The more Laney studied the selfies, the more she was certain that this woman looked familiar. Then again, everyone looked slightly familiar. Laney met a ton of people through work. She had a fairly active social life. She very well could have run into her in the past. It wouldn’t surprise her.
Laney read through the profile quickly, which was quite abstract. No one could learn anything about anyone by reading one of those anyway, no matter how poorly or well written it was. It wasn’t like it mattered if they had common interests or not. She exited out of the profile and found herself back at the message.
She chewed on her thumbnail, which she never usually did. She stared down her fridge, which had begun to make a strange buzzing noise a few weeks ago and hadn’t really stopped. She made mental notes about the work she’d done that afternoon and about the editing waiting for her tomorrow. She itched a spot on her forehead, then ran her fingers through her long hair, combing it out until it felt slightly oily at the roots from being touched so much.
She picked at a pilly bit on the afghan covering her lap, which was knitted, or maybe crocheted – she couldn’t tell the difference – that her brother’s fiancé, Natasha had given her for Christmas the year before. She dented in the top couch cushion with her head a little bit harder. She imagined what total, utter, radio silence on the subject of her ovaries, or anyone else’s ovaries, would sound like coming from her mom’s end.
And finally, she responded to Unicornspooprainbowsandsprinkles498.
Chapter 4
Morgun
Morgun wasn’t sure how a few messages could end in a very late, eight-thirty meeting at a coffee shop on a Monday night, but apparently they could.
She hadn’t expected Laney to respond to the message Chelsea fired off. And it wasn’t like she had checked her inbox every hour or anything. When she saw a response, she nearly fell off her chair. Laney said that she’d like to meet in person since she wasn’t good at the online stuff. She wanted to know if Morgun was game for it. Morgun’s immediate impulse was to delete the message and not respond to it, but she couldn’t help herself.
So now she was waiting in an empty coffee shop, cross legged, sipping on a chai latte which was far too sweet and tasted too much like cinnamon for her liking. The place closed at ten, so it wasn’t a wonder it was as barren as those old western ghost towns.
Laney was late. Of course, she was late. Why would she ever be considerate of other people’s time?
Morgun felt ridiculous. Why was she even doing this? Because Chelsea thought it was a good idea? Because secretly there was some wicked little bit of herself that thought she deserved some sort of vindication for Laney making it while she didn’t? Was she just jealous? Did she really want revenge that badly? Did she want to go through with Chelsea’s plan and steal contacts from Laney? Or was she simply curious, and unable to stop herself?
Morgun tried to convince herself it was just the latter. She didn’t want to think that she’d be able to pull off schemes or want revenge so badly that she’d show up, ready to serve it piping hot. Unlike the latte, which was served to her lukewarm. Maybe that’s why it was so syrupy.
In the middle of her internal debate, Laney swept in through the door like an actual freaking hurricane. The place was decked out in Christmas crap and the huge green wreath on the door nearly fell off, the door was swung open so violently. It clattered shut behind Laney, who stood there looking around for all of half a second, probably at the Christmas lights on the wall and the other gaudy décor throughout the place, until her eyes fixed on Morgun.
Morgun didn’t mean to, but she shifted uncomfortably on the already uncomfortable wooden chair. She felt her face heat up. Her freckles were probably glowing, which happened when she blushed.
Laney nodded at her, then stalked over to the counter. To Morgun’s surprise, Laney didn’t hesitate to talk to the guy behind it in a familiar, friendly manner.
“Hey, Jim, how’s it going this week?”
“Laney. Haven’t seen you in forever. Did you finally buy your own machine like you were threatening and start making your coffees at home?”
“Nope. Just been busy. I’ll have the usual.”
“Two shots of espresso, coming right up.”
Gross. Who drinks espresso at this time of night? Or ever?
Laney waited up at the counter while Jim, a guy in his late twenties who wore a casual t-shirt and jeans that made it very obvious that he worked out, served up her espresso shots in a huge paper cup.
Morgun detested the shop. She’d never been there before. It was far out of her way. She didn’t live even remotely close, but when Laney suggested it, without even asking her what area of the city she lived in, she’d instantly agreed. The place was tiny, tacky, too Christmassy, and Jim was clearly hitting on Laney like he’d hit on Morgun. If he knew Laney, didn’t he know he was barking up the wrong tree? Or maybe he didn’t care?
Morgun shuddered and hunkered down lower over the drink. She wasn’t sure if she could stomach another sip. Or another minute. Why the heck had she ever let Chelsea send that message in the first place?
Laney pulled out a chair across from her and sent Jim a pointed look that told him to get lost and quit listening in. Morgun was more than shocked when Jim scuttled off to the back rather quickly.
“So,” Laney said, obviously over-conversational, as she hunkered down in the chair with her double espresso.
Laney tipped back the cup, finished both shots in a single, long gulp, then set it down hard. Her face was beautiful but also crazy intimidating. She was apparently the kind of person who looked another person in the eye like she was ready to take them down, like a hunter targeting its prey.
Morgun gulped. Yeah, Laney was pretty. Gorgeous, in fact, with her long, silky hair that was so dark there were blue highlights in it from all the flashing lights in the shop. Her face was a masterpiece. Oval shaped. Slightly curled nose, sharp cheekbones, full lips, piercingly dark eyes. From her filled-in brows to her cherry red lipstick, her makeup was flawless. She had on a pair of black ripped up skinny jeans and a black blouse that was totally sheer, with a black lace bra beneath. That too was a little bit shocking to Morgun.
If Laney couldn’t make a living on one side of the lens, she could easily have done it on the other. Her style was effortless, and she really did have that confident, model air about her. Morgun wouldn’t have been caught dead in what Laney was wearing, but somehow looking at the other woman made her want to rush out and get a pair of her own ripped up black jeans. She’d never worn black jeans in her life. She hated jeans. She was more of a leggings, yoga pants, breezy skirts and long dresses kind of a girl.
“I’ll get right to the point, since it’s late and you probably have better things to be doing than sitting here drinking that god-awful latte. I can smell it.” Laney’s nostrils flared. “The lattes here are shit. Way too sweet. Too much cinnamon.” Morgun felt herself wanting to get up and apologize to Jim on Laney’s behalf. “Anyway, I lied in the profile. I couldn’t just write what I wanted to write and expect the moderators or admin or whoever not to delete it. The truth is, I’m only looking for a date for my brother’s wedding. It’s on Saturday. That’s it. There would be no after. No seeing where things go.”