Page 5 of Abyss

I know she’d help me find a job to tide me over for a few months, but A.) I hate asking for favors, especially from friends, because it always makes me feel like I’m using their friendship, and B.) I hate asking favors from a person who will literally stop at nothing to help me, despite how busy she is.

I wiggle out my credit card from my purse, rising from my chair. “I’ll catch you up on everything—I also want to know how the wedding planning is going—but we’re going to need coffee first. Tell me what you’ll have.” When Madison tries to get up with her designer purse in hand, I shake my head. “Nope, you got me last time. This one’s on me.”

“I didn’t realize you were counting,” she huffs, placing her purse back on the table, but I appreciate when she doesn’t argue.

It’s not a secret that Madison’s well-off. From what I understand, that wasn’t always the case, and her humble, down-to-earth demeanor is a testament to that. But given my current, barely held together getup—a faded black tank top with a large strawberry illustrated in the middle, jeans that definitely weren’t ripped when I bought them, and Nathan’s weathered red-and-blue flannel tied around my waist—along with the fact that she knows I still drive my dad’s old Mazda and have school loans I’ll be paying off for the foreseeable future, it’s obvious I’m not rolling in dough, but I’m grateful she doesn’t make me feel that way.

“Well, I am,” I sass at her with a smile, though she knows I’m teasing. “Now, tell me what you want.”

Seven minutes later, I’m sauntering back to the table with a medium mocha latte for Madison and a kid-sized black coffee for myself. I’d wanted my favorite crème brûlée macchiato, but by the time I got to the counter and realized akid’s cup of coffee would be eighty percent cheaper, I figured I’d save the extra cash.

I take a sip, trying not to make a face when it burns my tongue. “Are you all set for the big day? It’s coming up so soon!”

Madison hums around her first sip, putting the cup down and smiling from ear to ear. She’s been dating her girlfriend, Brie, for almost five years, and the two decided to take things to the next level earlier this year. They’re supposed to be getting married mid-summer.

At twenty-nine-years old, Madison’s about four years older than me, with one hell of a good head on her shoulders. She’s accomplished more in one life than most people could in two. From having made huge contributions leading to breakthroughs in renewable energy, to publishing influential papers in the field of chemistry, to all the charity work she does, she’s a force to be reckoned with. And the person she gives all the credit to is her dad.

Apparently, he was only seventeen when she was born and raised her on his own, while trying to figure out a future for the two of them. And what an incredible future he carved, given his multi-million-dollar Earth Sciences business. From the little I know—given I’ve never seen or met him—Madison and her dad are more like best friends than a typical father-daughter duo.

“We’re ready! Well, for the most part. There’s always last-minute things, but nothing I’m stressed about.” She chuckles. “Brie, on the other hand, thrives on stress, so no matter how many times I’ve assured her that everything’s going to be fine, she finds reasons to freak out. We got your RSVP a few weeks ago; I’m so glad you’ll be there.” She wags her brows. “No plus-one?”

I wink at her, hoping to hide behind the veil of jest. “Plus-ones are for people who get bored by themselves. I, for one, have no problems with my own company.”

I don’t mention the fact that plus-ones are for those who seek them out, or any relationship at all, for that matter.

It’s not that I haven’t explored relationships in the past, because I have. But things usually fizzle out after a few dates, probably because I’m guarded. It takes time for me to open up to someone. Whatever the reason, no one has ever worked hard enough to look beneath the layers, to stick around long enough. And, truth be told, I’ve never found someone worth letting in that far.

She takes a sip of her drink, winking at me from above the rim. “Well, if that changes, you can always add one at the last minute. We’re keeping things pretty casual.”

I smile at her. “I can’t wait. And if you need any help at all, let me know.”

“Okay, now tell me what’s happening in Kavi-land! What’s next for you now that you’ve graduated? Masters in art therapy, right? That’s pretty damn exciting!”

“Thanks. Yeah, it is exciting,” I agree, turning the cup on the table clockwise and chewing my bottom lip. “I got a full-time position as a therapist at a children’s hospital in Portland that starts after the summer—”

Madison’s hand clamps over mine, cutting off my words. “Kavi, that’s awesome! I’m so happy for you!”

I blush. “Thanks.”

I’ve never been good with compliments . . . or words in general. I’m definitely better with people I care about, but getting to know someone new or making conversation for the sake of doing so has never been my forte. If I have friends, like Madison, it’s because they’ve tried to get to know me. But even so, I don’t divulge enough for them to know much.

Maybe it’s because I’ve never found myself interesting enough. Maybe I’ve just always liked listening and observingmore. Or maybe it’s because I tend to be the overthinking type, never sure of what to say. By the time I figure it out, the moment’s usually long gone.

It’s one of the reasons I’ve always loved art—it doesn’t require my words, just my thoughts. It’s the only place where my feelings are enough. WhereIam enough. The place where I’m both completely in control and completely free.

The place where mistakes result in new possibilities, not catastrophic endings.

“What are you doing until then?” Madison asks after taking another sip of her drink.

My face heats at the thought of asking her for help; I’ve never been good at that, either. “Actually, I’m desperately looking for a short-term gig. Something to be a stopgap until I start my job.”

Her brows furrow. “Do you want me to ask around at the university? There’s always a need for temporary positions. I can also ask Brie if she needs anyone to help at her law firm—”

“Actually,” I clear my throat, “I saw a position at your dad’s company, Case Geo, for a temporary admin position.

Her eyes widen as realization sets in. “Oh, that’s right! My dad’s looking for a person to fill-in while his admin is on maternity leave this summer.” She blows out a breath. “But, as much as I love the man, I’d never wish for a friend to work for him.”

My brows wrinkle. “Why?”

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