Antilove

Dodici

CAPITOLO DODICI

the fundamentals of a sixth date

***

"WANT ANY, ROSE?" Amber's assistant asks her, a plate of brownies in her hand.

    "No, thanks, I'm allergic," Rose replies, seeing the pale chunks of walnuts in them. She never understood why anyone would want to put anything other than chocolate chunks in brownies.

    "Oh, that's alright. I baked another batch."

    That's how she finds herself spending her break with Amber's intern, who's name she still hasn't learned, melted goodness in her mouth. They sit beside each other, on the floor outside the building, where her coworkers took smoke breaks. The skies are muddy tonight, as if she was looking up through plastic glasses.

    "Another one?"

    "Sure," Rose says.

    Her eyes fall on the gold necklace on the girl's neck and she reads a small, printed, Sophie, on the plate of the delicate heart. Tiffany's. Rose would recognize it anywhere. It's lucky for Rose that Sophie wears a fashionable name-tag.

    "How do you like Amber?" Rose asks.

    Sophie looks at her with widened eyes. She's currently holding an e-cigarette in her fingers and Rose can see it's the strawberry liquid kind.

    "Um," she says, "I learn a lot from her. She's really nice."

    The intern's answer makes Rose laugh a bit, reminding her of the answers she'd get when she'd ask boys what they thought of her girl friends, back in middle school. High school brought a whole other onslaught of viciousness that never really let her go.

    "She really likes jellyfish, just a heads up," Rose tells her, before brushing off the brownie crumbs and heading inside.

    Once she's inside, she can't really explain why she did that. In the company, Rose is the one that hardly comes to functions and events—unless they're mandatory—and is the last on the list to talk to anyone other than the models she's working on, her supervisors, and Amber. Maybe it's the inexplicable feeling she got when she saw Sophie with her strawberry e-cig, her corkscrew hair blowing in the afternoon wind. When she was starting out, she could've used all the tips she could get.

    It takes a while for her to soak all the tips of her brushes in soap water—after the long ten hours she's had, she's used up her arsenal of tools. After laying them out on paper towels, she sits down on her stool and waits for Lucien to pick her up.

    Domestic life was starting to scratch at her exterior and at twenty-four, Rose Kaufman would never have pegged herself as someone dependent on another person. It's always been that way, she supposes, since she got adopted. Even though Jessica will always be her mom, Rose had to gain an independence at an unholy age.

    The phone in her lap vibrates and it's her cue to pick up her bag and suitcase to head out of there.

    A soft purring from Lucien's car interrupts the vacant atmosphere and parking lot. Rose gets in, after Lucien's packed her belongings in the trunk and opened the door for her. He starts driving onto the main road, feet easing into the pedals.

    "Dinner?"

    "I'm kinda tired. But sushi would be nice," Rose says.

    Her eyes haven't yet taken in Lucien, as she's still staring out the window, a hand covering her chin. But as she says, she's tired.