33 Things They Don't Tell You About Being Basic

3: The Stars Are No Excuse

Even though I had no way of knowing that Mason, his name seemed to be, owned the same red sailboat that I saw on Lake Erie when I was selling my crochet at the craft fair at the lighthouse, I finally had a way of finding out. Maybe it was the main reason I was drawn to him, but he wasn't unattractive either. He seemed like he had better things to do than to focus on maintaining a perfectly well-kept appearance, but his natural confidence was much more interesting than a neatly styled haircut could ever be.

But if I found out he didn't shower regularly, that was going to be a deal breaker.

As I plopped down on the couch after work, there was more room to sit without several throw pillows I had made taking up space. The craft fair was certainly not a waste of time in multiple ways. But as I sunk down into the cushions to take a little bit of the stress of the evening off of my feet, Alex let out a high-pitched shriek of words that I couldn't understand, and I knew that I had walked into an argument.

What was the problem this time?

"MG, you're back. Would you please tell Alex that she has absolutely no taste?" Blake said and held up a harvest orange kitchen towel with pumpkin spice and everything nice embroidered on it.

"What's the issue with it? It's cute," I said. "Did you get it on Etsy?"

Alex nodded. "It was supposed to be a birthday present for you, but Blake found it and threw a fit because it's the most hideous thing he's ever seen."

I rolled my eyes. "Well, it's not for you, so what does it matter?"

"I cannot have my home looking like it was decorated by Joanna Gaines. Hell no," Blake said. "If she wanted to get you a stupid present like that, she probably should have gotten something that said it's not my fault—I'm a Scorpio or some shit. I would have been much more okay with that, and you know I know that astrology stuff is bullshit."

I had never once blamed my Scorpio tendencies on what was happening in the sky (even if it really wasn't my fault), but I let it go. "I'll keep it in my bathroom when it's finally my birthday. Happy?"

Blake paused for a moment and looked at Alex. She nodded.

"Yeah, that's fine," he said.

I smiled. "Good. Now if you all would shut up, I had a long day at work today, and I just want some peace and quiet."

Blake let out a quick breath. "A hard day of bringing people food and drinks, yes."

I raised my eyebrows. "What? It is hard work."

"Tell me that again when you get a real job," he said.

Before I could tell him that being on my feet for a whole shift was much more of a real job than sending emails for eight hours, he walked back down the hall and into his room, and he shut the door just a step below slamming it.

"I don't know what's wrong with him. Obviously, a birthday present that's over a month away is a huge deal, and you being tired after work like anyone is also very bold of you," Alex said.

"Whatever. He's just mad that I make more than him without a degree," I said.

Alex laughed. "Most likely, yes."

While Alex and I got to know Blake at two separate phases in his life—me in childhood, and her in college—when we put it all together, we had a pretty good understanding of him. At least we believed that we did. We hadn't been proven wrong yet.

I went back to the couch to sort through everything that I had collected into my purse during the day. Even though I was pretty sure it was against the rules, I always kept a few business-ish cards on me that made me look much more professional than I actually was for my craft shop to give to people who looked like they would be interested in my crochet. But what I was really looking for were my tips for the evening and that phone number.