I’m luckier than lucky.
But as I get ready for my interview, I’m nervous. My stomach is in a tight knot. The few interviews I’ve been to since I lost my job have not worked out. It’s difficult to stay confident after a string of rejections like that.
My phone rings, and it’s Keagan. I pick up, already smiling.
“How are you feeling?” he asks.
“Nervous. What if I don’t get it?” I’m worried that I will become a burden. I’m already invading his personal space, even though he doesn’t seem to mind.
“Then we try again. You can stay with me as long as you need. You know that.” It’s like he’s reading my mind. “But I believe in you, and I’m sure it will go well. If they don’t hire you, they’re blind to your talent.”
He’s always been great at pep talks. I smile and thank him. When we hang up, I feel a little better about it. I take a deep breath and blow it out slowly.
I get in my car and turn on the radio so music swirls around me. It’s not too loud, just enough to take the edge off. I type in the address and let my GPS guide me through town.
My mind isn’t on the interview or the questions they might ask and the answers I might give. It should be, but it’s Keagan that I’m thinking about. He’s on my mind a lot these days. My mom is being strange about my relationship with him. She’s always been open-minded, but she’s actively encouraging it, and it’s awkward. It’s a little too much for me. I know Keagan is irritated with it as well. The whole thing is a difficult topic, especially when they barge in on our personal time like that.
Not that they knew it was personal. My mom may have known, but not Chris.
I’m not sure what’s going on between him and Keagan. I noticed that Keagan was upset after they’d spoken, but he didn’t tell me anything. I know better than to push him to open up before he’s ready to tell me. Living in the same house as him for years has given me an advantage in this relationship that others don’t have.
I shake off the thought and scold myself for it. It’s not a relationship. Casual sex. We agreed on that. I’m not going to make it any more complicated than it already is.
Whatever is going on between Chris and Keagan, I’m going to trust that he’ll tell me if he wants me to get involved. It’s the least I can do, seeing that I’m already imposing on every other level of his life.
Finally, I pull up in front of the building where I’m to be interviewed. I swallow hard and force myself to take deep, slow breaths. I’ve done this a million times. I know what interviews are like. I know how to handle questions, and I know who I am as a designer.
Like Keagan said, I have talent.
I walk into the offices of Golden Image Designers and walk to the front desk.
“I’m here for an appointment with Julia,” I said.
The receptionist smiles politely and looks me up on the system.
“Dana White?” she asks.
I nod. She points me down the hallway, explaining which way I need to go. I follow her instructions and find the waiting area where I’ve been told to wait. I sit down on a deep red leather couch and clutch my handbag on my lap. My portfolio rests against the side of the couch.
No matter how many interviews I do, I’ll never get used to being scrutinized. And it’s always strange to walk into an unfamiliar office with the express goal of having them invite me to work there.
“Dana?” a woman’s voice calls.
I turn in my seat to look at her. She’s got long brunette hair that curls over her shoulders, and she’s wearing a black and red power suit that accentuates her figure beautifully. She walks toward me, and I like her already.
“I’m Julia Summers,” she says and holds out her hand. I take it.
“Nice to meet you, Ms. Summers,” I say.
“Oh, Julia is fine. Follow me.”
I follow Julia through the maze of corridors until we reach her office. She closes the door behind me and tells me to sit down.
“Tell me about yourself,” she says. “Tell me why you design.”
They never ask me such personal questions. I let my mind slip back to the reason I started.
“I design because I was born to create,” I say. “And there’s something so satisfying about a beautifully created space.”
I elaborate a little on why I specialized. She asks me how I would approach clients, how I would handle pressure and deadlines, and finally, she asks to see my portfolio.
I hand it to her, and she opens it up. Her eyes flicker over my work, and I feel raw and vulnerable. This is the most intimate part of me. I poured out my soul on those pages, and for someone else to study my work for flaws is never easy.
Finally, Julia looks up at me.
“You have a unique flare,” she says. “We can use that at Golden Image.”
I swallow. A compliment is always good.
“Let me be straightforward with you, Dana,” she says, closing my portfolio and handing it back to me. “I want you to work for us.”
I blink at her. “Just like that? I mean, no second interview or anything?”
Julia shakes her head. “I know talent when I see it, Dana. I would be a fool to let another company scoop you up.”
I nod slowly, trying to process exactly what’s happening.
“I’ve got the job?” I ask.
Julia smiles. “You’ve got the job.”
She stands up and holds out her hand across the desk. I shake it in a daze.
“Thank you,” I say. I’m a little stunned.
“Lisa, my secretary, will be in touch with you soon to arrange contracts and your starting date.”
I nod, thank her again, and leave the office. I feel like I’m walking on air. I can’t believe it. Did I just get a job? It’s only been a month since I was fired and I lost my home, but it feels like a lifetime. And it’s finally over.
When I’m in my car again, I close my eyes and let out a deep breath, as if I’ve been holding it for a long time. I dial Keagan’s number and my car’s Bluetooth picks up my phone. When he answers, his voice is all around me.
“I got it,” I say. “I got the job.”
I can hear him smiling when he answers. “I knew you were brilliant. We have to celebrate this.”
“Tonight?” I ask.
“Let’s start right now,” he says. “Come to lunch with me. I’m here with Mason.”
I nod. “I’ll be right there. Where are you?”
My phone beeps with a location, and I end the conversation. They’re not too far from me, and I head over.
Blu Jam café is always busy around lunch time, and I walk in, telling the waiter I’m meeting someone. Keagan and Mason are in a booth against the wall. The café has a light, modern feel to it with white walls and floors and light brown and black furniture. I hug Mason before I sit down next to Keagan on the black leather booth seat.
“Congratulations,” Keagan says, giving me a hug. He kisses me on my cheek and butterflies erupt in my stomach.
“Thank you,” I say.
“Aww, come on. Lay a fat one on her lips. Don’t be shy,” Mason says.
I stare at him, confused. When I glance at Keagan, he shrugs. So Mason knows. They’re good friends. If Keagan decided to tell him, it should be all right. I trust Keagan’s judgment.
“I’m glad you two finally decided to admit you were meant to be together,” Mason says in a teasing voice. I can’t tell if he’s joking or serious. He looks from me to Keagan, as if he’s expecting a response.
“It’s just casual sex, Mason,” I say when Keagan doesn’t say anything. “No big deal.”
Mason frowns at me and looks at Keagan. “That’s not what I heard.”
Keagan kicks Mason underneath the table.
“That wasn’t necessary,” Mason grumbles.
I look at Keagan. “What was that all about?” I ask.
Keagan shakes his head. “Mason’s just being an idiot.”
Mason doesn’t look h
appy, but he doesn’t say anything. I don’t know what’s going on, but I have an idea that Keagan told him things he hasn’t told me. My insides burn with curiosity, but I decide not to push things right now. I’m in too good of a mood from getting a new job, and I don’t want to ruin it.
I don’t stay to eat with them. I have a coffee and leave them to it. I don’t know how I feel about what Mason said. I know I feel more for Keagan. This doesn’t feel like just a casual thing to me. But Keagan has a reputation to uphold, and even though we liked each other before our parents got married, the rest of the world won’t see it that way.
If I’m going to be involved with him sexually, I’m going to have to stop having feelings for him. I don’t know if I can do that. Fighting my growing feelings for him is like trying to fight gravity or the changing tides.
I stop at my mom’s studio next to share the good news with her. Chris is on his way out of the door just as I walk toward it. I hug him and tell him about my new job just before he leaves to see another client. He says he’s thrilled for me.
When I walk into the studio, my mom sits on one of the couches with an art book.
“There you are,” she says with a smile when I bend down to hug her.
“I got a job,” I say.
She reaches up and squeezes my hand. “I always knew you could do it. You never disappoint me.”
I smile and sit down beside her.
“What’s wrong?” my mom asks, even though I walked in with good news.
Is it that obvious that I have something on my mind? I shrug. “It’s nothing serious.”
“Is it about Keagan?” she asks.
She knows me far too well for me to be able to hide anything from her.
“This is so weird, Mom,” I say. “With you knowing what’s happening and pushing about it all the time. Shouldn’t we not talk about it?”
My mom smiles. “I know you can’t discuss this with your friends. It’s good to have someone to talk to, at least.”
I sigh. Maybe she’s right. My friends would flip out about what’s happening before I would be able to ask for advice or help.
“Talk to me,” my mom says.
So, I do.
“I think I need to break it off with Keagan.” I say the words that have been spinning in my mind since Mason’s comment.
My mom frowns. “Why?”
I shake my head slowly, trying to figure out what I’m thinking and feeling. “Because I’m scared I’m developing feelings for him. You know?”
I don’t want to admit that I’ve already developed feelings for Keagan, deeper feelings that go beyond just casual fun. And I certainly don’t say that it is because we are fucking. Saying it out loud to my mother, even when she knows, is still weird.
My mom looks at me, and her face is hard to read.
“Why is it wrong to feel something for him?” she asks.
I groan. “I don’t even have to go into that with you. The stepbrother thing isn’t going to go down very well with the public, considering his reputation.”
My mom shakes her head.
“That shouldn’t matter. If you both feel the same for each other. You have talked to him, right?”
I can’t exactly tell him that I am falling for him when I am the one that decided to keep it at casual sex. Besides, I don’t even know for sure if I really am falling for him, or if it is just a silly crush. I hope it is the latter. It would be so much easier to deal with.
“Talk to him,” my mom says. “Before you do anything. You’ll find that choices are so much easier when you’re open about how you feel.”
I nod, even though I’m not certain about her advice. Baring my soul to Keagan would be difficult. I’d be putting myself out on a limb, making myself vulnerable. My mom can tell me how easy it is, but she isn’t the one that isn’t sure what she feels for her stepbrother or how she should go about dealing with it.
Keagan
After seeing Mason, work suddenly became chaotic. Something went wrong with a system, and I had to slave away with my team to sort it out as quickly as possible. When something goes wrong with a social media platform, the world goes mad. Not only is it poor form, but users are selfish and won’t allow for mistakes.
By the time I pull into my parking space, my head feels like sponge, and it throbs dully between my temples. I’ve been in meetings all day, arguing back and forth about what would be the quickest route to take. When I wasn’t arguing, I was staring at a screen, trying to figure out what the hell was wrong.
The smell of food lingers in the corridor leading to my front door, and I breathe in deeply. Living in an apartment building has its downsides. I hate it when I can smell everyone else’s supper, and I still have to go inside and cook my own.
When I push open the front door, the smell of food greets me, and the apartment feels warm and cozy. Dana is busy in the kitchen, and I spot pots on the stove. A carving board with a half-chopped salad sits on the counter.
“I’m home,” I say.
Dana turns around and smiles when she sees me.
“Perfect timing,” she says. “We can eat in five.”
I look at the food again.
“This is nice.”
She nods, smiling. “I thought I would do something nice for you, since you’re being so kind, letting me stay here.”
I scrutinize her face. I’m not sure what to make of her good mood. Earlier today, when Mason made that comment about us possibly being more than casual, her reaction was guarded. She ended up not staying for lunch, fleeing after her coffee. A part of me thought that she would still be upset when I came home.
She doesn’t seem upset at all.
“Go get changed into something more comfortable while I serve everything,” she says.
I must admit, coming home to a warm apartment with food almost ready is a great feeling. It gives me a taste of what it might be like if we were really together. I push the thought away. I can’t get my hopes up. I don’t know where we stand, and putting that kind of pressure on her and expecting something more is unfair.
I change out of my work clothes and into jeans and a t-shirt. When I rejoin Dana in the living room, the plates are steaming with a home cooked meal. She made rice, a stew of some kind, and a salad.
“This looks great, Dana,” I say and sit down on one of the bar stools at the counter. She pushes my plate toward me, hands me a knife and fork, and she walks around the counter and sits down on the barstool next to me.
I spear a piece of meat with my fork and put it in my mouth.
It tastes like heaven.
“I appreciate the effort,” I say, and take another bite. “This is delicious.”
“I was hoping we could sit down and just spend some time together,” she says. “We live in the same apartment, and sometimes we still manage to forget to communicate.”
I wonder if that is because of how much sex we’re having when life doesn’t get in the way. I don’t say it, though.
Dana makes small talk, asking about my day and how I managed to fix the crisis at work. I tell her what happened, and she listens attentively. Then she tells me about her interview and how relieved she feels having finally found a job. The conversation falls quiet for a while.
She clears her throat. “Can I ask you something?” she asks.
I nod.
“What would it mean for you to go public with this… thing that’s happening between us?”
I look at her. It’s a big question to ask.
“Well,” I start. “Seeing that I’m a public figure, so to speak, there will be a reaction. Some won’t like it.”
“How will it affect Sociable?” she asks.
I think about it for a second, before I shrug. “I don’t think it will affect it that much. We’ll be a scandal for a while, but in the business world, these things don’t mean as much as in the entertainment world. Besides, the platform is popular right now. I doubt I’ll be boycotted because people don’t l
ike something in my personal life.”
Dana nods slowly. She’s pushing her food around on the plate.
“Why, are you going thinking about going public?” I ask.
When she glances up at me, she looks shy, unsure.
“I was just asking,” she says.
I turn to her, my food forgotten for the moment. “You made it clear we weren’t together like that, Dana,” I say.
She shrugs. “I didn’t know that this was more than fucking to you. We agreed on something. I didn’t think it meant anything more.”
I reach for her hand. “You’ve always been more to me. Being with you isn’t just some kind of dirty fantasy.” I hesitate and then grin. “At least, it’s not just a dirty fantasy.”
She smiles, but she still looks conflicted.
“Talk to me,” I say and reach for her, brushing my knuckles against her cheek.
She takes a deep breath.
“What did you tell Mason about me?” she asks.
“I’m glad you want to know,” I say. When I told Mason, I didn’t mean for him to reveal it to her directly. “I told him that I’ve always wanted to be with you, and that it was more than me just being horny and perverted. You’ve always been special to me.”
“I didn’t think this was more than just sex,” she says again.
I shrug. “It is. I can’t help it. You’re amazing.”
She smiles. Her cheeks color and dimples appear. She’s beautiful when she blushes.
“You’ve never told me this before,” she says.
I nod. “You’re right. I didn’t know how to. I didn’t know how you would feel. Until now, you’ve been the biggest secret crush in my life, a fantasy that I could turn to, but never realize.”
She blinks at me. Her blue eyes are large and serious. She’s drinking in everything I’m telling her.
“The ball’s in your court now,” I say.
“My court?” She frowns and turns back to her food. She jabs at a piece of potato with her fork and studies it without eating it. “Why?”
“Because I don’t want to pressure you into anything you don’t want to do. But if you want to do this, if you want to take this further, it’s what I want, too.”
She finally takes a bite. I look at my own food and take a few more bites while she’s quiet and thinking. I’m almost done with my food when she looks at me again.
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