“Work on that,” she added. “Next.”
By the time class ended, my brain was buzzing in the best way—overstimulated, energized, hungry for more.
I checked my phone as I boarded the metro.
A number I didn’t know had texted.
Hi—this is probably abrupt, but I was hoping it was okay to say hello.
Before I could wonder who it was, another message followed.
A selfie.
Oh. The model. That beautiful disruption.
I stared at the screen, pulse kicking up, then typed back before I could overthink it.
Hi. Absolutely okay.
Three dots appeared almost instantly.
Good. I’m glad. I was worried I might be overstepping.
She wasn’t.
We exchanged a few easy messages as the train rattled along—about the weather, the city, the strange intimacy of working around the same people without ever being formally introduced.
Then she asked:
Would you like to get a drink sometime?
I didn’t answer right away. I could make it work, I thought. Just one drink. Just a pause between obligations.
My phone buzzed again.
Dominic.
Can I call?
I typed back quickly.
Give me five—getting off the metro.
I looked back at the other message and smiled, something warm and anticipatory curling low in my stomach.
Sure
I wrote.
Where were you thinking?
I stopped at a café near the Daily, ordered coffee I didn’t need but desperately wanted, and took Dominic’s call as soon as I stepped back onto the sidewalk. The rain had given up to a faint mist and even that was slowing.
He sounded good. Familiar. Steady.
“How did class go?” he asked.
I launched into it, words tumbling over each other as I tried to explain the energy, the critique, the way it felt to be challengedwithout being insulted or belittled. He listened, asked questions, laughed in the right places.
