didn’t want to tell Jessie I have a date; I knew she’d flip.
Jessie grins and holds out my phone towards me, which I swipe out of her grasp, frowning. I check to see what Scott said, not realizing both Jessie and Stephanie are watching me.
“Don’t forget: The Roast at 1. If you don’t show, I really will go home crying this time.”
A soft smile spreads on my face as I recall the ridiculous fake crying face Scott made at the wedding yesterday.
“You really do have a date.”
I glance up to see Stephanie leaning against the wall, studying me as she sips her coffee. “It’s about time. It’s been, what, five years since that last guy? And you only saw him like, twice.”
My face heats as I shoot her an annoyed look. “It was three times. Work just keeps me really busy. Besides, look who’s talking.”
Stephanie looks unimpressed. “What do you mean? I’ve had a boyfriend for six years now.”
Both Jessie and I gape at Stephanie in shock.
“What?” Jessie says, once again excited. “I didn’t know you have a boyfriend!”
“You don’t have a boyfriend,” I say. “I’ve lived here five years; I would know if you had a boyfriend.”
“Believe whatever you want, children,” Stephanie says, standing up off the wall and shrugging. “I’ve had a boyfriend since I was twenty-two-years old. I just like to keep my life private.”
“What’s his name?” Jessie asks.
Stephanie walks off down the hall, back to her bedroom. “I’ll tell you in another six years.”
Jessie turns back to me. “At least tell me your boyfriend’s name.”
“Jessie, Scott is not my boyfriend, he’s just a friend.” I storm off back to the bathroom, but Jessie follows hot on my heels.
“Just a friend, huh?”
“Yes. We’re getting coffee to catch up. We haven’t seen each other in forever.”
“Hmm.” Jessie stands in the doorway, enjoying the drama of the day. “I always thought you’d end up with that Jeremiah guy. You two sure talk a lot, and he likes to come by here randomly.”
I laugh at the thought and shake my head, continuing to curl my hair. “No way! Jeremiah is more like an annoying brother than anything else. He’s just a friend.”
“Then Scott must be a different sort of friend, if you’re getting all dressed up to see him.”
I give Jessie the side eye, and she giggles, then steps into the bathroom to look at me in the mirror. Her tone goes softer as she speaks.
“You look really pretty, Lucy. Seriously. You’re gonna blow him away.”
The frustrated tension that had built in my shoulders relaxes at her genuine compliment, and I exhale shakily.
“Thank you.”
She smiles her bright as sunshine smile again, then leaves me to finish getting ready.
I step into The Roast at five minutes past one. For all my nerves, I still couldn’t manage to get here on time. Sometimes I think I’m cursed with perpetual lateness.
I take a deep breath as I glance around. I spot Scott at a table by a large window. Our eyes meet, and he stands, his smile wide as he approaches. I step forward to meet him, albeit a bit hesitantly.
“Hey! You made it!”
“I made it,” I smile, feeling the blush coloring my cheeks.
“I’ll go get our drinks.” Scott gestures to the baristas working behind the counter. “Is your favorite still the matcha frappe with peppermint and chocolate chips?”
I raise my eyebrows. “You remember?”
“Of course I remember! You made it every shift we worked together.”
“I forgot about that…” I wince, thinking about how much sugar is in just one of those. “I haven’t had one since my last shift here, actually.”
“Oh, is there something else you want?”
“No, that sounds good.”
“Okay! I’ll be back.”
“Hold on,” I say, digging through my purse. “Let me give you some cash.”
Scott shakes his head. “No way, I’ve got it.”
“You don’t have to—”
“I’ve got it, Lucy.”
He smiles warmly at me, and I give in. “Alright.”
While Scott orders, I take a seat at the table he’d been occupying. I glance around the café, taking in the subtle differences and changes since the last time I’d been here. Ever since I started working across town for Monica, I stopped coming in to The Roast and instead stop in at the café closest to the office. On weekends, I usually just make coffee at home.
The familiar setting, the chatter from customers, the music crackling through the speakers, and the heavenly aroma of coffee all help put me at ease. It’s nice to get out for a change.
Scott strides back to the table and sits across from me, then slides my drink over.
“Thank you,” I say.
He smiles. “No problem.”
“So, how was North Carolina?”
“Great!” He leans back in his chair. The sunlight filtering through the window highlights his strong features and lights up his eyes as he speaks. “It was a really good experience. I learned a lot, and Daniel—the family friend I mentioned—is a really generous guy. He sold me some of his used gear for a decent price so I could have a good start for freelancing once I got back home.”
I nod. “How’s that going? Freelancing, I mean?”
Scott half smiles. “It’s good. I do a lot of remote editing for Daniel, actually. I’m hoping to move more into filming work in our area, but I’m making a solid living as is, and I’ve been getting at least a few shoots a month with my own clients on top of the editing for Daniel.”
“That’s great!” I smile, my nerves making it difficult for me to think of responses longer than just a few words. I can be so confident at work. Why am I so awkward here?
“I knew you could do it,” I say. “You always seemed like someone who could do anything.”
Scott’s content expression softens even more. “So, I mentioned this at the wedding, but Macy told me you’re a personal assistant?”
“Mhm.” I take a sip of my drink and nod. “Oh, by the way, how do you know Macy and Jacob?”
“Macy is my sister.”
I nearly spit out my drink.
“What? How? How is Macy your sister?”
Scott’s eyebrows rise in surprise, then he clears his throat. “Well, when a man and a woman love each other very much—”
“Shut up!” I can’t help laughing as I reach across the table and swat his arm. “You know what I mean. I’ve worked with Macy for four years! How did I not know you’re related?”
Scott smothers a laugh of his own as he answers. “I don’t know. She must not talk about me much.”
I think back to the many conversations I’ve had with Macy. “You know, she had just started dating Jacob when I started working at the office. He was her topic of choice for most of our conversations for a long time. Then, it was wedding planning. And we were both usually pretty busy, so it’s not like we had all that much time to talk about our family trees or anything.”
I stare at my drink, my eyebrows furrowed in frustration. Apparently, I need to start paying better attention to the people around me. That’s the third thing I’ve learned today about people I thought I knew well.
“So,” Scott leans forward on the table, drawing my attention back to him, “how did your gap year go? Yesterday it didn’t sound like you were too happy about it.”
Right. My infamous gap year. I pick up my cup and absentmindedly attempt to swirl it around, which doesn’t exactly do anything when the drink is frozen.
“Yeah… well, I may not have found my dream, but taking that gap year and working here is how I got the opportunity to work for Monica, so it wasn’t all a waste. I think it worked out for the best, actually.” I do my best to smile convincingly, but I can tell Scott doesn’t buy it. He studies me for a minute before he speaks.
“I haven’t actually known any personal assistants before.”
I smirk. “That’s because none of us get out much. Unless it’s for work.”
“What’s it like? I mean, what do you do?”
I tilt my head in thought, trying to come up with a succinct way to explain. “Have you seen The Devil Wears Prada?”
Scott nods. “Macy loves that movie.”
“It’s a lot like that.”
His brow furrows. “Really?”
I shrug. “Sort of. I mean, Monica is a whole lot nicer than Miranda Priestly, but the rest is pretty similar when it comes to what I actually do. I do normal office work, like answering emails and phone calls, managing her schedule and calendar, booking her flights; you know, that sort of thing. But, I do other things too, like picking up her coffee or lunch, returning Amazon orders, taking her kids to sports games, picking up prescriptions… errands, basically. That’s where the ‘personal’ part of personal assistant comes in.”
“Huh.” Scott leans back in his chair, thinking over what I’d said. “So that’s why you were able to rescue the wedding.”
“I’m used to putting out fires. But usually I’m the one who creates them. It was nice to fix a problem that wasn’t my fault, for once,” I smile.
He grins, then takes a sip of his drink. “So, do you like your job?”
That’s the question.
I stare at my drink as I answer. “I’m lucky to have my job. I don’t have a degree or any prior training. A job like this, working for someone like Monica, with the pay that I get? It’s unheard of for someone like me.”
Scott cocks his head. “That’s not really what I asked.”
“It’s a really good job. So many people would give anything to be Monica’s PA.”
“Yeah, but I’m not asking about what other people want. How do you feel about your job?”
I glance at him. His eyes are locked on mine, and I can tell he’s not going to let up.
“It’s a good job. I’m grateful to have it.”
Scott stares at me for a few more moments, unsatisfied with my answer, then lets it drop. “You shouldn’t sell yourself short, Lucy.”
“What do you mean?”
“You’re talking like you have no other options. You’re smart, and clearly very capable. You’re working as Monica Harper’s personal assistant for goodness’ sake. You have to be pretty amazing to do that. Any company would be lucky, and grateful, to have you.”
I stare back at him, his words making something in my chest squeeze. Everyone, everyone I know always tells me how lucky I am to work for Monica, how lucky I am to have this job. No one has ever suggested I could, much less should, do anything else. No one has ever told me it’s okay to want to do something different. They always tell me I’d be crazy to even consider leaving my job, no matter what my feelings are.
But, this is Scott. He can do anything. Of course he would say something like that. He went out and did exactly what he said he would. He had a plan and executed it.
The problem is, I’m not Scott. I have no dreams, no idea what I would do, no five year plan or ten year plan. As Phoebe from Friends would say, I don’t even have a “pla—.” My job is stable, and pays well. That’s enough.
“That’s nice of you to say, but really, I’m fine,” I smile.
I take a breath and glance out the window, trying to hide my inner emotions from Scott, who seems to be very perceptive. After a few seconds of silence, his chair screeches backward. I look over in surprise to see him standing up.
“Want to go for a walk?” He asks. “It’s sunny outside today. Fall’s almost here; the weather won’t be nice like this for much longer.”
I blink up at him, then nod. I love walking. For some reason, walking makes it so much easier for me to carry a conversation, and right now I’d much prefer that over my stilted, awkward attempts thus far.
“A walk sounds great!”
Scott leads the way out of the café, holding the door open for me as we step into the chilled air. It’s early autumn here in California. The sun still shines bright, and some days it still gets intolerably hot, but today, it’s perfect.
Fallen leaves crunch and squish beneath our shoes as we walk through a nearby park. The concrete path is spotted with an irregular pattern of wet spots from sprinklers and dew, and a light breeze tickles my face, pushing that one stubborn section of hair over my eyes relentlessly. I close my eyes and take a deep breath, feeling more at ease now that we’re moving.
Scott’s sleeves brush against his coat as he walks, his steps long and sure. He’s taller than me by about half a foot, so I have to glance up at him as we go. He catches my gaze and smiles down at me, his side bumping briefly into mine and his sleeve occasionally brushing my own. Neither of us seems to mind.
“I’m really glad I ran into you at the wedding,” Scott says, breaking the comfortable silence.
“Me too,” I say, and I mean it. “I tried to find you on social media after you left, but you’re like a ghost online.”
He half smiles. “Sorry. I guess I thought you had my number.”
“Mm-mm. No way.”
He turns to me with a quizzical look. “Why so emphatic?”
I straighten stubbornly as I walk. “That would have been a terrible thing for me.”
“Ouch. Am I that bad to talk to?”
“That’s not it,” I shake my head.
“Then why?”
“You had a girlfriend, and I had a cru—”
I stop myself mid sentence, realizing just how awkward the next word will make the rest of this date for me.
“A what?”
“Nothing,” I say, trying to recover the composure I know I have now lost for all eternity. My face is already heating, my cheeks turning red. “Never mind.”
Scott grins, then looks straight ahead, probably to lessen my embarrassment.
“I had a crush on you, too.”
I whip to face him, my eyes wide. “What?”
“I had a crush on you, too,” he repeats, this time a little less confidently, his face tinging pink. “I mean, I might not have realized it at the time, but I made you agree to a date a year and a half in advance just so I’d have an excuse to see you again. I thought you knew I liked you, and that you didn’t feel the same way about me but didn’t want to make me feel bad, so that’s why you didn’t show up.”
I gape at him a little longer, then snap my mouth shut, shaking my head. “No, that wasn’t it at all! I thought for sure you wouldn’t be there, and I was still new at my job, and… I just had no idea.” I hesitate to ask my next question. “Um… What about Cassie?”
“I broke up with her just before I left for North Carolina. Our relationship… it was sort of rough, and it was becoming clear it wasn’t going anywhere. Since I was leaving, I figured I needed to be honest with her.”
“Oh.”
A few moments pass, and I clear my throat. “Well, I guess we’ve both established we used to have crushes on each other.”
Scott nods with an equal measure of awkwardness. “Yup.”
The silence drags on. We’ve nearly made it to the end of the park, and neither of us has said anything.
I was wrong about walking making conversations easier. Walking is worse. Walking is much, much worse.
“Have you ever held an alligator?”
I blink up at Scott, completely thrown off by the abrupt change of topic.
“Um… what?”
He gazes at me, completely serious. “Have you ever held an alligator? Or what about a sloth? Those are worse, actually.”
A confused grin breaks out on my face as I hold back a laugh. “Excuse me?”
“People think an alligator is scarier because, you know, if it bites you, that would be really bad. But actually, it’s the sloths that get you.”
“Really?” I continue to fight the laughter attempting to bubble out of me. “How so?”
“Alligators are no problem. The one that I held had its jaws restrained and had tiny limbs. I think it was called a caiman. But sloths? Those things are basically the pull-up champions of the world, three times stronger than the average human. When you hold a sloth, if you don’t do it just right, those things will grab you in the strongest hug you’ve ever experienced, like you’re a tree. And good luck getting them off. You may as well accept the fact that you’re a tree at that point, and die by sloth hug.”
“Death by sloth hug,” I repeat, my laughter finally escaping at the mental image. “Thank you for the warning.”
“Of course. Just want to keep you safe,” he grins.
After Scott’s successful attempt at alleviating our nerves with the most random topic possible, we continue walking and talking for hours. I’m able to relax again, and all too soon, our coffee cups are empty, and the sun is starting to sink.
We fall into another comfortable silence as we walk back toward the café, where our cars are parked. I glance around and notice a small art supply store down the line of buildings that I hadn’t seen before. My gaze lingers on it as we pass, and Scott notices.
“Want to go in?” He asks.
“Oh, no, that’s fine,” I say. I don’t want him to be bored following me around while I shop.
“Come on, let’s go in. Just to check it out.” His smile is warm and bright, continually putting me at ease.
“If you’re sure you don’t mind,” I say.