HEATHER
Portland tonight. Dress cute. I already called your neighbor to watch Nova. Don’t fight me.
She loves me, you know that. 7 PM. Be ready.
You called Mrs. Kent?
HEATHER
She loves me, you know that. 7 PM. Be ready.
I laugh out loud, shaking my head. “She’s relentless,” I tell Nova, who’s been sleeping soundly on her little dog bed.
Her ears perk up like she understands.
“Guess it’s just you and the Kent’s tonight,” I add, scratching behind her ears. “Be good, okay?”
She huffs and flops back down with a dramatic sigh.
I make myself tea and wander around the studio while it steeps. The kettle’s whistle fades, and I pour it into my favorite mug—the periwinkle one with the chipped handle. I exhale heavily through my nostrils as I stare at the ocean. I guess I could use a night out. Hell, I deserve it.
By the time the clock hits six-thirty, I’m standing in front of the mirror, hair curled, blue jeans on, soft pink blouse tucked in. Heather’s text lights up my phone again:
HEATHER:
Here, babe.
I grab my bag, lock the door behind me, and glance back at Nova curled up on the couch. “Be good, girl,” I murmur. The evening breeze smells like sea salt and summer as I head down the porch steps.
“Have fun, sweetheart,” Mrs. Kent calls over from her driveway. Her silver hair catches the fading sunlight, and she’s wearing that soft lavender sweater she always wears. Her warm brown eyes crinkle at the corners when she smiles.
I grin and wave. “I’ll try my best.”
She nods at Nova, who’s now sitting politely by the door. “We’ll watch some movies together with Henry. He’s excited to see Nova. You girls be careful.”
Heather, leaning against her car, shouts back, “We’ll be fine, Mrs. Kent!”
“You’re like my daughters,” Mrs. Kent calls as she waves goodbye. “I don’t care what trouble you get into, just keep each other safe. Give us a ring if you need anything.”
I linger a moment, glancing back at my bubble of calm I’ve created for myself. Then Heather’s tugging at my sleeve. “Come on! I’mstarvingafter the shift I had today.”
The drive is almost two hours with traffic since it’s Friday, and the streets get busier as we hit the city lights. Heather hums along to“Afraid”by The Neighborhood on the radio, tapping her fingers on the wheel, and I let myself relax into the rhythm of her energy and the fun weekend to come.
We drop our bags at a small, modern hotel right on the river, and Heather practically bounces ahead of me toward the elevator. She’s wearing a black leather jacket over a short black skirt, her blonde hair pulled into a messy ponytail that suits her perfectly. Ishake my head and smile. Heather always manages to look effortless while I’m overthinking every detail. She’s the well-dressed one of us.
“C’mon, slowpoke,” she calls, grabbing my hand and tugging me along. “Rooftop bar. Water view.Drinks.”
I laugh, letting her lead me through the lobby. The elevator smells faintly of citrus cleaner and polished wood.
When we step onto the rooftop, the breeze hits immediately, and I’m suddenly as hungry as Heather. Strings of warm lights criss cross overhead, reflecting on the glassware like tiny stars. A mix of music and chatter swirls around us, people laughing and clinking glasses.
We find a table near the railing, the river flowing behind it. Heather slides onto the chair, leaning back and tossing her ponytail over one shoulder. “Perfect,” she says, scanning the menu.
I settle in across from her, pulling my cardigan tighter around my shoulders.
When the server comes by, Heather orders us a round of fruity cocktails and a couple of plates of shared appetizers. Garlic shrimp, calamari, and a small charcuterie board. I close my eyes for a second, letting the sounds of the city soothe the little tension in my shoulders. I always love visiting Portland and getting out of my small town.
Heather’s fidgeting with her leather jacket zipper, laughing at something she saw on her phone. She’s electric, messy, and impossible not to be drawn to. I glance at her, grateful for her friendship.