Eighteen
Joanna
“Babe, why are you crying?” Monica said the moment I walked into her room, the textbook falling from her hands as she extended her arms in the air. “Come here. Hug me?”
I took a seat next to her on the edge of the bed. “I got it, Mon.”
Her eyes widened. “Your period? Your final GPA? Help a girl out. What are you talking about?”
“The job—not the one at the gym or with the art dealer. I’m talking about the job. The one I’ve been hoping for. The one I didn’t think I had a chance in getting because I’d heard nothing and then bam.”
A softness spread over her face as the realization hit her. “The job, job?”
A tear dripped into my mouth as I nodded.
“Oh my God, Jo.” She pulled me into her arms, hugging me. “I knew it was just a matter of time before it was yours.” She released me but gripped both of my hands. “You got it, babe, like you really got it.” There was as much emotion in her eyes as there was in mine. “I know what this means to you.”
And she did. She was the only person I’d talked to about this.
The only person who knew how badly it would hurt if it didn’t come through.
The only person who knew that this was my dream.
“I can’t believe it,” I whispered, the emotion clogging my throat, my chest aching from the news. “I seriously can’t believe it, Monica.”
She squeezed harder. “I can. You’ve worked your ass off for this. You deserve it.” She wiped one of my tears away. “When do you start?”
“Two weeks.” My lips pulled into a smile. The stress of that time frame and everything I needed to do was hitting me in a whole different way. “Which means I have fourteen days to find a place to live and move to LA and”—I paused as I shook her hands—“convince you to move with me.”
“Me?” She huffed. “LA?”
“You can’t honestly think I’m going across the country without you …” I waited for her to reply, and she didn’t. “Besides, the queen of fashion needs to be in LA, where all the celebrities live. Think of the jobs you could score with some of the established stylists and designers. Mon, you’d kill it out there.”
She turned her head, giving me her profile. “Oh God, my heart.” She swallowed. “Is this really happening? Or am I going to wake up and realize it was all a dream?”
“Oh, it’s happening and probably a little faster than either of us would like.” I took a breath, the tightening pushing the emotion away. “We need to book movers and find a place to live and—the list is endless.”
And that was only the logistics of relocating.
The job itself created a whole separate list of things I needed to do, one that involved many promises, along with a test that I still needed to pass.
It would be easier to take the position at the gallery or the gym. At least there, I knew what to expect. I would almost be my own boss.
I could stay in Miami.
But neither of those positions would make me happy.
They weren’t what I had been working so hard for.
And they wouldn’t bring me any closer to Jenner.
Jenner …
Oh God.
I shook my head, returning to the moment, clenching my best friend’s hands. “So, it’s a yes? You’re coming with me to LA?”
She bounced on the mattress. “Hell yes.” And then she sighed as she added, “But how am I going to afford the rent? Miami is expensive enough. LA is even worse.”
“We’ll figure it out.” I nodded at the Starbucks cup sitting on her nightstand. “And we’ll get you a fancy espresso machine to save you the ten dollars a day.”
Her eyes grew. “Wait. That’s how much coffee is there?”
I laughed and rested down next to her, our heads touching as we shared a pillow. “I can’t believe we graduated, like, four seconds ago, and now, this is all unfolding.”
“I can’t either,” she said.
My parents had only left a little while ago, the whole weekend a whirlwind of family and friends and celebrating, partying and tons of food.
The only thing missing was Jenner.
For many different reasons, I hadn’t invited him to come. The timing just wasn’t right for him to be here and to hang with my whole family. And knowing he had to go to London for a business trip made the decision even easier on me. But the lack of an invite hadn’t stopped him from sending an amazingly thoughtful gift.
A suitcase from Louis Vuitton.
Maybe the wanderlust in him wanted me to join him on the road.
Maybe he just wanted me to travel in style.
Or maybe he was hoping I was going to pack up that suitcase and move to California.
Whatever his reasoning was, he’d kept it to himself, and I lavished him in every kind of thank-you I could think of—FaceTime sex, texts, and several phone calls.
“So, how does this work?” Monica asked. “Do we find an apartment online? And then book movers?”
My girl was from Florida, only thirty minutes away from here, but had lived in the dorms her freshman year to get the whole college experience. That was how we’d met. The only other time she’d moved was when we got our apartment sophomore year, and we’d lived here ever since.
“It would probably be easier and more cost-effective if we sold the big things, like our couch and beds, and just bought new stuff there. Then, we can—”
My voice cut off as my phone chimed from my back pocket. I lifted my butt off the bed to grab it, reading the message on the screen.
Jenner: I want to show you Utah. How about you meet me there next week? I’m going for work, but I’ll extend the trip, and it can just be you, me, and the mountains for a few days.
My heart clenched as I read his message for a second time.
And a third.
He was asking me to go on a vacation with him?
To the place that meant the most to him, to the place where he was even thinking about buying a second home.
My hands shook as Monica tugged my arm, pulling at the phone so she could see the screen.