Chapter 7

SEVEN

SOPHIE

Sophie pulled open the door to her favorite coffee shop, Sugar Mugs. A quaint shop plunked in the middle of a residential neighborhood, where the owner, Charlie, had converted the house’s downstairs living space into the shop. The deep hues of freshly brewed espresso hit Sophie’s nose, and soon she was in a sea of rainbows, plants, and Macklemore. She had to smile… Charlie had an obvious fascination with the Seattle rapper.

The line moved swiftly, as two baristas built drinks while Charlie charmed the customers at the till. Sophie reached the counter and grinned at Charlie, who pushed her long, curly red braid away from her face. “Sophie, hey! Haven’t seen you for a minute.”

Sophie dug out her wallet. “I know, I’ve been stupid busy at work.”

“Isn’t that the theme of your life? Or so Maya says.” Charlie grabbed an empty cup and a marker. “What can I get you?”

“Something salty and sugary and super terrible for me.”

“I have the perfect one.” Charlie waved the Sharpie in the air. “Loving your outfit.”

Sophie flashed her hand across her Guns N’ Roses T-shirt, ripped cropped mom jeans, and flannel. “This old thing?” She laughed, hating that it took her longer than normal to pick out a I don’t care (but I actually really care) outfit. “When did you chat with Maya?” A small ache in Sophie’s heart grew that besides the recent hiking trip, everyone else saw her best friend more than her.

“We had movie night with her, Remi, and Ben a couple days ago.” Charlie scribbled on a cup and set it behind her. “I hope you can make it one of these times.”

Work sucked every ounce of Sophie’s free time. It wasn’t lost on her that she stopped receiving invites for most things. Maya still let her know about movie nights, but it was clear no one expected her to show.

But soon, work would calm down, and she could live a more balanced life. Once she finished this Devil’s Doughnuts campaign, things would change. Her inner voice whispered snidely that she’d been saying this line to herself for the last six years.

She shushed it.

She crossed over to the order pickup line and swiped through work emails on her phone.

“Have you ever thought we are in one of those strange, universal swirls, like The Matrix or something?” Charlie asked while frothing milk. “Maybe more like queer Days of Our Lives ?”

Sophie lowered her cell. “What do you mean?”

“Your bestie is stupidly in love with my bestie’s roommate.”

A very small queer world indeed. Charlie’s best friend, Ben, had been roommates with Maya’s girlfriend, Remi, since they were teens. “And now your bestie sees my bestie more than me.”

“That’s a lot of besties happening. I’m already confused.” Charlie handed her the drink. “Maybe we should dump them, and you and I can become besties.”

“I kind of love that idea.” Sophie blew into the cup and took a small sip, the salted caramel and chocolate flavor hitting her taste buds. Yum. She glanced around the filled coffee shop for Charlie’s girlfriend. “Is Mack around?”

Charlie wiped a minor spill in front of Sophie. “No, she’s with her dad. They had a super early tee time.”

“Golfing?” Sophie asked. “I can’t even picture that.”

“I know. She was all paranoid about getting grass stains.” Charlie tossed the rag behind her. “This is good for her.” A group of customers entered the shop, and Sophie moved to a table.

Sophie breathed a sigh of relief that Mack wasn’t here. Mack was a talented author and Sophie, much like most of the country, had devoured her debut thriller a few years back. Sophie tried not to flush at the memory of when she’d attended Mack’s book signing in Seattle and shamelessly flirted with the woman. So embarrassing . Of course, she’d had no idea Mack was with Charlie at the time. The few times she’d seen Mack since then, Mack never said anything, and Sophie never said anything. Instead, she prayed to the lesbian gods that Mack forgot about the interaction.

As mortifying as that situation was, it also highlighted a dejecting truth—the interaction with Mack was one of a few times in recent memories that Sophie hit on anyone. Her dry spell was a legit famine-level, shriveled-up, dehydrated state of being, and she really needed to get laid by something that didn’t require a USB cable. She pulled out a dating app and her belly sank. Not that dating apps were wrong, but because she had zero free time, she usually looked at the hookup-only statuses. And after a few swipes, she felt cheap. Hookups were fine, great, even—for people who only wanted hookups.

She knew she wanted more. She wanted a damn soulmate. A woman to come home to, to sit with in front of the red-brick fireplace on a Sunday morning with endless sugared Colombian coffee and an afghan they’d crocheted together. She wanted to hike at Snoqualmie Falls, and take selfies at one of the rainbow intersections in Capitol Hill, and eat dim sum in the International District. She wanted to lie under the cherry blossoms at the University of Washington and marvel at how the quad turned into a sea of cotton candy. She wanted to watch the salmon swim at the Ballard Locks and watch the cruise ships leave the port and snuggle with a fat rescue cat while binge-watching rom-coms.

She wanted love. Even if she had no idea how to make space in her life for it.

From the corner, a woman peeked up and gave her a look. A definite, definite look. Sophie clicked from the app to emails, but the words muddied. She glanced back up, her eyes skimming the dark pixie cut highlighting a sloped neck. The woman’s outlined ruby lips looked a bit like Ella’s. Yesterday, Sophie noticed Ella’s lips curved up in the corner in a rare smile, and the tiniest dimple appeared. A flutter started in her gut.

Wait, nope. What the hell am I doing? Why compare this stranger to Ella? See, she needed to get laid. Now she was having warm thoughts about her highly annoying, yet beautiful, co-worker.

The woman tossed another look, with her lashes fluttering beneath her downcast eyes. Sophie set her phone upside down on the table—the universal sign for “I’m open for conversation.”

I’m doing this. She might be rusty, but Sophie could absolutely do this. Her outfit was cute, her makeup on point, her loins were rising from hibernation. She tugged on her jeans, took a quick sip of her coffee, and stood.

“Hey,” the woman said.

“Hey.” A deep voice behind Sophie responded and a man passed her to approach the woman at the table.

Sophie froze. Her cheeks, chest, even her ass turned red. I’m dying. Seriously, just bury me . As the man approached, Sophie slunk back into her chair, and focused hard on her phone. Flipping back open the dating app, she scrolled through pictures until she could unbury herself from the six-feet-deep embarrassment coffin.

Face after face, she swiped and swiped. Choosing a hookup based on a profile picture alone, not on the million other things that were more important to her, made her feel grosser by the second. But she needed someone messy right now, to scratch an itch, so she could focus on?—

No fucking way. Sophie brought the phone closer to her face. Was that… No. Yep. Definitely, yep. Ella’s face in a muted, black-and-white photo, a thin black strap draping off the shoulder, a shy, bit-lip pose, the hint of some glorious, full, robust even, cleavage that Sophie hadn’t noticed under the suits and sweaters. Right there, right in front of her, on a queer hookup site. The picture could almost be passed off as someone else. Almost. The hair was longer, softer with beach waves, no blunt black bangs. But those signature lips, and the smattering of freckles above her nose, sometimes hidden when her glasses dipped, and that heart-shaped face confirmed Ella’s identity.

Relationships suck. Queer Seattle woman looking for one-night-only friendship. No strings attached, no gushy love match, no need to exchange anything more than an astrological sign. A few hours, some stress relief, maybe some good chocolate.

Ella was queer? Jesus, Sophie was off her game. Her belly tingled, her toes tingled. Even her freaking scalp tingled.

Ugh.

She stood and threw her backpack over her shoulders.

“Sophie!” Charlie called out, and motioned her forward. “Mack and I are going to see if everyone wants to go for dinner next weekend. Can you join?”

She needed a night with friends like people needed air. “I’d love to, but not sure I can swing it. Can I let you know later? Work, you know?” She rolled her eyes and checked her watch. “Speaking of, I’m going to head out. Say hi to everyone for me. Even Remi.” She grinned and skip-jogged to catch the metro.

Maya’s girlfriend was a tough case to crack. Sophie wore her emotions on her sleeve, but Remi… did not. Months passed before she really got to know the woman. She tried not to take it personally at first, which was an utter failure, because how else would she take someone giving her the cold shoulder? Sophie even complained once to Maya, about six months back or so, that she thought Remi hated her. Maya explained how sometimes when kids grow up in the system, their ability to open up takes a long time. Once Sophie let that go, and it seemed Remi accepted Sophie was a permanent, although sporadic, fixture in their lives, things shifted. A few pool nights, mocktail hours, and a random shared love of HGTV shifted Sophie and Remi into buddies.

As the bus trudged through the city, Sophie reviewed a half dozen emails and messages that had come in since logging off last night. The creative team was ready for the pre-strategy meeting, but the passive-aggressive email string indicated that the social and web teams were having a vast difference of opinion. This meant that in addition to being an organizer and cheerleader, Sophie would have to be a mediator. Maintaining a Zen-like state within the office, especially during crunch time, while dealing with fragile egos, was one of the toughest parts of her job.

An image of crying from the dock as the cruise ship left the port among hollers and whistles from passengers filled Sophie’s mind. What if they couldn’t get it done? Training in Ella took more time than what it was worth, and the irritation grew at the loss of productivity. George hovered more these last two weeks than the last six years, and as “approachable” as he may be ( I’m just like you guys , he’d say in his five-piece tailored suit), he was still the CEO and it wracked her nerves. In the past week, she’d sent out an email with a typo, failed to book a large-enough space for a strategy overview, and showed up late to an integrated marketing all-hands meeting.

She was frustrated with the chaos Ella brought into her workspace. Unfairly, for sure. Maybe.

The bus pulled to a stop, and she checked the time. Perfect . She had a few extra minutes and needed to hear the voice of reason. She grabbed her cell and dialed.

“Hey, honey!” Her mom’s voice rang through Sophie’s headphones. “What’s going on?”

So many things . She was tired. She wanted this cruise so bad. And she hated working with Ella. Even more, she was irritated with herself that when Ella concentrated really hard, her glasses would slip down her nose and she pushed them up with a charming, doe-eyed look. “I don’t think I’m going to get to go on the cruise.”

“Oh no! Why not?”

Sophie stepped into the bare building lobby and took a seat on a bench. “There’s just no way we’ll finish in time. The deadline’s too aggressive.”

A pause followed. “Do you know your dad last week said he wanted to read every book in the library before he died, going A to Z. That was his goal.”

Her mom—queen of the random responses. “Lofty goal.” But not a surprising one. Her dad had a target to read two hundred books a year, and he almost always exceeded it.

“Yeah, and then as we were talking about it, he quickly realized that they have a constant rotation. Even if he finished, he will never actually finish because of the new ones coming in, and the old ones they remove. He got pretty down for a few minutes, you know, until he perked up at the idea that he’ll never run out of books to read.”

Made sense. But also, Sophie had no idea what this meant in terms of her not going on the cruise.

“The ride is what he likes. If he actually read all of them, then what? He’d be lost,” her mom continued. “Point is, sometimes it’s about the journey. You love what you do. And you deserve to go on a cruise, if that’s what you want to do. But stressing about the result is not doing you any favors.”

Ah. Okay, maybe she had a point. Sophie dropped her bag at her feet and stared at the front doors to make sure no one she knew was entering. “So, I have a new co-worker, Ella, that I’ve been training in the last couple weeks.”

“Couple weeks? I can’t believe you didn’t tell me this earlier. Wasn’t that one of your big goals? They’re so lucky to have someone as sweet and patient as you to be their trainer.”

Sophie’s throat bobbed with a hard swallow. “Not sure she’d feel like that.”

“Really? Why not?”

Divulging the crappy way she’d been treating Ella made her stomach curl. “I could be better, you know? I haven’t, um, been the nicest.”

The sound of her mom sipping echoed through the phone. “This isn’t like you. You’re nice to everyone.”

“Not her.” Well, she said it, and facing the truth was definitely on the top-ten ick factor list.

“Well, if you don’t like her, I don’t like her, and she must’ve done something to deserve it.”

Did she, though? Sophie pushed a thumb into her temple. Sure, it was hugely unfair how she landed the job and got special treatment. But did anyone really deserve being treated less kindly? “No, she’s actually pretty cool. Really smart. She went to UW, and even took some grad classes at Stanford.”

“Ah. She’s one of those.”

Sophie winced at the remark. What would her mom say if she found out that Ella was the CEO’s daughter? “I mean, she’s a super hard worker.”

“No one is a harder worker than you.” Her mom’s tone had a defiant snap. “You get that work ethic from your dad, you know.”

“He’d say I got it from you.” She grinned through the words, engaging in the familiar bragging-rights ritual of who passed along the long lineage of working yourself to the bone. It was always a compliment—her parents acknowledging her hustle.

The door swung open, and she jutted her head at a woman who worked in a different office.

“Hey, Mom, gotta run. Love you.”

“Love you, kiddo! Come see us soon, we miss you.”

The office was quiet. All week she’d arrived early to monitor the demonic thirst trap, but today she was looking for some time to herself. After tossing back the rest of the Sugar Mugs coffee, she needed a second cup. The motion sensor lights kicked on in the breakroom, the leftover lemon and bleach scent of the night cleaning crew lingered. Her shoulders softened. She enjoyed the quiet, with nothing but the hum of the refrigerator and the faint murmur of the city street twenty floors below.

She tapped the espresso into the filter and clicked it, the screech of pressurized water pushing over the beans. Two pumps vanilla, a bucket of cream, an extra packet of raw sugar, and she moved to the large window. The city bloomed alive below. Bike riders zigzagged on the bike lane, cars filled the road back-to-back, commuters speed-walked to their respective builds. All she needed was five minutes of silent bliss and she could?—

“Good morning.” The brisk, smile-less voice accompanied a brisker, heels-against-hardwood walk as Ella made her way to the refrigerator.

Sophie’s neck grew tight. Peaceful moment—gone. “Morning.”

Ella looked softer today somehow, wearing black jeans, flats, and a deep purple puff sweater. Purple was definitely a good color on her, showcasing the soft pink that highlighted her cheekbones. The fact that she’s looking for a hookup. Sophie shook her head. Her face burned. She needed to stop, focus, and slow these swirling thoughts. Ella was fresh blood. That was all. Sophie didn’t even like her.

Try and be nice. It was Thursday, after all. Only one more day before a weekend of sleeping, streaming, and sapphic-novel reading.

Ella bent over and Sophie just so happened to catch the curve of a particularly juicy ass perked up in the air as she wiggled to dig out a sparkling water from the drawer. Who knew? Stop! She snapped her gaze to the ceiling, then her cup, then decided it’d be safer to turn around completely. Dear God. She needed to shake that sultry image from the dating app. Sophie knew this personal secret about Ella, but she and Ella were colleagues. Knowing Ella was looking for a hookup didn’t feel right.

And it shouldn’t feel this good, either.