Determined

Part 3

Sun poured through the back window of my studio, and I turned away from it, trying to avoid waking up. The mourning doves cooed and I glanced over at the clock on my bedside table. It was still early. I must have fallen asleep shortly after getting home last night. I picked up my phone and sat up in bed, re-adjusting myself against the pillows. So many text messages—I must've left my phone on silent. There was a message from my best friend Carrie, asking how the show went. And there were several messages from Eve and Curtis, concentrating around the events from the previous night. Of course. I read Eve's messages first.

Hey did you get home ok?

Hey are you there?

U better be at home and asleep. I am worried.

Text me in the morning so I know you are ok!

I didn't want her to worry. I texted her back quickly:

Hey Eve, got home fine. Fell asleep right away, sorry to worry you. We can talk later!

JJJ

Extra smiley faces always helped. Done. Now on to Curtis. I scrolled over.

Hey Sam sorry to hear you don't feel well. Feel better.

Sam - Michael just told me you went home with DAVID KEITH? Wha? CALL ME.

PS: Leah sold out!

Whoa. I sat up straight in bed. Sold out? That was awesome! For a second, I was over the moon with excitement, then my eyes flicked back to his second message. David Keith. The night before came flooding back to me and all the fine downy hair on my arms prickled. Gorgeous, handsome David. A crushing feeling of lust washed over me just thinking about him. There was heaviness in my belly, something deep and dull, like a hangover. Keith. I felt like I knew that name for some reason, but I couldn't place it. But why was Curtis freaking out? He must have known David through Michael, and he must've not known about Jenna. It was too early to call, so I texted Curtis back.

Awesome about Leah! So excited. Feeling much better. What about David? Do you know him?

I waited. He didn't text back. He must have been out late last night celebrating. Good for him; he deserved it. I smiled. I guess the mystery of David Keith would just have to wait.

I swung my feet over the edge of my bed to the floor and reluctantly pulled myself up. I pattered over the cool, polished concrete floor to my kitchenette. Looking through the cupboards, I came upon something horrible.

Out of coffee.

I sighed and looked around. Well, it was early and a beautiful day.

I pulled on some dark jeans, a big chunky sweater and popped into my postage-stamp sized bathroom to apply some pink lip gloss and attempt to remedy my long brown hair. It was wild, unruly, and quite a bit matted from the night before. Sighing, I resigned myself to a ballerina-style top-knot and headed out the door, grabbing my purse and phone along the way.

The cool morning air felt refreshing on my neck as I wandered down the street toward College Avenue. The city was just beginning to wake up, and the fog had almost completely burnt off. Rockridge was a district of Oakland that catered to the DINK (Dual Income No Kids) and young family demographic. It was an adorable neighborhood; a stone's throw from UC Berkeley and California College of the Arts, and was lined with small 'mom and pop' stores and restaurants. Early this morning, most of the folks on the street were parents with small children and couples outfitted in running gear. I popped into a little French bakery that had all sorts of golden delights heaped in the window. The line inside was long, but it moved quickly as it satiated the neighborhoods craving for buttery croissants and cinnamon sugar morning buns. I exchanged a few bills for an almond croissant and a paper cup of coffee and took a seat on the bench outside next to an older man and his golden retriever.