Not even the blue heart emoji. Not even a “congrats” back. Just a thumbs up on her message like she was acknowledging a delivery confirmation. Like they hadn’t shared a kiss that Bryn was so sure meant something. A person like Vivian had boundary lines clear enough to see from the damn space station. It explained her hard out, but it also convinced Bryn that Vivian wouldn’t just kiss her for no reason.
Taking deep breaths, Bryn focused. This wasn’t about their personal connection. It was about the work. It would be weird if she didn’t say anything about the extremely prestigious award nom.
Bryn sat there, staring at Vivian’s initials as her contact photo because of course Vivian didn’t have some cute little selfie as her icon. Even that would reveal too much.
She opened the texts, was accosted by the tiny ego-eviscerating thumb pointing right into her orbital socket, and closed it again.
Bryn leaned back and stared at the ceiling. If only the textured popcorn had any words of wisdom.
It wasn’t just about having an excuse to talk to Vivian. Bryn wanted Vivian to care. She wanted Vivian to look at her again. Look at her like she had over their first dinner together. Look at her like she really saw her just before she kissed her.
Bryn groaned and buried her face in her hands. “Get a grip,” she begged herself and got up to get dressed.
* * *
By late morning, Bryn was sitting in her Plantamonium van waiting for a dozen hibiscus plants to be loaded in the back. She should’ve stayed in the office with her mom celebrating the nomination that felt like a win, but there she was with her phone in her hand.
Bryn pulled up her email drafts.
There it was. The email. The one she had started the week she got home from Vivian’s and then kept working on like it was her freaking diary. It had engorged over months into something horrifically long, alternating between “hope you’re well!” and “I think about your mouth” depending on what time of night she couldn’t sleep.
The subject line read:Hi Vivian
Real bold.
Bryn opened the draft and immediately wanted to crawl out of her skin.
Vivian, I hope you’re doing well. I wanted to thank you for?—
She groaned. Yeah, that was the way to Vivian’s heart. Professional politeness.
Bryn scrolled through a dozen abandoned drafts. There were versions of gratitude. Versions of honesty. A version where she confessed that she hadn’t stopped thinking about her. One particularly mortifying iteration where she asked Vivian on a date like a ninth-grader.
Bryn dropped her phone into the cupholder instead of flinging it out the window because she was a grown-up and no longer on her parents’ plan.
At a red light, Bryn unlocked her phone again because she couldn’t help herself. She abandoned the email and went back to her messages.
A text was breezy. A text was casual. A text was what colleagues did. A text didn’t imply that Bryn had spent months replaying a week of her life like it was a favorite song.
She typed and deleted every message. Too enthusiastic. Too exclamation-pointy. Too emoji-ridden. She tried again.
Bryn:I can’t believe we’re up for a Platinum Voice! Congrats, Vivian. Guess I’ll see you in NYC.
She stared at it and then added a little apple emoji. And then a microphone. And a book. Her thumb hovered over a winky face like she was deciding which wire to cut on a ticking bomb.
It was breezy. It was easy. It was Bryn, but not too Bryn. It didn’t sayI miss youor,your mouth ruined my life, orI make licorice tea and pretend I like it because it reminds me of you.
A horn honked behind her.
“Oh, it just turned green, buddy, calm your tits,” she groused before hitting send without talking herself out of it.
Off the message went, and Bryn immediately regretted the emojis. Vivian probably thought emojis were ridiculous. She heard Vivian’s voice, silky and smooth when she looked Bryn dead in the eye, chin up and expression nearly unreadable. “I do not communicate in cartoon.”
Bryn laughed to herself and then dropped her head against the steering wheel.
“I’m losing my mind.”
After making her last plant delivery, Bryn picked up three food orders that would carry her up to Gloria’s condo. It was after sunset when Bryn pulled into the retirement community’s guest parking lot. When she picked up her phone to see whether Vivian had found time to respond in the last seven hours. When she saw something worse than a yellow thumb.
