3
THEA
I aimlessly flip through the movie options. The same titles I’ve seen a hundred times slide across the screen. Resigned to not being satisfied with the current selection, I turn the TV off and grab my laptop.
My calendar comes to the front of the screen and I look over my bookings. Only three green lines, only three clients this week. I sigh and rub my temples, trying to think of a way to bring in more business.
Three thousand dollars a month. That’s how much Cassie wants each of us to put away. There’s a pit in my stomach with each passing day, knowing I’m going to disappoint her. If I fail at this, I’ll have to go back home to my parents. The possibility makes me sick. Failure isn’t an option.
Determined to put those thoughts out of my mind, I work on Cassie’s list. Clicking open the email, I see she’s replicated the notepad items line by line, this time with little hollow bubbles to check off as they’re done.
Half an hour later and I’ve ordered everything needed—organizers, accessories, pens, and copy paper. I feel productive for all of about five minutes before I realize that was probably the easiest part.
My client won’t be showing up for a few hours—it’s too early to go to the studio. Clean, nap, flip through the movies again, eat. None of it sounds appealing, although I decide on lunch, then cleaning.
As tiny as my apartment is, I still seem to leave a trail of clutter everywhere I go. There’s a sweater thrown over the back of a dining room chair. A basket of clean laundry is next to my bed. My camera and satchel are on the kitchen counter.
I’m picking up those few things when my phone rings.
The number is unknown, but the area code is from Willow Hill. “Hello?”
There’s a brief pause. “Hi Thea, it’s Cole.” I stop dead in my tracks.
I gave Cole my number four days ago. He never reached out. It made my mornings grabbing coffee awkward, neither of us mentioning anything. I figured he’d changed his mind.
“I was wondering if you’d be up for a date sometime this week. Or this weekend, if that works better for you,” he’s quick to add.
I’m a little thrown off being on the phone with him. Most people text and I’d written off his offer to take me out. My brain takes a minute to think of what to say.
“I’m free most evenings. Weekends are a little trickier.” There’s nothing on my books this weekend, although that could change at any moment.
“Great.” I hear the subtle breath of relief. I smirk at the reaction.
“Is tonight too soon?” I don’t answer right away. “I’m sorry, I know it’s last minute. We can do it on a different day if you’d like.”
“Not at all,” I say, biting my lip in anticipation. “Can you pick me up from work around five or six? It’s the Willow Hill Photography Studio, just down the street from the bakery.”
Shit, this suddenly changes my whole day. I’m making a list of things to do before I get off the phone. Shower, shave, find something to wear.
“I’ll see you at five, Thea.” His smile is clear on the other end.
I pull the cover from the duvet and throw it into the hamper along with the sheets. This is the part I don’t like—the cleanup after a shoot.
Carrying the load to the washer down the hall, I toss the linens in. I hear Cassie’s voice in her section of the studio and peek in.
Our setups are vastly different. She has thin, sheer fabrics hanging from the ceiling. Pillows of pink, ivory, and gold frame the heavily pregnant woman on the bed of fluffy comforters. She’s smiling and holding her belly in a dress that splits open below her bust. The mauve petals in her flower crown match the gown.
“So pretty! Tilt your head up. Yes, now look over here.” I admire Cassie absorbed in her work for a moment longer before heading back to my side.
While we share the same exposed red brick wall, my windows are draped in heavy, luxurious fabrics. Deep green, black, rich gold, and ivory blend to create a moody vibe throughout the wide open space.
On one wall, the bed I stripped lies against a matte black wall with green drapery framed by lush vines with ivory blooms. The velvet headboard curves dramatically behind a heap of pillows. The soft glow of the chandelier above and candles on the nightstands dimly light the space.
Opposite the bed is a black matte wood panel partition that sits behind a white clawfoot tub on a pedestal. Vibrant green potted trees sit off to the sides and pillar candles of varying heights are scattered across the floor.
I walk to the other side of the room, carrying bundles of lace folded neatly in my hands. Behind the bathtub partition is another scene. I tuck the delicate material into their color coordinated cubbies.
A massive gold-framed mirror leans against a black wall with plants on either side and more candles strategically placed on the floor. A blue velvet couch sits across from the mirror.
Rich wood beams accentuate the ceiling.
Cole is picking me up in two hours. I have just enough time to shower and get ready. Grabbing the bag I packed from home and the hanger with my dress, I head to the bathroom.
Somehow we lucked out finding this place. It came with a decent size bathroom that included a shower. Cassie and I thought it was a strange feature at first. That was until one of her newborns made quite a mess during a shoot and the mom was beyond thankful that she could wash up before leaving.
I’m slipping on my dress after showering and drying my hair when I hear a knock. “Thea?”
“Did your client leave?” I call through the door.
“Yeah. Are you okay? I heard the shower.”
Opening the door, I see her confused face as I hop in place, trying to buckle the strap of my heel. “Please stop before you break an ankle.” Cassie bends down, fastening it for me. Then she does the other. “Where are you off to looking like a daydream?”
She gets a playful dose of side-eye from me. “If you must know…I have a date with Cole tonight.”
“What the hell, Thea! You didn’t think to tell me sooner!” She slaps my arm, but is grinning unbearably wide.
Shrugging, I try to sound nonchalant as I comb my fingers through my dark waves. “He asked me this afternoon.”
“Oh.”
“What?” Turning to look at her, I wait as she purses her lips and crosses her arms.
“It’s probably nothing,” she says, then pauses. “Can he plan a decent date that quickly?”
Her comment elicits an eye roll from me. “Listen, not everyone can be like Anthony. He’s one in a million. It’s been twelve years since I’ve been on a first date. I’ll be happy if he opens my door and pays the bill, which I’m sure he will.” I put my hand on her shoulder. “Cole is probably the safest choice for a first date. A test date, if you will.”
“Hell of a test subject,” Cassie mutters under her breath, shaking her head, her ponytail swishing back and forth.
Anthony is her perfect match. They both lucked out finding each other. How he takes care of her and makes her feel comfortable enough to relax once in a while is astounding. In all the years I’ve known Cassie, she’s always running at two hundred percent.
Anthony has gotten her down to a hundred, which is saying something. He puts her at ease and it makes me hopeful that I might find someone who fits me as well as they fit each other.
They met at his friend’s wedding. She was the photographer. At the end of the night, he walked right up to her and got her number. That was four years ago. I’ve admired their relationship ever since.
“I have to head home. Date night. But I want a full recap. Seriously, no detail left out, tomorrow morning. And text me tonight after he drops you off so I know he didn’t murder you or something.”
I laugh at her blunt humor. “Yes, mom,” I yell after her as she walks away. A final spritz of perfume, another swipe of lipstick, and I’m ready—right on time.
My phone buzzes and I see Cole’s name pop up on the screen.