THIRTY

Lexie

I had been successful in avoiding Ryder's gaze for the previous two weeks. After avoiding him so carefully at the office, I couldn't believe that I'd ended up walking right up to him at the sandwich shop after all of my careful maneuvering. I went there because it was the least expensive option within walking distance, which was the main reason I went there. After observing that his preferred lunch spot had side salads that cost twenty-five dollars each, I thought there was no way he'd be there for lunch. It's just my luck, but I was completely off.

As I made my way back to the office, my heart was pounding like a jackhammer. It didn't calm down much until I was no longer in his line of sight. I know it sounds crazy, but I'm pretty sure I felt him looking at the back of my head the whole time. It gave me a crazed sort of desire that I had never experienced before, which made me feel both self-conscious and lightheaded.

I repeatedly tried to convince myself that it was absurd and that I could not continue to think about Ryder in that manner. I just couldn't. But throughout the day, regardless of what I was doing or where I was going, I couldn't help but think about him. And, as expected, Samantha gave me a call while I was on my way home. I gave her the abridged version of what was going on with my unrevealed crush on a mysterious person.

She let out a loud sigh as she expelled her breath.

"Did you forget everything I taught you, Lexie?"

I racked my brain in an effort to come up with some pearls of wisdom that could possibly be relevant to her desire to climb on top of her father. When nothing else occurred to me, I finally responded, "I believe that to be the case."

"If you want to get over someone — even if it's someone you never actually got under — you have to find someone else to get under! Find yourself a new love interest. Ideally, someone who doesn't drive you crazy or make you feel crazy. Someone nice. You used to appreciate them in this manner.

I prompted her memory by saying, "And you told me they were boring."

"They were!" she exclaimed with a laugh. "But boring beats jerk."

I recalled how Ryder had mentioned my grade point average to Julian in a tone that seemed oddly defensive, almost as if he were defending me. I responded by saying, "He is not nice at all."

She uttered a blasé "hmm" in response. If you want me to support this crush, you're going to have to show me that you're capable of doing better than that.

I clenched my teeth. "There's no such thing as a crush, Samantha. It's just...I can't really explain it. Insanity that is only temporary."

A promise from me that I would go out this weekend was one of the conditions she insisted upon before hanging up the phone. She threatened to call up her old high school friends in order to drag me out to a club, but I told her that I had a friend from work that I could ask instead. Even though Victoria wasn't exactly a friend of mine, I couldn't help but think about her because she was on my mind. Even though the only thing we had in common was the fact that we were both misfits in the Brand Development department, we decided to get a drink together after work anyway. It wasn't even a question of whether or not we would be invited to the team happy hour.

The next day, when I asked Victoria if she would like to grab a drink after work on Friday, she appeared to be taken aback by my question. I made a conscious effort not to roll my eyes when hers unconsciously went to Angelina Bangert, the leader of the team as well as the social group's queen bee. Angelina was sitting at her desk in her office with her back perfectly erect and her fingers flying across the keyboard. She was nodding her head, and we could see the movement of her cherry red lips.

We were unable to determine whether she was mouthing along with what she was typing or if she was speaking to someone on the phone.

Slowly, Victoria responded, "I guess that so," as her eyes slowly returned to mine. However, Friday is not a day that most people choose to engage in activities.

I was aware of what she was referring to, and it caused me to want to roll my eyes once more. If you were looking to make a name for yourself in the Los Angeles scene, the best time to meet interesting people was during the week rather than on the weekends. And it seemed as though everyone who entered this office desired to make their way into the action.

I was surprised by how generously I expressed my assumption that you would be busy earlier in the week and said, "I figured you'd be busy." It sounds like I'm really struggling to find a way out of here.

My assumption that Victoria was very busy on the week's busiest evenings brought a smile to her face, and she expressed her gratitude to me for making that assumption. She responded with, "I suppose I could." "In which direction do you wish to travel?"

I had no idea where we were supposed to go, and I made that clear to everyone. Victoria let out a long and loud sigh. “Of course you don’t. Let me check in with some of my friends to see what's going on on Friday. If there is something interesting going on."

I had a feeling of mild alarm. I didn't want to go anywhere because there was something going on. I thought we'd go to a nearby bar or restaurant for happy hour, where I might meet a nice guy to take my mind off Ryder. But on Wednesday, Victoria said, "I've thought of what we can do on Friday. WEHO has a job opening. There should be people."

The way she stressed the word "people" told me that she wasn't just talking about anyone. I flinched inside. I didn't want to meet people. "Where is WEHO?" I asked.

"Haha," said Victoria with a wry smile. "Make sure you look nice on Friday, all right?"

When I called Samantha later, I learned that WEHO stood for "West Hollywood."

"That's stupid," I said, feeling embarrassed as a prickle ran down the back of my neck.

“Is it?” Samantha cracked up. "I never gave it a thought. It's like New York's SOHO or TriBeCa. Its meaning is clear to everyone."

Neither of those things made sense to me. I told her, "I'm from Ohio. And we say the names in full. Not hard at all. Dayton. Columbus. Yellow Spring."

Samantha said in a nice way, "Very good."

"Thank you." I didn't pay attention to the condescending tone in her voice. Instead, I scowled into my closet.

"I don't know what to put on."

So that Samantha could see what was in my closet, we switched to FaceTime. When she agreed that there was nothing that would work, she told me to go get some of her clothes from the closet in the guest room.

I tried on different clothes and said, "These are too small." I was trying to find something that didn't feel like I was painting it on. I frowned as I looked at the phone I had put on the nightstand.

Samantha said, "They're not too small," but her voice sounded small and far away. She took her eyes off the paper she was writing and looked up.

"That's a good one. Put that on."

I looked at myself again in the mirror. So far, it was the best choice. It was a black dress with thin straps that looked simple when it was hung up. However, as it slid down my body, the thin, rich fabric showed off my curves and made my blonde hair stand out. It made my chest look bigger and my waist look smaller. I still didn't look anything like the models I saw everywhere, but I didn't look bad either. I pulled on the rounded neckline.

Samantha yelled, "Stop it."

I took my hands off of her and fought the urge to pull the hemline down. "Isn't it a little short?"

"It's brief, but not too brief. And next to some of the girls there, you'll look like a nun, trust me."

Samantha was once again looking down, and I could tell she wasn't paying attention to me. I then heard someone say to her, "Are you ready for dinner?"

I felt a sharp pain. I missed meeting up with my friends for dinner. There were times when we all came into the dining hall at once and pushed tables together. It was sometimes just two or three. It was better than having dinner alone every night on Samantha's pink couch. And it was a million times better than forcing myself to go out with a girl I wasn't sure I liked and who I definitely didn't trust.

Samantha said, "I have to go," and then she slammed the lid of her laptop shut. "Put on heels and a lot of eye makeup. It's just right. You'll look like a rock star when you're not working."

On Friday, after work, Victoria and I went home together. When she found out where I lived, she looked at me with more respect and interest. "They must have a lot of money."

I lied and said, "It belongs to a friend."

It took me almost a week to feel at home in the apartment of my best friend. Victoria immediately made herself at home. She walked through each room, ran her hands over the furniture, and even opened my closet.

She raised an eyebrow and looked from what was in it to the black dress I had hanging on the back of the door.

"One of these is not the same as the other," she said, lightly tapping the dress with a long, black stiletto nail.

I already knew what she meant, so I didn't ask her to explain. She did it anyway because she decided to do it.

"This is so cool. "Perhaps even off the tarmac." Victoria almost whimpered when she spoke. She looked at the dress as if she wanted me to leave her and the dress alone. Then her eyes got narrow as she looked at the clothes in the closet. "So, Mossimo, this is like."

I couldn't say anything else. I bought a lot of my clothes at Target. Instead, I gave her a strange shrug and wondered again if I'd made a big mistake by making plans with her.

I told myself, "Means to an end." I'd find a nice guy to take my mind off Ryder tonight, and then Victoria and I could go back to ignoring each other at work until I moved on from Brand Development. God, I couldn't wait any longer.

Victoria ended up in the kitchen, where she opened the fridge. She looked right at one of the expensive-looking bottles of white wine. She took it out without being asked and dug around in the drawers until she found the wine opener and wine glasses.

"All right," she said in a happy tone. "Your taste is... different, but I can deal with it."

I decided it wasn't the right time to tell her I usually drank Barefoot wine. I took the glass she offered me, and then she and I went to different bathrooms to get ready. The eye makeup Samantha suggested was hard to put on because of my nerves, but finishing my first glass of wine helped. I went outside and poured myself a second glass, then took the bottle to the other bathroom to fill up Victoria's glass. She was struggling to get into a tight-fitting red dress. I tried to find a zipper, but I couldn't. I put the bottle down and helped her unroll the bottom of the dress, which was wrapped around her ribs in a tight band.

"Thanks," Victoria said out of breath as she pulled it down the last bit. It was longer than mine and almost reached her knees, but it was so tight that I could see her belly button, her ribs, and the thin line of her underwear. She frowned when she saw it, and before I knew it, she was out of them.

"That's better," she said, giving a firm nod to her reflection.

"Are you positive you can walk in it?" I asked with doubt.

"I can do it if Kim can." Victoria threw her long, dark hair back with a strong motion. She didn't seem like she was going out to have fun. She was more likely going into battle. I was about to say that those of us who are going to die salute you. I sucked back the words and went back to the bathroom to get ready. Now that I was more sure of myself, I was more eager to get into my makeup bag. I didn't know if it was the wine or the thought that no matter how much eyeliner I used, I could never look as crazy as Victoria. When I was done, it was hard to tell who I was. I didn't know if I looked hot and seductive or just plain stupid, but it was too late to go back.

Samantha's black heels were too high, so I put on a pair of mine and went into the living room, where Victoria was opening a second bottle of wine.

When I saw her, she said, "Hope that's okay." She didn't sound like she cared one way or the other. "You look..." She looked at me from head to toe and said, "You look..." When she saw my shoes, she asked in a condescending tone, "Are those Mix No. 6?"

I took a quick look at them. "I'm not certain. I got them from DSW.”

"Of course you did." After popping the cork, Victoria served us each a hearty helping of wine in our large glasses.

"Would you agree that the dress looks great?"

Strangely enough, her demeanor did nothing but boost my self-assurance. She was dressed in heeled sandals with gladiator-style straps that wound their way all the way up her calves to just below her knees. At that point, she had tied them off so tightly that they left white indentations in her skin, and her calves bulged between the straps, giving the appearance that they were quilted. The actual straps of the shoes were covered in small silver studs, giving the appearance that the shoes should be regulated as weapons due to their appearance. When I looked at the back of the heel, there was a row of studs that matched each other, and they made me think of a brontosaurus. She had applied foundation that was two shades lighter than her natural skin tone all over her face. What was even stranger was that she had smeared the foundation over her eyebrows, making it appear as though she did not have any eyebrows.

I didn't care what she thought about my appearance; if she didn't think I was attractive, that was fine by me.

When we arrived at the opening of what seemed to be a club but turned out to be a restaurant for this very special opening evening, I didn't even feel self-conscious at all.

Whoever looked at us would look right past me and concentrate their attention on her. That would give me the opportunity to look at the available men in complete peace. Although I didn't hold out much hope of finding a nice, normal guy in this crowd, stranger things have happened, so you never know.

And there were additional benefits to being with Victoria. It appeared that she was aware of everything that should be done and where one should go. She guided us swiftly through the line, ushered us up to the bar in a matter of minutes, and even succeeded in securing one of the intimate cocktail tables for us.

In spite of the fact that she was considered an outcast at work, she appeared to know people in this area, and before long, she had gathered a group of people around us. It didn't take me long to get the sense that these weren't the types of people I would automatically consider becoming friends with. They all appeared to share Victoria's way of thinking, which was noticeable. Even while they were talking to you, they continued to look away from you in order to focus on someone they found more interesting. The fact that I, like Victoria, worked at The Walker Agency was the only reason they bothered to talk to me at all.

As soon as I got there, I realized that working there served as a form of currency in this world. Because of it, I was relegated to the least important rung. If they found out that I was friends with Samantha Walker, I had a feeling that they'd let me pass the halfway mark in a single bound. I was aware in my gut that I would never reveal the secret to them. I did not want these peculiar and stunning social vampires to believe that I possessed anything that they desired.

It didn't matter to me for a while that I wasn't particularly fond of the person I was with. Simply being outside was enough of a change for him. After that, I approached it as if it were a fascinating anthropological study, during which I had the opportunity to observe the mannerisms of social climbing society up close and personally. When even that became tedious, I started looking for the man that I had traveled all this way to see. Someone pleasant who was also not convinced by this. I noticed a few opportunities, but either they were linked to a specific individual or something essential was missing from them. I wasn't quite sure how to put my finger on what it was.

After this had gone on for two hours, my feet started to hurt, and I was already two drinks in over my head. I wasn't exactly intoxicated, but neither was I completely sober either. I detested having that sensation.

I announced to Victoria that I was going to get some water. She cast a perplexed glance in my direction before returning her attention to the conversation she was having with another of the girls. Her mouth was still moving at a breakneck speed. I slipped away without bothering to repeat what I had just said.

Even though the alcohol was working its magic in my system, I couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong. I had no interest in attending this posh opening with all of these intriguing guests. I yearned to be in the familiar company of my sorority sisters in our old chapter house. And I didn't want to be in the position of having to search for nice boys like the ones I'd had success with in Ohio.

I desired Ryder.

The alcohol caused the tight grip that my brain had placed on the thought to relax, and it popped open so quickly that I did not have the opportunity to stuff it back down. I didn't care if he was Samantha's father or the man in charge of my company; I wanted him. The desire existed in a realm that was wholly distinct from reason, logic, and actuality.

After that, he materialized seemingly out of thin air.