“I mean, come on,” Naomi said between sips. “You’ve been wound tighter than a drum for weeks. Maybe your brain’s just suggesting a… healthier outlet.”
“By giving me that dream?”
“Your subconscious has taste,” she said with a shrug. “At least it didn’t pick someone boring.”
I opened my mouth to argue — to say something about professionalism or boundaries or the sheer impossibility of it all — but then my phone buzzed on the table, cutting through the last of our laughter. The screen lit up, and the second I saw the name, my stomach did that small, familiar twist.
Kyle.
I took a breath and answered, forcing brightness into my voice. “Hey, you.”
There was background noise—voices, silverware, the clink of a glass. He sounded distracted before he even spoke. “Hey, babe. Listen, I’m so sorry, but I’ve got another sponsor dinner tonight. The GM wants me there to schmooze. Maybe tomorrow?”
Of course he did. I could picture him perfectly: smiling politely, one hand on the back of a chair, already half-focused on his next opportunity. I swallowed the ache and made my voice sound steady. “Yeah, sure. Tomorrow works.”
He exhaled with relief. “You’re the best. I’ll call you after, okay?”
“Of course,” I said, even though we both knew he probably wouldn’t.
When the line went dead, I just stared at the phone a moment longer, the reflection of my own face warped in the black glass. My coffee had gone cold. Across from me, Naomi was watching with that look—the one that saw too much.
“He canceled again, didn’t he?”
I tried for a shrug, keeping my voice light. “He’s busy.”
Naomi’s brow lifted. “So are you.”
“It’s different.”
“Because he’s got cleats and a paycheck with his name on it?” she shot back. “Come on, Ellery. You’ve been holding that foundation together with sheer caffeine and willpower, and you still manage to make time for everyone. When’s the last time someone made time for you?”
I looked away, pretending to brush a crumb off the table. “It’s not like that.”
Naomi sighed, but her tone softened. “You know I love you, right? Which is why I’m telling you—tonight, no work, no waiting for phone calls. You, me, and a night that doesn’t involve logistics spreadsheets or emotionally unavailable athletes.”
Despite myself, I laughed. “You’re dramatic.”
“Correct. And persuasive. So say yes.”
I hesitated, already thinking of excuses—emails to send, lists to finish, calls to return. But when I met her eyes, I saw the quiet worry there, the kind that had been growing every time I brushed off the same conversation.
“Fine,” I said finally, smiling. “But you’re picking the place.”
Naomi grinned, triumphant. “Oh, I’ve got ideas.”
“I’m afraid.”
“You should be.”
We both laughed, the sound easing some of the tension I hadn’t realized I’d been carrying. I tucked my phone into my bag and stood, looping my scarf around my neck.
For a brief, stubborn moment, I almost texted Kyle again—just to remind him, just to try one more time. But I stopped myself.
He was busy.
And maybe, just for one night, I could be too.
Naomi grabbed her purse and looped her arm through mine. “Come on,” she said with a grin. “Let’s go be bad at being responsible.”
