“Sure,” he says. “No problem. See you soon?”
I kiss him on the other cheek. “So soon!” I holler over my shoulder as I run to the building.
In my head, I was supposed to arrive at the studio early that morning, clean the place up, and figure out what the hell I would say to Ariana Heti. On top of the fact that I love her work in 3D animation, she basically holds my career in her hands right now.
“Matty,” she greets me as I rush in and notice the coffee spilled down my shirt. “I see you made it.”
Ariana has a short bob and a pair of glasses like an architect would wear. Something about her intense, meticulous focus makes her powerful and intimidating, like no detail will ever get by her.
“I’m so sorry to keep you waiting,” I say, then gesture to the mess that is my shooting platform. The purse is hanging with the dog in it, surrounded by half-finished trashcan props and a few alley cat heads. “Have you had a look around?”
She barely arches an eyebrow, just enough to make my heart jump.
Running around with a fake boyfriend is not a good excuse to neglect my art and career.
“I did,” she answers. “But I assume you have much more accomplished than what I see here? I’d like to view your footage.”
My heart jumps again.
Fuck me.
“I’m so sorry,” I say. “My laptop and my hard drive are both at home.” My brain races, searching for an excuse. “It’s why I was late.”
This time, as she leans back on the work desk, her eyebrow goes all the way up. “Because you were depositing your laptop at your home before our meeting?”
I wince. I’m no good at lying, so I try the other route: full, humiliating debasement.
“I’m so sorry. This is really embarrassing. I want to hear your opinion about my work, and I’m blowing it.” I rub my forehead, frustrated with myself. “I’m not always this much of a mess, I swear,” I add.
Okay, maybe that last part is a little bit of a lie.
Ariana sighs. “I know you’re not always a mess, Matty, because I see your work, and I like it.”
My breath catches. “You do? But you’re, like, in charge of a whole different department.”
“And you have a refined sense of movement and a unique style. That’s rare, Matty, and the fellowship wants to nourish talent like yours when we find it. However, if you can’t organize yourself and take your own work seriously—”
“I can!” I say quickly, bouncing up on my toes. “I promise I can.”
She nods curtly. “Two weeks,” she says. “Email my assistant to set a time. You won’t get another second chance.”
Ariana breezes past me, and I’m left alone with my half-finished work. I’m exhausted and overwhelmed from the last twenty-four hours, and I want nothing more than to sleep the afternoon away.
Instead, though, I gulp from my coffee and turn to the collection of half-finished figures and props.
It’s time to get to work.
* * *
When I return home at the end of the day, Milo’s car is parked on the street.
It’s not unusual for him to be at the apartment. Ayla has him over as often as I do. But instead of the usual elation, I crash into anxiety instead.
I’m tired and gross and ready for bed. And worse than that, seeing Milo sends my brain straight back to thinking about Stone.
“Matty!” Milo says brightly when I walk through the door. He’s sitting on the couch with his legs crossed under him. He’s got on his pink jeans, which he found at a thrift one day when we were shopping together, and I notice that he’s got a little purple eyeshadow on to match. “Wondered when you’d get back.”
Instantly, my anxiety softens. Milo’s smile is so quick and easy; it’s like the whole world falls into place.
