She laughed and gave him a quick once-over. He’d gone for his standard uniform of a T-shirt—green this time—and well-fitting jeans for this visit, and was looking like all her best fantasies of him. “Yes, Hill, you’re ancient. You’re what? Thirty?”
“Thirty-one,” he said, “but in spirit, I feel ancient compared to these people—to you. I can’t imagine flying by the seat of my pants with my job. That seems terrifying.”
“Oh, it is,” she said with a humorless laugh. “I pretty much live with the daily fear that it will all crumble beneath me at any time. As my landlord, you didn’t hear that.”
His lips tipped up. “Of course not.”
“But when I think of doing something else? Some nine-to-five thing that I don’t feel passionate about? I just… I’d rather eat ramen and wait tables until I got on my feet again if what I’m doing now stops working.” She pushed the button for the elevator. “I grew up in a family where money was basically everything. My parents have a lot of it, but it’s never enough. They always want more. Status is everything. Appearances are more important than reality. I want no part of that.”
He glanced her way. “What do they think of what you do?”
She rolled her eyes as the elevator doors opened, and they both stepped inside. She pressed the button for the second floor. “They tell people I’m studying literature at Tulane.”
“What?” He leaned back, grabbing the rail on the wall behind him, and flexed his knee as if loosening it up. “You’re a published author.”
“Of utter trash, Hill,” she said patiently, using her mother’s heavy Georgia accent. “Not of respectable books an educated young woman should be writing. There’s violence and blood and sex, oh my. Things a proper young lady shouldn’t speak of, much less put in print. What did we send her to college for anyway? What a waste.”
He grimaced. “That’s messed up.”
The doors opened on to the second floor, the blast of air-conditioning hitting them in the face. “Yeah, I know, but I’ll never convince them they’re wrong. They think I write what I write because of what happened to me—an incident they’d like to pretend never occurred—so it’s a constant reminder. Thanksgiving is fun. We get to play pretend.”
He frowned as he followed her out. “I’m sorry.”
“Thanks. It’s okay. I’m used to it. I can’t live up to their expectations, and they can’t live up to mine.” She shrugged. “We’re at an impasse.”
“Well, for what it’s worth, I think you’re a badass,” he said, falling into step beside her. “I finished your book this afternoon. I never saw the twist at the end coming. You’re really talented.”
The compliment pleased her more than she would’ve expected, warming her from the inside out. She stopped in the hallway and turned to him, hand on hip. “You sure you’re not saying that just because you want to make out with me?”
He leaned down as if he were going to whisper a secret to her. “I’m saying it because it’s true. And I also want to make out with you. Those two truths can exist together, you know.”
“Oh.” A hot shiver went through her. “Well, thank you. On both.”
“You’re welcome.”
She took his hand. “Come on. I want to show you something.”
“Your office?”
“Later. First, I have a little surprise,” she said, sending him a cryptic smile as they began walking again.
His expression shifted into one of concern. “Now I’m worried.”
She laughed. “Don’t be. Trust me. This won’t hurt a bit.”
She led him down the hallway, stopping at Hollyn’s door. She knocked, and she could see her friend wave her in through the narrow window next to the door. Andi opened the door and tugged Hill in with her.
Hollyn smiled, her gaze jumping briefly to Hill and then back to Andi. “Hey.”
“Hey,” Andi said cheerfully. “I wanted to introduce you to my friend, Hill. He’s the neighbor I was telling you about.” She released Hill’s hand. “Hill, this is Hollyn. She’s a local entertainment writer and podcaster. You may know her as Miz Poppy.”
Hill’s brows lifted. “Miz Poppy. I used to read your posts on the NOLA Vibe. They were great.” He stepped forward and put out his hand. “Nice to meet you.”
Hollyn’s facial tics went through a little dance, but she maintained her smile and shook Hill’s hand. “Thanks. Nice to meet you, too.”
A bolt of pride went through Andi, seeing her friend so much more at ease than when she’d first met her. Hollyn had done a lot of hard work to manage her social anxiety, and it was goddamned inspiring. If her friend could make that much progress, surely Andi could figure out how to take some steps of her own. “So,” she said, catching Hollyn’s eye, “everything arrived okay?”
Hollyn sat back down and nodded. “Yep. All arrived as planned. You should be good to go.”
Andi leaned down and gave Hollyn a little side hug, being careful not to spill her Topo Chico. “Thanks, lady. You’re the best.”
Hill looked between the two of him, clearly growing suspicious. “What was planned?”
Andi popped up. “Welp. I think we better get out of here and let Hollyn get back to work so she can get home.”
Hill sent Hollyn a look. “Should I be scared?”
Hollyn’s nose scrunched. “With Andi, you should always be a little bit scared. But in a good way. Like a roller coaster.”
Andi laughed. “She’s not wrong.” She grabbed Hill’s hand again, liking that she could do so without overthinking it. “Thanks again, Holls.”
“Have fun,” she said as Andi and Hill walked out.
Hill went willingly, but a few steps down the hallway he asked, “Are you going to tell me what’s up?”
“Better to show you.” She turned a corner and went down a hallway she rarely had reason to travel. The double doors on the right had a clipboard hanging outside of them with the printout of who had reserved that room for which times.
When she stopped in front of it, Hill turned with her and read the label above the door. “The Test Kitchen.”
Andi bit her lip and turned to him, hoping he would be happy instead of frustrated by the surprise. “So, I know I said I was going to order takeout, but I may have asked Hollyn to book the test kitchen for us tonight, and I may have had some groceries delivered.”