Rejection stings even when delivered gently. “Neo gives off F-boy vibes,” I say. “I wouldn’t let a guy like that rewrite your value. He doesn’t even know you.”
“It’s not just him.” She leans against the wall. “I was at a gay bar last week with my roommate Chloe and finally worked up the courage to talk to this woman. She’d been looking at me, so I thought it was cool. Like… putting myself out there with a decent shot, you know?”
I nod for her to continue. “We talked for a bit. Then, like Neo, she said I was cute and sweet. Like a puppy. Not a woman someone could actually desire.”
“Soph.” I put my hand on her wrist. “You are sweet. But there’s intelligence and steel there, too. The way you faced your harasser. The way you’re living on your own in Chicago, working hard to build your career. You’re no puppy.”
“Thanks, Ray.”
“It’s true. The right man or woman will appreciate that balance of sweet and sturdy.”
“You think so?”
“I know so. And one day, Neo will be kicking himself that he misjudged you.”
She smiles, clearly liking the idea of him living with regret.
“You’re amazing just the way you are.” I link arms with her and head back out into the sun.
When Sophia returns to the café, I grab another water. A reporter I recognize approaches, and I paste on a smile.
“What did you think of Mayor Diablo’s remarks?” he asks.
“You’ll have to be more specific.”
“He said his expansion plan is being revised.”
“It definitely needs an overhaul,” I reply, intentionally. “But I’ll reserve further comment until I see the details. Enjoy the festival, and be sure to try the funnel cakes.”
The walkie-talkie crackles as I walk away. Symone’s voice cuts through the static about a food vendor losing power. I pivot immediately to arrange for perishables to be moved to the backup fridge while she tracks down the on-site electrician.
It takes longer to resolve than expected.
Come evening, I’m wilted. With Symone left in charge, I slip home to rinse off sunscreen, sweat, and sand. I pull my hair up into a top knot to get it off my neck, then choose another sundress. Shorter. Fitted through the bodice, the flare skirt with a flirty ruffle hem swings a little when I walk.
Still appropriate. Breathable. But playful enough for DK to notice.
By the time I return, the opening act has finished, and a large crowd has gathered near the stage waiting for the main event. Security lines the perimeter. Lifeguards sit high on their posts, scanning for drunk swimmers testing fate.
I do a full sweep of the event. Check the vendors. Check my team. And look out for DK.
A couple is tucked near the dunes, kissing like no one else exists. I long to feel that again—DK’s hands and mouth, his groans rough and dirty in my ear while he fucks the hell out of me.
My cheeks flush, and my body follows. Next weekend seems so far away, and my toys just aren’t hitting like they usually do. I need him. I pull out my phone and text.
Me: Where are you?
DK: Here. Beside the stage. You?
Me: Near the taco stand feeling thirsty.
DK: I’ll grab you water.
Me: Not that kind of thirsty. This kind.
A pause.
I can practically see it—his body reacting before his brain catches up.
