“Name five microinfluencers,” Lola countered, and Cleo gave a resigned laugh.
“Okay, fine,” she said. “You’re right.”
We ate in silence for a bit, people-watching. Finally, after popping open a can of wine and taking a few sips, I said the thing that was gnawing at me in the back of my brain.
“Let’s say I did have a thing for Hayes,” I said, and they both turned to face me as I chewed on a fingernail, nervous to put this out into the world.
“Mm-hmm?” Cleo said, eyebrows raised expectantly.
“Why would he even consider going out with me when he’s already dating her?” I said, awkwardly scrunching up my face in embarrassment. “I know, I know, I sound like I’m twelve. But she’s so…” What was the world I wanted to use? Beautiful? Accomplished? Flawless?
“Much?” Cleo volunteered.
“Yes!” I said. “It’s so hard to be around someone like that, who’s so much, when I’m always feeling like I’m not enough. And before you say anything”—I held up my hand—“I know that I am enough. I know that I am beautiful, and smart, and talented, and a reasonably good cook, and all the other nice things you’re going to tell me. But you know what I mean. Sometimes you can’t help but compare yourself to someone like that.”
“What’s that quote? ‘Comparison is the thief of joy’？” Lola squinted in thought.
“Something like that,” I said. “And it’s true! It’s so dumb. But I can’t help it.”
Cleo patted my thigh affectionately. “It’s totally normal to think this way, but try to remember she’s probably comparing herself to you too.”
I rolled my eyes at this, which only made Cleo annoyed. “I’m serious, Fran!”
I pointed at my hair, which was frizzing wildly in the humidity. “Oh, really? You think she’s jealous of this mess on my head?”
Cleo laughed and then built herself a little cracker sandwich with cheese and salami. “You’re all the things you said you are, and a lot more.”
“One hundred percent agree,” Lola said, as if there were no other answer. “And if you’re feeling like you have a thing for Hayes, I bet you he’s also feeling a thing for you. It’s not like he’s exclusive with her.”
She tossed a grape in her mouth. “I dig around for dirt from Perrine sometimes,” she said with a coy smile before I could question her about how she knew such a thing.
“If he was at all was interested in me, why did he sign an email to me with ‘Best’？” I posed to them.
“Everyone knows that ‘Best’ is the sign-off you use when you don’t want the person you’re into to know that you’re into them,” Lola replied, like it was obvious. “Especially someone you’re working with.”
Cleo laughed at this. “Oh my god, you’re so right. Whenever I want to make out with someone, I always make sure my emails are superformal, so it seems like I don’t.”
“How often does this happen to you?” I asked her, truly curious.
“I don’t know, I’ve met a lot of hot lawyers!” she said defensively.
“If he signed his email ‘Best,’” Lola said confidently, “what he means is ‘I can’t stop thinking about putting my mouth all over you.’”
“Especially between your legs,” Cleo added, and Lola snorted.
I covered my face with my hands and laughed. “Okay,” I said as I balled my fingers into fists and pressed them to my chin. “Then what does it say that I sent an email today and signed it ‘Can’t wait to talk soon!’”
“Oh, girl,” Lola said with a shake of her head. “It means you’ve got it bad.”
Chapter Sixteen
Hayes
The next day, at the office, I tossed my giant binder outlining our launch party on Eleanor’s desk.
“Well, look at you,” she said, lowering her glasses to gaze at me approvingly. Taking a sip from a glass of ginger ale, she opened the cover, her eyes skimming the first page.
“Tyler did most of it—let’s be honest.” I slid into my chair, flipping open my laptop. “That famous DJ they’re friends with agreed to spin for a couple hours for half their normal rate. Tyler knows everyone.”
“The guy who has the residency in Stockholm?” Eleanor asked, legitimately wowed.
“That’s the one,” I said with a nod.