“Some hobbies aren’t meant to be careers. Some things like eating and shelter take precedent.” I took another sip of my espresso and mumbled, “not that you would understand.”
“You seriously think I didn’t struggle? That I came from money?” He laughed harshly. “Fuck me, that’s the funniest thing I’ve ever heard.”
“Okay, fine. You made your dream come true. That doesn’t happen for ninety-nine percent of us.”
He sobered immediately. Judging by that glint in his eye, I’d pissed him off. “I made my dream come true because I scrabbled, I scraped, I slept on couches and worked shitty day jobs so I could play in bars at night. I got by on minutes of sleep some days. Don’t tell me that I don’t know about the sacrifices it takes.”
“I…” I swallowed as shame all but engulfed me. “I’m sorry. I don’t know much about your band or your story. I shouldn’t have assumed.”
He nodded stiffly. “Okay.” He took another gulp from his latte then walked over to grab his boxer briefs tangled up in his black pants from the night before. “I should get back to my place.”
“Um, okay.” This felt weird. Like our first fight or something. But I’d only met him two days ago. It was too soon to feel this deeply for someone.
Right?
He dressed in silence then grabbed his cup and drained the contents. After setting the cup on the desk, he turned to me and gave me a quick up and down. “I guess I’ll see you around.”
Dread pooled in my stomach. I hated this. I couldn’t let him walk away.
“Mal, wait. I don’t want to leave things like this with us.”
He stopped halfway to the door but didn’t say anything or turn around.
I wanted to make things right, but I didn’t know what to say, really. After setting my cup down on a nearby table, I twisted my fingers together, searching for the right thing to say. Finally, I opened my mouth and words just fell out. “I’m used to people telling me what a pipedream being a designer is. I don’t know how to handle someone urging me to chase my dreams. I mean, even my best friend tried to talk me out of taking design classes at college. Said it was pointless. Mybestfriend. Coming from her of all people, that mademefeel pointless.”
He stared down at the floor for a second before nodding. “I get it.”
I stood there, unconsciously swaying toward him. I didn’t know why I felt this pull. I wanted to touch him, feel his arms around me. Almost like being in his orbit made me feel better.
But it was way too soon to have thoughts like that. And weird.
“Anyway.” I shook my head. “Yeah, so I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have assumed anything about you. I’m not like that. I don’t do that. Usually.” I winced.
Then I blinked, and Mal was standing in front of me. His hand came up and he hesitated like he wasn’t sure if it was okay to touch me.
I took a step toward him and his hand cupped my cheek. His smile was pained as he stared down at me.
“I’m sorry too. I guess people assuming I’m a rich asshole is a sore spot for me too. I definitely didn’t like knowing you thought I was that guy.”
“I don’t.” Taking another step toward him, I wrapped my arms around him and burrowed into his chest. His skin was smooth and warm against my cheek. “I just…it feels dangerous to let myself dream like that. I’m so close to saying fuck it and chasing it. I mean, I’m not marrying Trent anymore. I hated my student-teaching experience. But I’ve done all the classes, I have the degree, all that’s left is a few tests, but I really don’t want to…and I don’t think I’ve ever said that out loud before. I don’t want to be a teacher.”
“Fuck yeah.” Mal’s arms squeezed me before he pulled back slightly to grin down at me.
I laughed nervously. “That feels so liberating to say.”
“I’m fucking proud of you, baby girl. You should chase your dream. What are your twenties about if not going all in on yourself?”
“You’d know since you’ve already done it.”
He winced. “Yeah. Thanks for that. I love being reminded of what an old fart I am.”
“You’re not old, you’re…vintage.”
“Oomph.” He stepped back and clutched at his chest in feigned pain. “I felt that one right in the feels.”
“What? It’s not an insult. It’s what they call old wine, right?”
“Fuck me.” He laughed and laughed, all while I stood there with a silly grin on my face, confused by what he found so funny.
