7. Willow
WILLOW
NOVEMBER PRESENT DAY
“Do you think if you stare at it any longer, the text will send on its own?”
I jump at the sound of Jenna’s voice behind me.
“When the fuck did you get home?” I ask, shoving the phone face down on the couch next to me.
“About ten minutes ago.”
“And you’ve been watching me this whole time?”
“Mhm.”
I stare at her in disbelief as she walks around the couch and sits in the chair across from me. She places two empty glasses and a bottle of white wine on the coffee table.
“So…Who’s Noah?” she asks as she pours a glass for each of us.
“Noah Anderson,” I say quietly as I take a sip. The cool, sweet wine tastes like heaven.
Jenna chokes on her wine as she processes the words I just said.
“Excuse me? That text said, ‘Sorry I couldn’t join you for lunch. Maybe next time…’ Or some variation of it. Jesus, how many times have you deleted and retyped that text?”
“What time is it?”
“Four,” she says, confused.
“At least fifty times. Fuck. I’m an idiot.”
“Uhh, yeah. I don’t think you should go to lunch with your future boss after the first interview…Unless you think it’ll get you the job,” she teases as she winks and takes another sip of her wine.
“It’s the son.”
“The son?”
“Yeah. Noah is the son. Nathaniel is the father.”
“Who did you interview with today?”
“Nathaniel.”
“Damn…Not both? They could’ve gone all good cop, bad cop on you.” Her smirk says it all.
“Jesus.”
She laughs as I smack her in the arm.
“I wouldn’t do anything like that. I interviewed with Nathaniel. He asked me back for a second interview next week.”
“Hell yeah, that means you got the job.”
She clinks her glass to mine before downing the rest of it.
“Not necessarily.”
I swirl the glass, letting the wine rise along the sides until it almost spills over the top.
“What do you mean? He asked you back, so obviously he’s interested. Now tell me more about Noah.”
She gets up and walks into the kitchen. A few seconds later, she’s cursing as the cork is fighting back in the second bottle of wine.
“Here, give it to me.”
I take the bottle and easily pull out the cork.
“Sometimes I forget how strong you are. Anyway, don’t avoid it any longer. Give me all the details.”
“Well, we can start with the fact that I made an ass of myself in front of him before I even knew who he was.”
I spend the next half hour telling her about Noah. The elevator ride up to their floor and him instantly knowing I was there for an interview. The way he teased me about my nervous energy. By the end of the story, the second bottle of wine is gone, and she is reaching for my phone.
“What are you doing?” I demand, pulling my phone away.
“Texting him. Give me the phone.”
“No. It’s not professional.”
“Technically, you don’t work there yet, so you’re not breaking any company rules. Come on, Willow. You’ve hardly left this house in almost a year other than for work.”
“Excuse me, I go to every single one of your shows,” I cut in.
“Yeah. Then you leave the second they’re done and disappear back here to avoid the afterparties.”
“I mean, you’re not wrong, but at least I’m there for the show. Plus, you know that I wouldn’t be much fun at a party.”
Actually, she doesn’t know much. When I moved back to Michigan almost four years ago, I didn’t know anyone.
I didn’t go back to my hometown. Instead, I stayed near the city where I was going to go to college.
I found an ad on Craigslist about a roommate wanted, and that’s when I met Jenna.
They always say opposites attract, and we clicked instantly.
She always jokes that I’m the light and she’s the dark.
The black cat always needs her golden retriever.
My hair is a light strawberry blonde and Jenna’s hair color is a natural obsidian black that hangs halfway down to her waist. My eyes are forest green and hers are a bright blue, almost like the cloudless sky reflecting on a shimmering lake.
My clothes are almost all business professional.
The few random non-business attire items include a few pairs of jeans, bright colored tops, skirts, and dresses.
Jenna looks like she owns the entire clothing line from the early 2000’s Hot Topic.
Black, spikes, leather, and fishnets. The woman is a walking Myspace fever dream.
She’s a fashion major who proves every day it was never just a phase.
“I know you hate the thought of going to the afterparties, but if you would just try to hang out one night…”
“Jenna,” I huff, and she drops it.
“Fine. But can you please text him and see if he wants to grab lunch sometime this weekend? You can ask him about the job and learn a bit more about what you might be doing when you’re hired.”
“If I’m hired.”
“Tomato, potato,” she says laughing with a shrug. “So, what are you going to wear?”
“To where?”
She stares at me like I’m stupid before shaking her head.
“On your date with Mr. Daydream. I’m sure he’d love to see you in something other than the same old suits he sees every lawyer in.”
“It’s not a date. Plus, I don’t think I’m even going to text him.”
I lean my head back against the backrest of the couch. I let the bun loose in my hair, and it drapes down the back of the couch as I close my eyes.
“Oops, sent,” Jenna suddenly says as she drops my phone back onto the couch and takes off running toward the steps.
“What the fuck did you do?!” My voice hits a decibel that would have dogs screaming.
“You’ll thank me later. Now come on.”
I take a deep breath and pick up my phone, unlocking it to reveal the text that Jenna sent to Noah.
Sorry I couldn’t do lunch today. Are you free for dinner tonight?
sent
Fuck. My. Life.