When I wake up on Sunday morning though, it’s not my alarm that seems to be blaring in my head. It’s my buzzer.
I groan and slip on my leopard print robe and pad my way over to the intercom.
“What?” I say angrily into the speaker, eyeing the clock on the microwave. It’s nine a.m. and I’d planned on sleeping all day long.
“Hey!” Steph yells, voice crackling. “If you don’t let us upstairs, I’m calling your mother.”
Ugh. And she would, too. Steph and my mom love each other.
“Fine,” I say, buzzing her in, unlocking my door, and then going into the kitchen to make myself a pot of coffee. All the caffeine is needed before I can deal with today.
Moments later, Steph and Nicola barge into the apartment.
“What the hell, Kayla?” Steph exclaims, tossing her purse on my sofa. Both of them look like they’ve just rolled out of bed, wearing pajama pants, flip-flops, and hoodies. “Where have you been?”
“I’ve been right here,” I say tiredly, opening the bag of coffee and inhaling deeply.
Steph walks right over to me, looking me up and down, as if checking for signs of injury or bodysnatching. “You’re ignoring our calls, our texts…”
I shrug and measure out the coffee into the filter before pressing the on button. “Didn’t feel like being social this week. Sorry.”
“Bram told us about the article,” Nicola says quietly. “We read it. It’s excellent, Kayla, really. He’s so happy with it…but…what happened?”
I sigh heavily and turn to face them, crossing my arms. “You mean why is my name not on it?”
“Yeah,” Steph says. “Who is Neil? Is that the same Neil we’ve met?”
I nod. We’ve all partied together.
“Yeah, the same one. He edited it and Joe thought it would be better if his name went on the byline, since I’m not actually a writer.”
“That’s bullshit,” Nicola says, frowning. “We’re not pulling your leg when we tell you it’s great. I mean, really, you should be proud of yourself.”
Am I proud of myself though? I don’t know.
I turn away. “Well, it is what it is. I’m over it.”
“If you were over it, you wouldn’t be avoiding your best friends,” Steph says, putting her hand on my shoulder. “Do you need a hug?”
I swat her hand away and back up. “Absolutely not.” I look at them both. “Why are you both here at such an ungodly hour? Who gets up at eight a.m. on a Sunday?”
“Your friends,” Steph says imploringly, “who want to make sure you’re up and ready to go to the festival today.”
“Oh, hell no,” I say, shaking my head vigorously. “I’m not going to that. I’ve already missed two days. What’s the point of going to the third?”
“Two days that were a lot of fun,” Steph says. “Don’t miss the last one. It will take your mind off things, and I think you need to get out of your apartment before you start peeing into jars and letting your toenails grow long.”
“Like Howard Hughes,” Nicola adds.
I give her a dry look. “Yeah, I know who Howard Hughes is.”
“Please. Even Ava is going,” Nicola says. “She’s so excited.”
“Are you going to dress her up like a little fairy hipster?” I ask, picturing her daughter like all the feathers and headband wearing girls that swarm these festivals.
“Maybe.”
“Well, I’m sorry to disappoint you,” I tell them. “But it’s Sock Sunday, and I have a lot of reading and napping to do.” I kick my leg out, showcasing the fuzzy knee-length socks with Minions on them.
“Fuck sock Sunday,” Steph says. “Do you know who else is going?” she adds conspiratorially.
I swallow, already feeling heat in my stomach. “Who?”
“Lachlan,” she says. She adds a knowing little smirk.
“So?” I tell her, ignoring the flutter in my chest. Just the mention of his name and I feel myself light up from the inside, like a switch being turned on.
“Oh, come on,” Nicola says. “Don’t pretend you’re still not all—”
“All what?” I challenge.
“Lovestruck.”
I laugh and roll my eyes. “Lovestruck? Please. This is me you’re talking about. Kayla Moore. Maneater extraordinaire.” Even though that phrase has kind of lost its shine.
“Okay, not lovestruck,” Nicola corrects herself. “Infatuated.”
“Horny,” Steph adds. “Kayla is just a horny monster with a raging lady boner.”
I grimace. “It doesn’t sound so good when you say it.”
“Phffft. Whatever. The point is, you need to get laid something fierce,” she adds. “This celibacy thing is not good for you.”
“While that may or may not be true, we all know it won’t be with him,” I say, tapping my foot, wishing the damn coffee would drip faster. “And I thought he wasn’t going to go. He told me he didn’t like crowds and that it wasn’t his scene.”
“Bram bought him a VIP for today. Somehow convinced him,” Nicola says. I look over at her and she gives me a hopeful smile. “You know, he leaves next Sunday for Scotland. This might be the last time you see him.”
I rub my lips together anxiously.
“That’s true,” Steph says. “You probably should say goodbye.”
I eye them both. “I don’t know,” I say reluctantly, even though in my heart I do know. I want to see him again. One more time. I know nothing will come of it, but I’ve become addicted to that high I get when I’m around him. I may not be lovestruck, but there is something so…I don’t know, refreshing, about feeling like a schoolgirl again with one hell of a crush. And I think Steph and Nicola know that, too.
“Fine,” I say. “I’ll get ready. What time should we be there?”
“I’ll come get you at noon,” Steph says, smiling triumphantly as they both wave and flounce out of my apartment.
I exhale noisily and look over at the pot of coffee, which is finally done. I’ll drink the whole damn thing, then I’ll get ready.
***
When noon rolls around, I have to admit that I’m actually excited. It feels good to have my mind off of things, and even though I know that tomorrow is Monday and full of suckage again, and that this may be the last time I get to feel those butterflies when I look into Lachlan’s compelling eyes and conveniently brush my body against his, I’m committing myself to live in the moment. Today is only about today and nothing else.
Naturally, it also becomes about looking my best. I want to look good, but I also don’t want to become a parody like so many festival chicks. I settle on suede boots because I know how much dust and dirt gets kicked up in Golden Gate Park, leather shorts for the edgy factor, and a long plaid shirt over a low-backed tank top. Today is one of the few days I can get away without wearing a bra (hell, half the girls will be in bikinis), so I take advantage of that. I add a small crossbody bag and I’m ready to go.
Soon, Linden’s Jeep pulls up to the curb with Steph riding shotgun. I climb in the backseat and learn that Bram is driving Nicola, Ava, and Lachlan in a little bit.
“Hey, you guys,” Steph says, eyeing me in the rear-view mirror as we cruise down Geary Boulevard toward the park. “I just wanted to say that I know you guys have had your differences in the past, but you really need to start playing nice to each other.”
Linden and I exchange a glance.
“I am being nice,” I say.
“When am I not nice?” Linden adds at the same time.
Steph scoffs at us. “I’m not stupid. You guys fight like cats and dogs sometimes. Look, I know it’s weird and awkward that you guys slept together back in the day—”
“That’s not why it’s awkward,” I tell her quickly, leaning forward between their two seats. “It’s that he was such an ass to me afterward.” I thump my fist on Linden’s shoulder.
“Hey,” he says briefly, rubbing his arm. He glances at me with disgraced eyes before looking back to the road. “How many times do I have to apologize for being a bloody wanker?”