I could always tell what kind of mood Sophie was in by the way she answered the phone. A friendly, “Hi, how are you,” meant I had the all clear but if she skipped the greeting and launched straight into asking questions, that was usually a sign to proceed with caution. Considering how the rest of the day had gone--and the fact that Michael went to extreme lengths to avoid my gaze after we got back from lunch--I wasn’t particularly surprised when my call to Sophie that evening was met with, “What are you doing?”
I plugged my phone into my car’s auxiliary line so that Sophie’s voice echoed through the speakers. “About to drive home,” I replied, setting my phone down on the passenger’s seat and shifting into reverse. “You?”
“Come over.”
It wasn’t a request so much as a command and I knew from her clipped tone that Michael had already talked to her about the outcome of his meeting with Walter and Richard. To his credit, as annoyed as Sophie may have been, Michael seemed equally, if not more, embarrassed by his inability to swing the situation back in his favor. I guessed that Sophie would want to rant about her frustration with Michael but the truth was that I felt bad for both of them; Michael had done what he’d thought was right and, on the whole, things had worked out pretty well. I hesitated, wondering if maybe it’d be better for her to calm down first, though in the time it took me to respond, Sophie sighed impatiently. “Parker?
“Sorry. Yeah, sure,” I said as I pulled out of the parking garage and inched my way onto the main road. “Do you have plans later or should I go home first and pick up a change of clothes?”
“Whatever.”
“Is that a yes or a no? I was twenty minutes late today, so if you want me to stay over I need to know now."
“Fine, yes, stay. Just get here quickly, okay?”
There was a hint of desperation in Sophie’s voice that mirrored the pleading whine Richard had used when he’d spoken to me earlier. “Alright,” I said, before saying goodbye and signaling to turn towards my apartment.
The lone silver lining of the day was that traffic was unusually light and it took less than an hour for me to gather some clean shirts and boxers, and then promptly jump in my car again to drive to Sophie’s house. I wondered if I should pick up dinner and decided to stop at a grocery store along the way. Despite my affinity for Top-Ramen and Pop-Tarts, my mom had managed to teach me how to cook a few things before I left for college and I figured that Sophie would appreciate the gesture if I made her something off my very short menu. Still, I made a mental note of the pizza delivery shops in the area in case my attempt at dinner ended up as burnt as her pancakes.
When I finally pulled up to Frank’s security hut, the old man offered a toothy smile. “Well, hello there,” he said, pushing the button to open the gate. “I haven’t seen you in a while.”
“Yeah, long time. How’ve you been?”
Beaming with pride, Frank patted his chest. “My daughter had a baby last week.”
“Oh, wow,” I said, slightly surprised. It had never occurred to me to think about what Frank did outside of working in the gatehouse but I should’ve realized that he had a family. “Congratulations.”
“Thank you. I’m going to see her after work.”
“That’s great,” I said, slowly lifting my foot off the brake. “Maybe next time you’ll have a picture to show me.”
“Sure will.”
I waved to the elderly gatekeeper before driving forward, slightly afraid of finding out just how bad of a mood Sophie was in. I pulled into a spot in front of her house and then took several deep breaths before killing my car’s engine and gathering my things, though I left my spare clothes folded in the backseat; I'd come back out to get them later. The walk to Sophie's front door felt like an eternity with the bags of groceries weighing on my arms and I set them down on the porch before ringing her doorbell.
“Where’ve you been?” Sophie asked as the door swung open seconds later.
“I went to the store,” I replied, motioning towards the bags before bending to kiss her on the cheek. Although her brows were furrowed with annoyance, her lips betrayed a hint of a smile and I wondered if maybe she was in a better mood than I’d thought.
“What for?”
“I got some stuff to make dinner.”
The corners of Sophie’s mouth twitched again and now her grin was unmistakable. “You’re making dinner? Why?”
“Trying to impress you, I guess.”
“Well,” Sophie said, reaching for a bag, “considering my cooking skills, it might be hard for you to meet my standards.”
Sophie turned to walk down the hallway and as I closed the front door behind me, she called over her shoulder, “How was your day, anyway?”
“Uh,” I said, thinking about the slab of raw meat I’d tackled at lunch, “it was interesting. How about yours?”
“Annoying.” Sophie disappeared through the doorway that led into her kitchen and by the time I caught up with her, she’d already begun taking out the groceries and setting them on the countertop. “I need to talk to you about something.”
Here it comes. “Okay,” I said, bracing myself for the tirade that I’d been expecting from the start. “What’s up?”
Sophie opened her mouth to respond but then bit her lip. With a sigh, she said, “Actually, maybe we should eat first. What are you making?”
“Baked pasta with pesto chicken.” The expression on Sophie’s face was priceless and I bit my lip to stop myself from laughing while I moved to wash my hands. “What’s wrong? You eat meat, right?”
“Yeah, no, it’s nothing,” she said quickly, though she continued to stare at me.
“Are you sure?”
I caught a hint of disbelief in her voice when she said, “You don’t really seem like the cooking type, that’s all.”
“I mean, I’m not, but I’m also turning twenty-two in a few months. It’d be pretty sad if I didn’t know how to make anything.”
“Maybe,” Sophie admitted, folding her arms across her chest. “Richard can barely make toast.”
“And you know I’ve spent my entire life aspiring to be like him.” I dried my hands on a paper towel and then began searching through the cabinets for a cutting board and pans. As I laid out the ingredients in front of me, Sophie wrapped her arms around my waist and rested her forehead against my back.
“Can I help at all?” she asked, and I smiled while I enjoyed our closeness.
“Nah,” I said, reaching for a knife and feeling disappointed when she pulled away.
With a frown, Sophie said, “I feel like I should do something.”
“Why don’t you go lie down?” I suggested, slicing a clove of garlic in half. “I’ll come join you as soon as I’ve put everything in the oven.”
Sophie hesitated for a moment and then shrugged. “Whatever you say, Martin Stewart.”
I chuckled at that, amused by the play on words, and watched while she wandered off towards the living room. Moving the chopped garlic to the side, I hummed to myself while I prepped everything and imagined what it’d be like to have my own cooking show. Despite my previous skepticism, it seemed like Sophie had been telling the truth when she said that she knew how to cook; her kitchen was stocked with more types of pots and exotic spices than I’d even known existed. I cleaned as I went and once I’d finished combining everything into a casserole dish, I slid it into the oven and went to find Sophie.
Curled up on the couch, Sophie looked up from the magazine that she was reading when I walked into her living room. “What are you reading?” I asked as I crossed over to where she sat and sank down onto the cushion beside her.
“Do you know who Quintin Armada is?”
I nodded. “Sure. I’ve heard the name.”
Sophie licked her bottom lip and then folded the magazine over, flattening the crease. She tapped the glossy paper with her index finger. “He’s basically the current king of the fashion industry.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, for starters, he’s a genius. He launched his first clothing line when he was, like, twelve and ended up winning a bunch of awards before he even turned twenty.”
I shook my head, feeling woefully unaccomplished compared to the designer--and Sophie, for that matter. It was sort of strange to think about the fact they'd managed to achieve so much at such young ages. I scratched my chin while I thought about what I'd been doing at twelve; other than nursing my childhood crush on Sophie into adolescence and playing video games with Scott, I couldn’t think of anything even moderately memorable.
“How old is he now?” I asked, peering at the peacock-inspired dress on the page and wondering how anyone believed it was worth the two grand listed as its selling price.
“He’ll be thirty next month,” Sophie said, her gaze unwaveringly trained on the picture in front of her. “He’s launching a major new line to commemorate it.”
“Sounds kind of self-congratulatory to me.”
“Of course it is, but it’s also a pretty big deal. Most of the high-end department stores have already put in bids to carry it once it’s released.” Sophie cleared her throat and continued in a rush, “He asked Richard and me to promote it leading up to its launch this summer.”
“I know,” I said, leaning back and studying her. “Michael told me earlier.”
“Did he tell you about the other stuff, too? The stuff with Richard?”
“Yep.”
“Oh.” Sophie gently whacked the magazine against her knees while she mulled over the news. “And what do you think?”
I shrugged. “It sounds like a good opportunity.”
“Yeah, but…”
“Why are you even thinking twice about it if it’s such a big deal?”
“Because it’s not really fair to you,” Sophie replied, eyebrows furrowing, “and I don’t want to keep hiding our relationship from everyone.”
“Sophie, honestly, please don’t worry about me when you’re making career decisions.”
“Don’t be stupid.” Sophie tossed the magazine onto the coffee table in front of her and ruffled my hair. “What kind of girlfriend would I be if I didn’t think about how I’m affecting your life?”
“Yeah, and what kind of person would I be if I encouraged you to do anything other than take this job? Come on, don’t pretend like you don’t want to.”
“You don’t know what I want,” Sophie said, lifting her chin in defiance.
I knew she wanted me to believe her--and maybe she’d even managed to convince herself that what she was saying was true--but the fact of the matter was that I knew her and no matter what she said, I knew that she’d regret saying no. I put my arm around her shoulders and pulled her closer. “The fact you’re even considering turning this down makes me feel like I’m holding you back.”
“I mean, God, it’s not all about you,” Sophie protested. “It’s not like I want to be stuck hanging around Richard forever.”
“A couple of months are hardly forever.”
Sophie licked her lip and looked down at her lap, sliding off the rose gold and diamond band on her right index finger and moving it to the left. “I just don’t want you to get hurt.”
“Hurt how?”
“I don’t know,” Sophie said. She sucked in her cheeks until two dimples appeared beside her mouth and then continued, “Like, jealous or whatever.”
I thought of the runny nosed actor who'd sniffled throughout lunch and laughed. “That’s not going to happen,” I said once I’d regained control of myself.
Sophie frowned. “Why not?”
“Because it’s not. Trust me, Richard’s probably the last person on earth I’d ever be jealous of.”
“Really?” Eyebrows turned down, she looked slightly offended and squirmed out of my grasp.
What did she want me to say? “I’m more jealous of Vinny right now than I’ll ever be of Richard--guaranteed.”
“If you say so,” Sophie said, still sounding unconvinced. Under her breath, she added, “I mean, I’d probably be a little jealous about you spending day and night with one of your exes, but whatever.”
“I think I’d notice if you started spending nights with him,” I teased and Sophie turned the prettiest shade of pink that I’d ever seen.
“That’s not what I meant,” she muttered, swatting my leg with the back of her hand.
“I know what you meant,” I replied as I watched her blush fade. “I guess, like, yeah, Richard annoys me, don’t get me wrong--especially knowing what he did to you.” I swallowed, wondering if she’d already caught onto the fact that he was using again. “But I’m not… jealous of him, no. At least, not in the way that you're thinking."
“How is that even possible?” Sophie ran a hand through her hair. “If I were in your shoes, I’d be going completely insane.”
I studied her for a moment and decided that what she’d said was probably the truth. “I’m not jealous of him because I know you don’t like him.” I lifted my thumbnail to my mouth but stopped myself from biting it before Sophie noticed. “It’d be different if I thought something was still going on.”
Sophie’s ears seemed to perk up at that and she grinned at me. “Oh, is that why you’re jealous of Vinny?”
The image of the greasy haired DJ popped into my mind and I wondered for the hundredth time if it was a habit of Sophie’s to befriend the sleaziest guys that she could find. Then again, if that was true, what did that make me? “No,” I replied, struggling to keep my expression serious. “I’m jealous of the fact you have a giant picture of you kissing him next to your bed.”
“On the cheek!”
“Still,” I said, reaching for her hand and clasping it between both of mine. “Personally, Sophie, I think you should do this if you want to. The fact that Richard’s willing to go away quietly if you agree makes it even more of a win-win in my book.”
Sophie chewed on her lip and rested her head on my shoulder with a sigh. “I don’t know,” she said after awhile. “I need to think about it more, I guess.”
“Sure,” I agreed, kissing the top of her head. “No matter what, though, I’m cool with whatever decision you make… Just make it for yourself.”
Staring up at me with wide eyes, Sophie followed me as I got to my feet. “Where are you going?” she asked and I pointed towards the kitchen.
“Checking on dinner.”
Sophie looked like she was torn between throwing her arms around me and bursting into tears, though she settled for planting a long kiss on my mouth. “How did I end up with someone as nice as you?” she asked when we pulled apart.
Eyeing the fullness of her lips, I pinched her cheek gently and smiled. “Some people just have all the luck.”
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A/N: So, I realized I've written almost five chapters ahead (!) thanks to Camp NaNo so I might as well post, right? As always, lovelies, thanks for your support. <33 You guys are literally all the nicest.
Dedicated to @RosesAreHaughty because I love your comments. <33