Addison
By mid-morning Tuesday, I was already on my third cup of coffee and my second headache.
The day had started with back-to-back calls, a scheduling mess involving a seller who couldn’t be bothered to be in the country, and a parking ticket that had materialized in the fifteen minutes I’d spent grabbing a key from a lockbox.
My inbox was a wall of unread emails, and my to-do list felt less like priorities and more like suggestions. Aspirational at best. I sat at my desk with my shoulders tight and my jaw clenched while I scanned a contract for typos, I didn’t have the time or patience to fix.
My phone buzzed beside my keyboard at first I ignored it, assuming it was a client or Cassidy or someone else who needed something from me. Something tugged anyway, small and instinctive, and I finally glanced down.
Sawyer.
Sawyer: Hey baby. I know you’ve got a wild week, but… my best friend’s birthday is Friday. It’s nothing fancy. Just drinks, Topgolf, and a ride. Would love for you to come if you’re up for it.
My stomach did that familiar flutter-dip whenever Sawyer texted, comfort tangled with nerves and want.
This wasn’t just checking in. It was an invitation.
Not to something private or hidden, but to something open and real. Drinks. A ride. Her best friend’s birthday.
Sawyer was inviting me into her life.
She wasn’t asking me to hide or protecting me from being seen. She was simply holding the door open, like she already expected me to walk through it.
Like there was a place for me beside her.
The scary part wasn’t whether her friends would accept me.
It was how badly I wanted them to.
What if I showed up smiling politely, and found myself surrounded by people who knew how to take up space without apology? People who belonged in Sawyer’s world in ways I didn’t yet know how to?
I wasn’t afraid they would judge me for loving a woman. I was afraid they would see how careful I still was.
Too polished. Too practiced. Too shaped by a world that rewarded conformity.
I wanted to stand beside Sawyer without monitoring my posture, my laugh, or the way I held her hand.
I wanted to belong there.
I just didn’t know if I knew how yet.
I stared at the message for another moment before setting my phone face down on my desk.
“Don’t make me regret this,” I muttered.
Cassidy walked in a moment later holding two iced lattes like she’d personally rescued them from a burning building. Her white platform sneakers squeaked softly against the floor as she crossed the room.
“You looked like you needed this,” she said while setting one in front of me.
“You’re a goddess,” I murmured as I grabbed the cup like it was the first good thing that had happened all day.
“I added a shot,” Cassidy told me.
I stared at her. “This is going to be my fourth coffee.”
“Then maybe you’ll finally achieve omniscience.” She laughed. “Also, your noon showing rescheduled to three. You get a tiny breather. Emphasis on tiny.”
I groaned and tipped my head back in my chair. “I’ll take it.”
She grinned and disappeared down the hall while answering a call.
I leaned back and took a long sip of the latte while staring up at the ceiling, but my thoughts stayed stubbornly fixed on the text. On Friday. In Sawyer’s world. On how different it felt from my own.
Because the truth—the part I rarely said out loud—was that I was hiding Sawyer from my people.
Not consciously. Not cruelly.
Just quietly. Out of habit. Out of years spent curating a life that fit expectations I hadn’t questioned until recently. With Sawyer’s people, it wasn’t about hiding.
It was about stepping into something I hadn’t learned how to navigate yet.
* * *
By five o’clock the message was still unanswered. It wasn’t avoidance exactly. It felt more like gravity, the weight of it lingering quietly in the back of my mind all day.
I touched up my makeup before leaving the office, swapped my work blazer for a slouchy sweater and jeans, stopped for a bottle of wine, and headed to Tiff’s apartment.
I knew she’d see straight through me. I kind of hoped she would.
Tiff’s had something herby bubbling in the oven while Taylor Swift drifted low from the speakers.
Rowan was already there, perched on the arm of the couch with one socked foot tucked beneath them and a glass of red in hand.
I dropped my coat and spread my arms dramatically.
“I need a second life,” I announced while stepping into the living room. “One without bridal spreadsheets and rich clients who think Selling Sunset qualifies them to rewrite contracts.”
“You say this every Tuesday,” Tiff said while handing me a glass.
“Because every Tuesday reminds me my life is a slow-motion satire,” I replied.
Rowan raised one eyebrow over the rim of their wineglass.
“You said that last week after the sage-bringing woman,” they reminded me.
I collapsed into the armchair and threw my head back.
“She brought sage to a showing,” I said flatly.
Tiff laughed as she leaned against the counter. “So. What is it tonight? Lilly spiraling again?”
“Oh, absolutely,” I muttered while taking a sip of wine. “Charleston Chaos is a thirteen-person text thread. Four Brittney’s. Three Ashleys.”
Rowan winced. “That’s bleak.”
“It’s pastel-coded anarchy,” I said.
They both laughed, and Tiff topped off my glass. “At least Mystic was good,” she said casually.
I felt warmth creep up my cheeks as I nodded. “It was… more than good.”
“She’s your girlfriend now, right?” Tiff said gently.
I nodded again. “As of Friday evening. Officially.”
Saying it out loud sent a warm rush through my chest.
Tiff smiled immediately. “You look happy.”
“I am,” I admitted. “But I haven’t told anyone else. Besides you two. And Benji.”
Rowan tilted their head slightly. “Why not?”
I exhaled slowly and watched the wine move in my glass.
“Because I don’t know how,” I admitted. “I spent most of my adult life convincing myself I was straight enough. Jason made sense on paper. My mom loved Jason.”
“Your mom loves control,” Tiff said dryly.
“And you didn’t even like Jason.” Rowan said.
“Exactly,” I said. “And now? I don’t know how to explain Sawyer. Or us. Or who I am when I’m not performing the life I thought I was supposed to have.”
Rowan shrugged gently. “Then don’t explain it,” they said. “Just don’t hide it.”
I looked at them.
Rowan lifted one shoulder. “Sounds like Sawyer already decided you belong there.”
Tiff met my eyes across the room. “Don’t keep her in the shadows too long,” she said quietly. “People don’t stay there without wondering why.”
“I know,” I whispered.
I took another sip of wine before adding, “She invited me to her best friend’s birthday. Friday.”
Rowan smiled. “Sawyer’s world.”
“Yeah.”
Tiff tilted her head. “You going?”
“I want to,” I said softly.
“That’s big.” Tiff said.
“I know. So do I go?”
“Absolutely they both said at the same time.”
* * *
The drive home was quiet.
No music. Just streetlights passing over the windshield and the steady realization that saying girlfriend out loud hadn’t felt wrong. It had felt like relief.
My condo was dark when I walked in, too quiet and too clean. I set my bag down and pulled my phone out while leaning against the kitchen counter.
Sawyer’s message was still there.
Waiting.
Me: Just got home.
A moment later the typing dots appeared.
Sawyer: Hey. How was Tiff’s?
I smiled before answering.
Me: Loud. Warm. Exactly what I needed.
Sawyer: Good. You deserve that.
The pause came next, the space where the real thing lived.
Me: I’ve been thinking about your text. About Friday.
Sawyer: Yeah?
My fingers hovered over the screen for a second before I answered.
Me: I want to come.
Sawyer: You sure?
Me: I’m nervous. Not in a bad way. It’s just new.
Sawyer: You don’t have to be anything other than you are.
Something settled in my chest when I read that.
Me: Then yes. Friday.
Sawyer: Then it’s a date.
Me: It is.
* * *