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“I know, right? But I don’t care if your mouth is full of meat. Let’s hear it, boo-boo.”
Nearly choking on my food, I reach for my soda, glaring at her while punching my chest with my other hand.
You know what? Screw it. What do I have to lose?
“Zoe Jackson. I’m twenty-five, born and raised in Boston in a cute little suburb outside of downtown. I interned at Bloom in Boston when I was in college and then got hired as an assistant. It was supposed to be temporary while I looked for jobs in my actual field, but I guess somewhere along the way, I decided to stick around.”
“Decided to stick around, or just gave up on your dreams?”
Via’s style seems to be a mix between blunt and straight up gut punch.
“You don’t hold back, do you?”
“No. It’s a waste of time for both of us.”
She’s right, can’t argue with that one. “I didn’t give up. I think I just got too comfortable where I was.”
“And what is your dream job?”
“I don’t know.”
She leans back in her chair, eyeing me with the same look as before. “You don’t know? What did you study in school?”
“Architecture and design.”
Via’s jaw snaps open. “And you’re working at a PR and event management company? How? Why?”
My shoulders tilt up, and I feel the onslaught of shame rising deep within my chest.
“It was one of the few internships available at the time. They didn’t have any positions in my field.”
“Good lord, that sucks. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. Shit happens, right?”
“Right, but it’s never too late, you know.”
I laugh, reaching for a fry and trying not to let her words mean more than they sound. “Thank you.”
“I mean it. You’re in New York now; you can do whatever you want. Start over, go after your dreams.”
“Trying to get rid of me?”
She rolls her eyes at me. “Don’t be ridiculous.”
Via sips on her drink, looking like she’s on a mission. “Single?”
“Yes.”
“Newly?”
Yep, she’s definitely onto something.
“No.”
Via’s brows raise for a split second before she schools her features. “Oh.”
“What?”
