“Oh my god! I’m so sick of yuppies trying to take over this place. Don’t they know that this is not the spot for them?”

“They only come during the day. Then don’t dare come around the scary freaks after dark.”

“The freaks come out at night?”

“Yeah. I love seeing the Chads flipping up their collars and running away in their casual—yet comfortable—boat shoes.”

“Right?”

“Becky’s been sitting over there for the last half-hour. She looks lost. Hasn’t even gone in yet. Keeps looking around like she’s gonna get mugged.”

“That’s not just a Becky. That’s Austin’s Becky.”

“Austin’s Becky?”

“They’ve been together for months.”

“Wait! What? He’s fucking her? She’s so, so—”

“Becky?” Someone laughs.

“Plain,” the girl finishes.

When Emily said she wanted to meet at The Usual Market for lunch, I agreed easily because I love the eclectic mix of people and funky vibe. Plus, it made sense for me to come to her since she’s working all day and the tattoo shop is a few blocks away. Though I’ve only been here a few times, when Austin asked me to meet him for a drink after work, I never felt uncomfortable until the people a few tables away started talking about me loud enough for me to overhear. The black-and-white striped dress I picked up from Target at the beginning of the summer doesn’t scream “Look at all the money I have!” So I’m unsure of how they even came to the conclusion that I’m a yuppie.

I know it’s their own insecurity. I know they hate me for what they think I have because they don’t have it. It annoys me that they chose to make someone feel bad about being here. Who decides where somewhere doesn’t belong?

It’s funny, because I wonder if any of them are like Emily. People who grew up in affluent—or at least middle-class families—but choose to insult people like me to prove they fit in. Money doesn’t have anything to do with how you feel inside or who you identify with. I’ve felt like a loner my entire life, not because of a wealth divide, but because I’m quiet and reserved compared to the rest of my family. Wealth is not a measure of character.

We’re on opposite sides of the high school gymnasium. Maybe someday, we’ll move to the middle and start playing together.

“I seriously can’t believe Austin would want her,” the girl continues.

I take a deep breath and check the time on my phone, wondering why Emily is so late, without even texting. Chances are she’s working on someone and hasn’t even looked at the time, but I admit, my anxiety level creeps higher with every comment. Getting up and going inside means walking right by their table, and I don’t want it to seem like they’ve gotten to me. Even though they have.

“She must have a magical pussy.”

“Why the fuck are you analyzing my sex life?” Austin’s voice rings out gruff, loud, angry.

His voice—and the ensuing commotion—makes me turn my head toward the people I’ve been trying to avoid looking at. Austin has the guy by the shirt collar.

“This place is for everyone. And you three can get out until you figure out what that means.” He lets the guy go and points toward the street. “You too, sweetheart. Get your bitch-ass off this property.”

“Jesus, Austin!”

“Is she really worth kicking out your friends?”

He crosses his arms over his chest. “The only friend of mine I see out here is that girl over there who’s minding her fucking business while assholes talk shit about her. That’s the kind of person I’ll stick up for any day of the week.”

The girl grabs her purse off the picnic table and lifts her middle finger as she walks away. The guy follows her without even a glance back at Austin. They left without putting up much of a fuss, which tells me that he’s either got a lot of pull among his friend group or he never gets as mad as he just did.

When Austin looks at me I give him a small smile, then drop my eyes to my lap. I appreciate that he stood up for me, but I still feel like an idiot having to be saved by my boyfriend.

“You okay?” he asks. He’s next to me now, the smell of bergamot and stale beer assaulting my senses. He always smells like beer when he gets home from work.

“Yeah.” I meet his eyes.

“I don’t feel the way they do, Liz.” Austin sits next to me and places his hand on my leg.

“I know. It’s okay.” I brush off his words—but not his hand. His touch comforts me.

“I mean, you do have a magical pussy, but—” His fingers creep toward the sweet spot between my legs and I’m instantly happy I chose to wear this dress today.

“You think?” I ask.

Austin lowers his mouth to my ear. When he speaks it comes out as a hiss. “Fuck yes.”

Then his hand is underneath my skirt, his fingers slipping into my underwear. “All I can think about is fucking you with my tongue while your pussy grinds down on my face.”

“Again?” I ask with a sharp intake of breath as his fingers work me.

“Every fucking day, Miss Honey.” He adds his thumb, rubbing hard, fast circles against my clit—the way he knows makes me get off.

“I could get used to that.” My breath starts to match his rhythm, though I’m trying to hold onto my control. Am really I going to let him get me off in public? “What are you doing here? I thought you were off today?”

“Are you trying to distract me?” Austin grins.

I place my palms flat on the top of the picnic table, hoping for the strength to stay upright, rather than melt into him. My pulse speeds up. I look around the area, worried people may be watching, but it’s empty except for us. “You’re going to make me come. I don’t know how I feel about that.”

“You don’t?” he asks. “Does it feel good?”

“Yes.”

He leans closer to me, giving his fingers better access to hook into me. “It is exciting?”

“Yes,” I whisper.

“Do you want me to stop?”

Instead of worrying about who might be looking at us, I turn my face to his, which is inches from mine. His bright blue eyes shine with a sharpness I’ve never seen. A crooked smile lifts his lips as if he’s daring me to protest.

“No.”

Austin seizes my mouth, kissing me with a desperation that sends me over the edge. I grab his head with both hands and keep our mouths molded together as I come hard. When his lips twist into a grin, I remove my mouth from his.

“Holy fuck, that was sexy. I’ll never get enough of you, babe,” Austin says, his breath fast and warm against my cheeks.

“Are you kidding me?” Emily’s voice rings through the air thick and humid and filled with the scent of sex.

“Hey Em!” I squeak, embarrassed because I know she saw what just happened. If she’s this close to us, there’s no way she couldn’t have.

“Did you guys just do what I think you did?”

“What? Kiss?” Austin asks innocently. The smirk on his face is anything but innocent. He looks absolutely thrilled with himself. “Yeah, we kissed. Kissing your sister is my favorite thing in the world to do. She’s absolutely phenomenal.”

“Enough of that.” I stop him. “What are you doing here?”

“You let a guy finger-fuck you under the table and you don’t even know where he works? Real classy, Liz,” Emily teases.

I know it’s sarcasm. And yet, it still sends flames of embarrassment to my cheeks. Emily says whatever she feels like. She’s not hindered by any societal pressures of what’s appropriate to talk about in public.

“He was supposed to have today off. I didn’t realize he would be here.”

“Liz knows that my real job is a musician. A musician whose band just got offered a contract with RGA.”

“What?” Emily and I say in unison.

Austin smiles, but it doesn’t reach his eyes so there must be more to the story. “We literally just got the offer a few days ago.”

“Dude! I knew it. That’s so fucking rad!” Emily lifts her hand for a high five, then retracts it immediately. “You should probably wash your hand, dude.”

“Yup,” he says, lowering the arm he’d raised. I laugh.

“I mean, it’s not signed yet,” Austin continues. “We haven’t worked out all the details, so if you could keep it on the down low, that’d be awesome.”

“Yeah, man! Your secret is safe with me,” Emily assures him. That’s one of the things I love about her; she really does keep her mouth shut. Probably because she’s had to keep her life secret for so long. I can tell by the way people treat her that they do not know her background. I wonder if it would change things.

“Can we talk later?” he whispers.

“Of course.” I pull away, take his face in my hands, and plant my lips on his. I know he has reservations about signing a contract for various reasons. He must still be contemplating the pros and cons. Either way, I want to show my support. “I’m so proud of you.”

Em drops her messenger bag on the picnic table. “Why the fuck didn’t Fozzie text me?” Her thumbs tap her keyboard furiously.

“I don’t know. Probably because we’re still in shock. When Nelson said he had some big news, we thought it was something with the upcoming tour. We had no clue it was a label offering us a contract.”

“It’s the universe, man.” Emily looks up from her phone. “All the good shit you put into the world is coming to you.”

Austin nods. “Still a lot to work out. We’ll see.”

“Shit, Lizzy, I just saw your text. Sorry, I’m an asshole. I took a walk-in at the shop. Didn’t realize it would take me as long as it did. Did you eat?”

“No, not yet. I don’t even know what they have here,” I admit. I feel like an idiot that I sat here for thirty minutes, so paralyzed by the people who were talking about me, that I didn’t even go inside. Even though I’ve been here with Austin multiple times, I’ve never eaten at the deli.

“I’ll grab you a menu,” Austin says. “I gotta get back in there anyway. I’ll take my break in a few and have lunch with you guys, is that cool?”

“I don’t know. Is that cool, Liz? Or did you want time to gush about how much you love Austin without him here?”

“Shut up,” I hiss, though I can’t contain my smile. I don’t love him, do I? I like him. A lot. The more I see him, the more I want to see him. Even after a few months together, I still can’t get him out of my head. Every second with him makes me feel better and better about myself and my future.

“Oh shit. Sisters lunch, yeah. No. Don’t worry. I was just—fuck! I didn’t mean to intrude.”

“I like your intrusions,” I say without thinking about the double entendre.

But Emily doesn’t miss it. “I can confirm that from where I was standing.”

I drop my face into my hands.

“Give her a break, Em,” Austin says. “She stepped out of her comfort zone to have lunch with you here.”

His comment doesn’t come across as angry or rude, but it still stings. I’m comfortable anywhere. I just wasn’t comfortable with people talking shit about me while I was a few tables away.

Austin plants a kiss on my hair and goes back inside.

Em puts her hand on my head. “Lighten up, Liz! I’m kidding! Sorry I embarrassed you.”

I lift my head. “It’s okay. I’m not embarrassed by what you said. I’m embarrassed at how much I like him.”

“Why would you be embarrassed about that?” Emily lowers herself onto the bench across from me and pulls her knees up to sit criss-cross applesauce. Her long, pale legs are covered in even more art than last time I saw her. She could have had the tattoos for years, but I feel like I notice something new every time I’m with her. Tattoos aren’t my form of self-expression, but I absolutely appreciate how gorgeous they are and the talent of the artists.

I lift my gaze from her legs to her eyes. “He’s—”

“Infatuated with you?”

“What? No. It’s only been a few months.” I dismiss her assumption.

“Who cares. Love doesn’t have a timeline and that man fucking loves you.”

“Have you talked to him?” I feel like we are sitting at a table in a middle-school cafeteria.

“No. I can see it. I’ve known Austin for a long time.” Emily smiles as she pulls out a pack of cigarettes from her bag, then holds it up. “Do you mind?”

“Yes, but I know that won’t stop you.” Emily has heard enough of my lectures. I’m not one to waste more breath on a battle I have no control over.

“You’re what? Twenty-seven? Twenty-eight?” she asks, holding the cancer stick in her mouth and lighting it. She takes a drag, then grabs it between two delicate fingers before she exhales. “And you can’t even tell when a guy is head over heels for you. That makes me sad, Liz.”

“He doesn’t love me. We just started dat—whatever this is.”

“You’re so smart, yet so dumb.”

Her words hit me hard, because of the truth behind them. She’s right, I’m book-smart, and empathetic, but I really suck at relationships. But that’s because I never had someone who treated me like Austin treats me.

I can’t stop the smile on my face and the butterflies in my stomach when I think about him. I’ve never wanted to spend less hours at work, or put off a project that would advance my career just to hang out with another human. Until now. I want to spend every minute with him. He’s ambitious and hardworking and empathetic and encouraging. He sees the best in me—which has nothing to do with wealth or a prestigious career. He sees what’s inside my heart. And the sex is out of this world—which seems so insignificant compared to everything else, but for me, it’s a huge part of a successful relationship.

And that’s when it hits me. It is love. I absolutely love Austin. The feelings I have for him are powerful and real. The person he brings out in me is the person I’ve always wanted to be.

There’s nothing I want more than his happiness and success and being on that journey with him. Isn’t that part of love? Wanting to do everything possible to enhance the other person’s happiness. Growing together, yet allowing each person to do their own thing? I don’t know. I’ve never been in love, but I’ve always wanted that to be the way.

Mutual respect and enthusiasm for the other person’s career has never been a part of my life. My boyfriends were either competing with me or pushing me to work harder. And maybe that’s what some people need from their partner, but not me. I don’t want to live life in a competition.

Honestly, I’ve been trying to enjoy the relationship day by day, rather than rush into thoughts about the future. But when I do look forward, I can’t see my life without him. Not for one second.

When Austin comes over for dinner later that night, I’m excited to hear all about the contract. I can’t help but feel like I’ve been a huge black cloud over him recently. He’s been helping me cope with the fallout of my injury when he should be excited and focused on all the amazing things happening.

“Tell me more about the record contract. That’s exciting, right?” I ask.

“Yes. And no. On one hand, it’s awesome that RGA is interested, but on the other hand—there are a million reasons to say no.”

“Such as?”

“The biggest thing is Tim.” He hesitates. “I honestly don’t want to sign something this big with him. I don’t trust him.”

“Have you talked to him?”

Austin laughs. “Yup. We had a bit of a blowup when Nelson brought us all together. Basically, we told him that he had to get his shit together or we’d find a new bass player. We’ll see how that goes.”

I reach across the table and place my hand on his. “I’m sorry. I know that has to be hard to face, especially right now. Before the festival this summer and the tour coming up.”

“Thanks, Liz.” He smiles. “It had to be done, though. We’ve been letting him slide for too long. We’ll see how he responds.”

“Is Tim the only reservation you have about signing?” I ask.

“No. I don’t want to lose creative control. I don’t want to give up any control really,” Austin admits. “And I know we’ll have to. But I really don’t think a big label is right for us.”

“What does Fozzie think? Is he on the same page?”

“Yes. And no.” Austin rubs his face in his hands. “He agrees with me, but at the same time, I think we were both dazzled by the fact that a label liked us and our music enough to want to sign us. It used to be the goal, ya know? What if we turn it down and regret it?” He spears a piece of broccoli. “The industry has changed so much. I’d rather be able to release the music we want. Keep money in our pockets. We don’t need the label’s money. We can figure it out. That’s why we both work side jobs and save money. I’d rather keep working at The Market and doing mini tours to build our audience. We draw great crowds. We have a large following on social media. I think this tour coming up with Walk on Mars is gonna blow us up, Liz.”

“I agree,” I tell him. “Sounds like you already know what you want. No big label.”

“It’s not just my decision.”

“I know, but it sounds like Fozzie feels the same way. He’s a smart guy, too.”

“Really?” he asks, squinting at me.

I think back to Fozzie’s insightful explanation of his trampoline-man tattoo and nod. “Yeah.”

“You don’t work weekends anymore, right?” Austin asks.

“No. I’m off the call schedule and I only have a few more patients left. I can check on them during the week.”

“Do you want to come to Atlanta?”

“For the festival?” I ask. I’ve never been to a music festival. I don’t even know what to expect, but it sounds really fun.

“Yeah.” He nods.

“I’d love to!” I jump from the chair and plant myself in his lap. Then I throw my arms around him. He squeezes me tightly.

“This is going to be huge for us, Liz,” Austin whispers in my ear. “Nothing could be better than having you by my side the entire time.”

My heart swells. I’m so excited for Austin. It’s time to stop dwelling on my own problems and be there to support him in the biggest moment of his career.