Kiernan and Montana aren't looking for complicated in their Chicago summer, but somehow complicated has found them.
[co-written with @w1ldflow3r]
[extended summary inside]
Emelia drew an X over her heart as she retreated to her cubicle.
I huffed out another sigh as I returned my focus to my notebook. It was hard not to like Emelia. She radiated this easy-going yet focused energy that made her a good ally to have in a hectic campaign environment.
She also had extensive knowledge of Illinois state politics, and I enjoyed our policy-oriented conversations.
That said, I had no intention of getting drinks with Emelia's Notre Dame friends. I didn't need a new friend group in Chicago, and I was perfectly content with keeping to myself throughout the remainder of the campaign.
I was in Chicago because I'd seen something rare and magnetic in Cassandra Symons. Before joining the state Senate, she worked as a managing attorney in Chicago's District Attorney's Office and taught constitutional law at the University of Chicago. She had a vision for education reform and economic development. I looked at her and I saw someone who could be a force in the U.S. Senate.
I never thought I'd be a political romantic, but I became one the first time I heard Symons speak at a symposium in New Haven last year. It was why I never once considered turning down a high-level job in her campaign.
I was here for the campaign and my future. That was all.
･:*˚:✧｡｡✧:˚*:･
I went for a run along the river.
Despite visiting Chicago countless times in my twenty-four years, I'd never gotten over just how strikingly blue the water was. Sure, it was absolutely filthy, but it was stunning. The lights from the skyscrapers had just started to reflect off of its surface, and the river boats coasted along in a way that almost seemed weightless.
I slowed to a stop as I turned onto my street and stopped my watch. I'd kept it simple tonight with a 5K, not wanting to push myself on a Monday when I knew I had a long week ahead of me.
On my way back into the building, I said goodnight to Leo, the doorman who'd known me since I was eleven. He'd witnessed me in various states and styles over the years, but I'd become rather tame since moving in last month.
The apartment in Streeterville was essentially a second-home to me. My parents were both originally from Chicago, but had moved to Greenwich, Connecticut shortly before I was born. They'd bought the condo 10 years ago after deciding that they wanted to spend more time in the city, where my father's parents still lived.
I'd spent various holidays with my family in Chicago, and had used the apartment in recent years for fun weekend getaways with my university friends. But now it was just me. My parents still lived in Greenwich, and my sister was about to start her final year at Berkeley.
When I stepped onto the elevator, I could still still see the sweat glistening on my forehead in my reflection in the mirrored walls. Summers in Chicago were notoriously hot and dry with the exception of a few thunderstorms, which was why I liked to run after work when at least some of the heat had burned off.
"Cute," I muttered, brushing away the flyaways. "Super cute."
The doors opened on floor 11 and I walked to the literal opposite end of the hallway to reach my apartment. Whenever I came home after a night out, I either conquered this journey at turbo speed or felt like Jesus in the desert for 40 days and 40 nights.
Mom had completely redecorated the two bedroom, two-bathroom apartment three years ago, stocking it with furniture from West Elm and the Container Store. The apartment itself had floor-to-ceiling windows in the open-floor plan, with views of Lake Michigan, and the kitchen boasted modern light fixtures and appliances.
Once I secured the door-chain lock for my peace of mind, I kicked off my Brooks and went into the smaller bedroom. Even though I was the only one living here, and my parents had urged me to use the master bedroom, I preferred this one.
The final minutes of golden hour sunlight warmed the hardwood floors and cut across the queen-sized bed. I'd picked out new neutral-colored bedding from Anthropologie and freshed up some of the decor, though it still made me nostalgic in the best way. My sister and I would share the bedroom whenever our family of four was in town, but now it was mine. I'd made damn sure that Ines knew that too.
After taking a hot girl shower and changing into my favorite mocha brown lounge set from Wildred Free, I went to the kitchen to prepare dinner while listening to The Daily podcast from The New York Times. I'd just plated the salmon when my phone lit up with a text from my sister. She was living out in Los Angeles this summer while she interned for The L.A. Times, taking after my parents' illustrious journalism careers.
INES GREY:HELLO 🗣
INES GREY:did you flame Emelia for setting you up with Corn-Fed Jed?
I snorted. Ines always came up with the best nicknames.
KIERNAN GREY:Corn Fed Jed!!! That's iconic
KIERNAN GREY:and no, i didn't. I work with her and it's in my best interest to be nice
KIERNAN GREY: she knows it was a complete fail, though. So at least there's that
INES GREY: 😮💨
INES GREY:anyway, let's facetime tomorrow. LOVE YOU!
KIERNAN GREY: love you too 🤍
I smiled to myself as I read over Ines's Corn-Fed Jed text one more time before returning to finalizing my plate with rice, spinach, and sweet potatoes. I wasn't a great chef, but I wouldn't ever make a fool of myself in the kitchen. Besides, I was also the only person I needed to please with my cooking.
With my plate in hand, I left my phone plugged in on the kitchen island and settled onto the couch to devote my entire focus to watching The West Wing. This was exactly how I'd wanted to spend last Friday night, but better late than never.
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kiernan's living out my speech writing dream and will be throwing around political jargon like confetti. no one is happier about this than me
anyway this chapter was all about character building, and i hope you're rooting for our classy, career-driven baddie. the next chapter is montana's pov, but k will make an appearance xx
