“He—”
“Ellie, don’t fucking lie to me. Look me in the eye and tell me you’re happy.”
My mouth opened. Then snapped shut as a lump formed in my throat. She was right. It would be lying to pretend I was entirely happy. The truth was, I was anxious all the time. Always worried about disappointing Griffin, or saying the wrong thing and having to listen to some condescending lecture about how I should have done better. I hated my job. The job I’d worked so hard for, that I used to love, I now hated, and it was his fault. Because he’d promoted me so he could micromanage all of my projects and now everyone else at work despised me more than ever, thought I didn’t deserve to be there. And Iris was right—I’d barely seen or spoken to her for months, because Griffin always needed me to be with him, even if it was just to hang off his arm and listen to people verbally fellate him at some boring party.
The buzz of the crowd grew to a roar as Dempsey took the stage. As luck would have it, they opened with my favorite song. Track five from their debut album—a song aboutwhat it’s like to lose yourself in someone else, and to feel untethered without them. About how romantic it seems when someone first steals your breath away, until eventually parts of you start to die without oxygen.
I’d always loved the song simply because Sheridan’s lyrics are brilliant, but listening to her sing it live, especially right after that conversation with Iris, I connected to it on a whole new level. I was suffocating in my relationship. And it had happened so slowly, I’d barely even noticed until I was in too deep, and I couldn’t picture my future without Griffin in it. But as Sheridan sang onstage, I forced myself to picture it. And I liked what I saw.
That night I went home—not to Griffin’s place, but to my own apartment I rarely slept in anymore—and applied for a job at Blue Sky. Being with Griffin had impacted my friendships, my relationship with my sister, had made me lose my passion for my work. But Iris had helped me realize I still loved music. I still wanted to work with artists, even if it meant I had to start over somewhere else.
Iris has always, always been there when I need her. To give me a push in the right direction, or to be a shoulder to cry on, or just to listen when it feels like no one else will.
Right now she needs me, and what do I do? Send her to voicemail and ignore her texts. My baby sister is getting married, and I’ve been so wrapped up in my own shit that I’ve barely made time for her and have acted like it’s some huge chore to listen to her plans.
Iris is away at some yoga retreat this weekend that promises to reset your chakra through an abundance of herbal tea and a lack of Wi-Fi. Probably there’s more to it than that, but Iris told me about the itinerary after a very long day ofwedding-related errands, so I may have tuned her out. But I’m pretty sure it’s the sort of place where phones are frowned upon, so I figure she must really be anxious if she’s spending this much time messaging me.
I call her without giving it another thought.
“I’m so sorry,” she says as soon as she answers.
“For what?”
“Uh, because this is your shot at Dempsey, and here I’ve been blowing up your phone with these dumb wedding logistics. I’m the worst.”
“You’re really not. It’s fine. I’m not even seeing the band until later. And anyway,I’msorry for not getting back to you sooner, but yes. Of course I’ll take care of Duchess.”
“Yeah?” The relief in her voice is palpable. “Thank you, that’s a huge help. Every time I think I’m done with wedding stuff, some new problem crops up.”
I shuffle across the pavement and sink against the scratchy brick wall of the shoe store while Iris launches into a whole laundry list of instructions that I don’t actually need to think about until next weekend. But I close my eyes and do my best to actuallylisten, to make mental notes so I don’t fuck anything up on the big day.
Unfortunately, keeping my eyes closed means I miss the moment when Adam walks out of the store.
“Before you say anything about me buying boat shoes—”
My eyes fly open, and I start cutting my hand across my throat in the universal sign forstop talking, and naturally, Adam is too busy staring at his new shoes to notice.
“—it was either this or a pair of platform sneakers. Which were actually kind of cool, but I’m not Harry Styles. So.”
Iris has gone suspiciously quiet in my ear, and I move myfree hand even more frantically to get his attention, accidentally clipping Adam on the nose in the process.
“Jesus, Eleanor,” he hisses, and I wince as I shift to cover the mouthpiece instead. Which is probably what I should have done in the first place, because if Iris realizes I’m with someone right now, that will open up a whole new can of worms. Adam opens his mouth to speak again and instinct takes over. I don’t think—I lunge toward Adam, shoving him up against the wall and covering his mouth with my palm before he can say anything more incriminating.
“Are you with someone?” Iris asks.
“No. I’m—I’m outside. On a sidewalk. It’s crowded.”
I can feel myself acting a little unhinged. It should’ve been easy to say,yeah, I’m with a colleague, can I call you Monday?It wouldn’t have even been a lie. Except for the part about me thinking of Adam as a colleague. Because he’s not just a random guy I know through work, he’s someone I might really be starting to like, and that’s the entire issue, because I don’t know how to do this anymore. Especially not with someone in the music business. Griffin made me gun-shy. Made it impossible for me to feel this way about someone without worrying it will all blow up in my face one day.
Adam’s eyes burn into mine. His mouth has gone slack beneath my touch, but his fingers are curled into fists at his sides, like it’s taking all of his restraint to keep from putting his hands on me. A shiver runs down my spine and I find myself tempting fate—pressing more of my weight against him, one of my legs slipping between his. He exhales sharply against my fingertips.
Iris says something I don’t quite catch, too distracted bythe heat of Adam’s palms as they wrap around my waist and hold me in place.
My fingertips drag across Adam’s full bottom lip. He remains passive, allowing me to explore for a suspended moment before his lips twitch beneath my touch and his tongue flicks out to lick the pad of my thumb.
My breath catches and heat flashes low in my belly. I cut Iris off midsentence.
“Hey, Iris? I’m so sorry—now is actually not a great time. Can I call you later?”
