Chapter 1
#CaffeinateAndConquer
“Have I ever told you you’re a coffeeholic?” In spite of the dig, there’s something teasing in Amelia’s voice on the other end of the phone.
I glance down at myself as I muscle my way out of the airport Starbucks, a Caffè Misto in one hand and a crumpled up boarding pass in the other. I never look my best after being on an airplane, and today is no different. A shower is in order, along with a fresh face of makeup, but neither of those things are going to happen until I get to the hotel. Until then, this sugar infusion will be the only thing keeping me feeling like a human being. “News flash, Amelia,” I reply, my tone serious, “coffee is a beverage that puts one to sleep if not drank.”
“You get off a five-hour flight, and the first place you go is Starbucks,” she fires back, laughing. “I hate to be the one to tell you this, Chelsea, but I think you may have a problem.”
“It could be worse.” I tuck the phone between my ear and shoulder as I let the crowd sweep me toward baggage claim, tossing the boarding pass in a nearby trashcan as I go. “I could be on drugs. Do you know how many influencers are on drugs? I mean, shit, I’m a success story. You should be singing my praises.”
“Sure, sure. Just get your butt in a cab, and get over here. We’ve got all of New York City to take on, and only a few days to do it.”
Last time Amelia and I hung out together was in Greece. We’d filled our feeds with Greece’s sunsets, and the crumbling ruins of the Acropolis of Athens. By the way, in Santorini, the massive amount of character that spew from the blue, wooden doors in the alleyways is remarkable. The list goes on, and we captured it all. Unfortunately, that left us little time for fun. That’s all about to change.
Because New York, here I come baby!
Come on, we all know there’s no greater city in the world.
My camera’s ready. I’ve set my sights on all of the iconic places I’ve come to know and love including Central Park, The Brooklyn Bridge and the Flat Iron building for starters. On top of that, I get to see my BFF, Sage.
“I’ll be there in two shakes,” I tell Amelia, “just have to get my suitcase.”
“Good. I’ll be waiting in the lobby. By the way, Cadence Hotel. The place is so…fuddy duddy.”
She’s not lying. The hotel is upper crust all the way. “Gramps owns a condo there. It’s easy to just stay across from Central Park.”
“Makes sense. Well, hopefully you won’t hit the crazy Manhattan traffic. We’ve got a timetable for getting sloshed, and I don’t want to hear any excuses this time.”
“Cross my heart,” I reply, grinning. “See you in a bit.”
I throw my phone in my bag. The walk to baggage claim is a long one, and I wish—not for the first time—that I had gone with the flats instead of the heels. What was I even thinking? That’s an easy one. I wasn’t. I was in a caffeine-and-sleep-deprived fugue state, and as such I can’t be held responsible for any of my bad decisions, fashion-related or otherwise.
“Chels!” I hear the scream before I can really catalogue anything else, and I look up, surprised to see that I’ve actually walked right out of the gate area, through another hallway, and somehow managed to follow the signs for baggage claim without even realizing I was doing it. Which means that non-flyers are allowed. Which means that Sage is there to meet me.
And currently sprinting at me with all the power in her long, willowy legs. And then she’s hitting me with every ounce of her body, all hundred and fifteen pounds of her flying into my arms. I stagger back, but manage to catch and hold her. Because I’ll catch her no matter how hard she hits me, and I’ll do it until the day I die. Best friends are like that.
“What are you doing here?” I ask once we settle down a bit. Sage is my polar opposite in practically every sense: milk chocolate complexion to my pale skin, black pixie cut as opposed to my long, red tresses, lithe model figure in comparison to my curves, and she’s a walking cynic to my perpetual optimism. That’s where our differences end. We know all about each other, and the love is still strong as fuck. “Aren’t you supposed to be working?”
Don’t get me wrong, I’m beyond the moon excited to see my bestie, but due to her work schedule, we made plans to meet for drinks later tonight.
“I grabbed an early lunch to meet you here for a quick hello,” Sage explains. “I’ll catch an uber back in a couple.”
Well damn if my heart doesn't squeeze a little. “Don’t make me cry in the middle of the airport.”
“You’re my other half.” Sage pokes me with her elbow. “And you’re in New York.” The excitement in her voice is contagious, and I can’t help the smile spreading on my face.
“Eli is your other half.”
“Only for sex,” she responds.
“Well, it better be great fucking sex.”
She laughs. “Most def!”
The carousel starts to move, and it’s not long before I see my trusty Louis Vuitton suitcase being spewed out. A little ostentatious, maybe, but the flashiness makes it easy to identify. And before you ask, no, I didn’t buy it for myself. It was a gift from an ex, if you must know. And even though the relationship was dead in the water after six weeks, I’m sure as hell not going to let anything designer go to waste. It’s good for the brand, even if I do generally prefer to spend my money on travel; there’s a strategy to these things.
“You and Eli even said the three little words to each other,” I say to my friend as I grab my suitcase.
“Oh yeah. I do love him.”
“And he loves you.”
We move away from the crowd still hunting for their luggage but make no attempt to walk out of the airport yet. Yeah, we talk on the phone practically every night and share about a million texts in between those conversations. But there’s just something about seeing someone in person, don’t you think?
Phone calls are always just a little bit stilted and uncomfortable—unless you’re drunk, of course—and texts never give you the right range of emotion. Get your best friend since you were six in person, though, and it all comes bubbling right out.
Hell, with Sage, you can’t sit next to her without actually feeling how she’s feeling. The girl is that emotive.
“Chels,” Sage starts, her tone surprisingly serious. “There’s something you should know.”
My stomach clenches. Heck, whatever she’s going through, I’m glad I’m in the city. We’ll face it together. “What did Eli do? We can make him disappear. I know people.”
She laughs. “It’s not about Eli and we’re fine.” She pauses. “It’s about Griffin—”
“Oh no,” I interrupt as I toss my empty Starbucks cup in a nearby trash can. “We’re not talking about the guy I almost hooked up with in Vegas.”
The guy who flirted with me non-stop and then kissed me so passionately that my knees actually gave right out at a bar in that crazy loud city. The guy I promptly dumped because he insulted me in the ten minutes that followed that kiss.