Page 8 of Facing Off
“I’m pretty sure it was a lot of great advice?—”
“Don’t think you are shit. Think you aretheshit, even if you aren’t already there. Also, doing something imperfectly is better than not doing it at all.”
“I know, but there’s so much work that comes with making this jump!”
“Like what?”
“Like finding a studio to lease out, for one.” Kavi groans. “Ugh, I’m hearing myself talk and shouldn’t I be cured of imposter syndrome by now?”
“Life happens,” argues Sonya, “and new bravery is needed to face new challenges. Either way, you should go for it. Open your boudoir photography studio.”
“Why?”
Sonya lifts her glass and clinks hers against Kavi’s glass. “Because I believe in you.”
Instead of saying anything else, Kavi hugs Sonya. Sonya pats her on the back.
Half an hour later, I notice Sonya slip out of the club.
Keeping my distance, I can’t help but follow her. She’s on the sidewalk, on her phone.
It takes me some time, but eventually, I figure out what she’s doing. Calling up studio rental listings and leaving voicemails for them to call her back with their prices and availability.
I can’t stick around. I go back inside. I’m not looking where I’m going, but I bump into someone. It’s Lokhov.
The tattooed defenseman raises his eyebrow. “You okay?”
No, I’m not okay. But I don’t have words to describe why.
I fake a smirk, then go to the bar and order a beer. It chills my hand, but I don’t move to drink any of it.
Fuck, what’s happening to me…?
My fist rubs circles in the middle of my chest, and my eyes feel as wide as saucers.
Why?
“Want to invite me back to your place?” The woman sliding into the seat next to mine is objectively gorgeous. Nice eyes and delicious curves wrapped in a tight dress.
“No.”
She seems taken aback. “Are you sure?”
I drink half my beer in one go. “I wish I wanted to say yes,” I tell her hoarsely.
“Maybe next time?” the woman wonders.
“Definitely. Next time.”
It’s a lie, even if I’m not admitting it to myself right now.
4
ADRIAN
The factthat I’ve stopped sleeping with other people freaks me out. So for months, there’s been a massive effort on my part to push past this pesky Sonya problem I’ve developed.
To that end, I book dinners with other women. Something about it being a numbers game. Problem is that by the time I’ve paid the bill, I’m already offering to call my dates a cab so they can get home safely.
