What If You & Me by Roni Loren
Chapter Sixteen
Andi grabbed two Topo Chicos from the coffee-bar counter and thanked Dwight, the new WorkAround barista, before turning to Hill, who’d arrived right on time looking like a sexy mirage in the desert after the marathon of finishing her podcast. She handed him his drink. “When you rent space here, you get two free drinks a day. My friend Jasper used to make the best iced coffees, but he’s leveled up and bought an improv theater, so now I’m working on training Dwight. He’s a sweet guy, but if you don’t watch him, he puts too much milk in everything. Luckily, he can’t mess up mineral water.”
“Thanks.” Hill accepted the drink and glanced around the bottom floor of WorkAround, his gaze bouncing from one thing to the next in the high-ceilinged, industrial-style space. The sound of clicking keyboards filled the air, and many of the hot desks were still occupied with people wearing headphones or AirPods and nursing coffee drinks even at this late hour. “So all these people are just doing their own thing?”
Andi walked alongside him, matching his slower, methodical pace and continuing her mini-tour. “Many are one-person operations, entrepreneurs, that kind of thing. Some may work for a company but work remotely and don’t want to or can’t work from home. Some have day jobs and rent a hot desk for a few hours at night or on weekends for a side hustle.” She pointed. “Alyssa over there is a social media manager for a number of popular online sites.” She nodded toward someone else. “That guy with the fedora—he’s got a YouTube channel about board games—but during the day he’s a dental hygienist. Tyra, the gorgeous woman with the messy bun, she’s got a popular beauty-based Instagram channel, but comes here a few days a week to work on the behind-the-scenes aspects of her business. She’s got a ridiculous number of sponsors, so I’m sure getting that all coordinated each week takes a lot of time.”
Hill listened intently as they walked. “You know all these people?”
Andi sipped her drink, the glass bottle already sweating even in the air-conditioned space. “Not all of them. I try to meet as many people as I can, but the hot desks rotate so much that there are always new faces. Some people’s ventures fail and they can’t afford the rent anymore. Some move on to more permanent arrangements or move into an office upstairs. Some go off the grid and hike for a year. Whatever. The first floor is very transient.”
Hill shook his head. “This makes me feel really old.”
She laughed and gave him a quick once-over. He’d gone for his standard uniform of a T-shirt—green this time—and well-fitting jeans for this visit, and was looking like all her best fantasies of him. “Yes, Hill, you’re ancient. You’re what? Thirty?”
“Thirty-one,” he said, “but in spirit, I feel ancient compared to these people—to you. I can’t imagine flying by the seat of my pants with my job. That seems terrifying.”
“Oh, it is,” she said with a humorless laugh. “I pretty much live with the daily fear that it will all crumble beneath me at any time. As my landlord, you didn’t hear that.”
His lips tipped up. “Of course not.”
“But when I think of doing something else? Some nine-to-five thing that I don’t feel passionate about? I just… I’d rather eat ramen and wait tables until I got on my feet again if what I’m doing now stops working.” She pushed the button for the elevator. “I grew up in a family where money was basically everything. My parents have a lot of it, but it’s never enough. They always want more. Status is everything. Appearances are more important than reality. I want no part of that.”
He glanced her way. “What do they think of what you do?”
She rolled her eyes as the elevator doors opened, and they both stepped inside. She pressed the button for the second floor. “They tell people I’m studying literature at Tulane.”
“What?” He leaned back, grabbing the rail on the wall behind him, and flexed his knee as if loosening it up. “You’re a published author.”
“Of utter trash, Hill,” she said patiently, using her mother’s heavy Georgia accent. “Not of respectable books an educated young woman should be writing. There’s violence and blood and sex, oh my. Things a proper young lady shouldn’t speak of, much less put in print. What did we send her to college for anyway? What a waste.”
He grimaced. “That’s messed up.”
The doors opened on to the second floor, the blast of air-conditioning hitting them in the face. “Yeah, I know, but I’ll never convince them they’re wrong. They think I write what I write because of what happened to me—an incident they’d like to pretend never occurred—so it’s a constant reminder. Thanksgiving is fun. We get to play pretend.”
He frowned as he followed her out. “I’m sorry.”
“Thanks. It’s okay. I’m used to it. I can’t live up to their expectations, and they can’t live up to mine.” She shrugged. “We’re at an impasse.”
“Well, for what it’s worth, I think you’re a badass,” he said, falling into step beside her. “I finished your book this afternoon. I never saw the twist at the end coming. You’re really talented.”
The compliment pleased her more than she would’ve expected, warming her from the inside out. She stopped in the hallway and turned to him, hand on hip. “You sure you’re not saying that just because you want to make out with me?”
He leaned down as if he were going to whisper a secret to her. “I’m saying it because it’s true. And I also want to make out with you. Those two truths can exist together, you know.”
“Oh.” A hot shiver went through her. “Well, thank you. On both.”
“You’re welcome.”
She took his hand. “Come on. I want to show you something.”
“Your office?”
“Later. First, I have a little surprise,” she said, sending him a cryptic smile as they began walking again.
His expression shifted into one of concern. “Now I’m worried.”
She laughed. “Don’t be. Trust me. This won’t hurt a bit.”
She led him down the hallway, stopping at Hollyn’s door. She knocked, and she could see her friend wave her in through the narrow window next to the door. Andi opened the door and tugged Hill in with her.
Hollyn smiled, her gaze jumping briefly to Hill and then back to Andi. “Hey.”
“Hey,” Andi said cheerfully. “I wanted to introduce you to my friend, Hill. He’s the neighbor I was telling you about.” She released Hill’s hand. “Hill, this is Hollyn. She’s a local entertainment writer and podcaster. You may know her as Miz Poppy.”
Hill’s brows lifted. “Miz Poppy. I used to read your posts on the NOLA Vibe. They were great.” He stepped forward and put out his hand. “Nice to meet you.”
Hollyn’s facial tics went through a little dance, but she maintained her smile and shook Hill’s hand. “Thanks. Nice to meet you, too.”
A bolt of pride went through Andi, seeing her friend so much more at ease than when she’d first met her. Hollyn had done a lot of hard work to manage her social anxiety, and it was goddamned inspiring. If her friend could make that much progress, surely Andi could figure out how to take some steps of her own. “So,” she said, catching Hollyn’s eye, “everything arrived okay?”
Hollyn sat back down and nodded. “Yep. All arrived as planned. You should be good to go.”
Andi leaned down and gave Hollyn a little side hug, being careful not to spill her Topo Chico. “Thanks, lady. You’re the best.”
Hill looked between the two of him, clearly growing suspicious. “What was planned?”
Andi popped up. “Welp. I think we better get out of here and let Hollyn get back to work so she can get home.”
Hill sent Hollyn a look. “Should I be scared?”
Hollyn’s nose scrunched. “With Andi, you should always be a little bit scared. But in a good way. Like a roller coaster.”
Andi laughed. “She’s not wrong.” She grabbed Hill’s hand again, liking that she could do so without overthinking it. “Thanks again, Holls.”
“Have fun,” she said as Andi and Hill walked out.
Hill went willingly, but a few steps down the hallway he asked, “Are you going to tell me what’s up?”
“Better to show you.” She turned a corner and went down a hallway she rarely had reason to travel. The double doors on the right had a clipboard hanging outside of them with the printout of who had reserved that room for which times.
When she stopped in front of it, Hill turned with her and read the label above the door. “The Test Kitchen.”
Andi bit her lip and turned to him, hoping he would be happy instead of frustrated by the surprise. “So, I know I said I was going to order takeout, but I may have asked Hollyn to book the test kitchen for us tonight, and I may have had some groceries delivered.”
He tilted his head. “May have?”
She gave him her best don’t-hate-me smile. “I was thinking maybe we could still have a cooking lesson tonight. And maybe I could video it to share with my readers and podcast listeners? I try to mix in some fun content in between all the murdery stuff.”
Hill’s expression went flat. “Video it.”
“I know you nixed the idea of being the horror-movie virgin on my podcast, which is totally fine, but I thought this may be more up your alley. You love to cook, and you’re really good at teaching it. I think if you gave it a shot, this could be a fun project for you.” She rocked back on her heels, bracing for him to shut her down. “I just know that, for me, when I’m going through a tough time, the best thing I can do is direct my energy toward something creative. I wrote my first book when I was in a really dark place, and it helped get me out of it. And I started the podcast when my anxiety was starting to overwhelm me because it gave me a small way to fight back against the bad guys.”
Empathy filled Hill’s brown eyes.
“I’m not going to pretend to know what you’re going through,” she went on. “My trauma was different from yours, but I know that finding things—even little things—that gave me joy helped me build up my energy again so that I could tackle bigger things. Maybe teaching other people to cook could give you that little boost.”
Hill let out a breath and ran a hand over the back of his head. “This is you being pushy.”
She swallowed hard. “Yes. Which you said you appreciated and, frankly, kind of asked for.”
He glanced toward the closed doors of the test kitchen and set down his mineral water on a table by the door.
“If you hate it, I won’t post the video, but I think this could be fun,” she rambled on. “I ordered some ingredients, and Hollyn made sure they were put away in here for us. I also thought you might enjoy cooking in the fancy kitchen they have here since my kitchen is kind of bare bones.”
Hill turned back to her, and she braced for him to be annoyed, but instead, he lifted his hand and cupped her jaw, his gaze searching hers. “Thank you.”
She brightened. “Really?”
His thumb brushed lightly against her cheek. “Yes. I don’t know if I’ve ever met anyone who’s so…sweet.”
She grimaced at the word.
He smiled. “Don’t make that face. I don’t mean that in a dismissive way. I just mean that it’s rare to find someone who spends their time thinking of ways to help someone else or make their life better. That’s sweet. And kind. And sexy.” He bent down and kissed her gently. “So I will cook for you on video, but no promises on if I’ll give the go-ahead for you to post it. I’ll have to make that call afterward. I’ll probably be awkward as hell on-screen.”
The simple kiss and his words had sent goose bumps chasing over her skin. She smiled. “Deal.”
He swept an arm out in front of them. “Lead the way, pushy one.”
She grabbed his hand. “Great. I’m starving.”
For dinner. But also for more time with Hill. So many times in her life, she’d pushed her friends a little too far, her “help” sometimes perceived as being overbearing, as annoying, as Andi being too much. Her family had always thought she was too much. Still did. She realized that she’d expected Hill to react the same way.
Instead, he’d called her sweet and kissed her and said yes to her plan. He was going to step out of his comfort zone and trust her. That vote of confidence filled her up. She wasn’t going to let him down. This was going to be the best damn cooking-lesson video ever created.
Or at least the most fun.
She would make sure of it.