Chapter Eleven
Erin sat at the corner table in Polly’s Café, her earbuds in, coffee to the left of her laptop, and blueberry scone to her right. If this didn’t scream “I’m hunkered down and ready to kick some job-hunting booty today,” she didn’t know what did. Two deep sips of her dark roast and she stretched her neck from side to side, preparing herself for filling out another twenty applications today. Or maybe one, if she was lucky.
Forget about the hiring freeze. There had to be a position for her. Right? The thought of putting her name in the substitute-teacher pool sent a shiver up her spine. If it was anything like student teaching, where the kids tried to duct-tape her to the chair because she was new, she wanted nothing to do with that. While at Stephens, she’d walked into the teachers’ lounge and found subs crying into their packed lunches more than a few times. Yeah, no thanks.
Once she had her country-music station situated, she clicked into the job page for the California school districts. Erin groaned and swiped her thumb over her brow, staring at the page. One new position open at an elementary school. Zero for middle school.
Just for kicks, she opened up Craigslist and searched for teaching jobs. A few preschool jobs popped up, but they were all positions she was overqualified for.
“Any luck over there?” Sloane sat across from her, wiping bagel crumbs from her Smurf scrubs. The Smurfs matched the exact shade of her hair.
“Maybe if I want to be a plumber or nuclear engineer.”
She fisted her hands through her hair. “I think it’d probably be easier for me to go back to school and get a new degree than find a job now.”
“Yes, we all know the job market is crap.” Sloane plopped an extra scone onto Erin’s plate. She shifted in her chair, leaning in toward Erin. “But if anyone can find a job, it’s you. Hell, you made it out of Portland, even though your mom tried to chain you to the house. You have willpower for miles,” she said.
Erin swallowed past the lump in her throat. It wasn’t that the statement wasn’t true—because she had always wanted out of Portland—but there was more to it. She would have stuck it out here if her mom hadn’t been so suffocating.
But when she’d found “Erin’s Ten-Year Plan”—filled out not by her, she might add—she had realized her mom would have never let her out of her clutches if she’d stayed. So she’d bolted, racing down the I-5 corridor to Stanford faster than she could say, “Go Cardinals.”
“This is just all I’ve known.” She swallowed hard. Even if she’d been in different cities, her career had always been a constant. The thought of doing anything else was terrifying. “What am I supposed to do if I fail?”
“You do what everyone else does. Pick yourself up, binge-watch Netflix, and then make something else work.” Her cheek hollowed as she bit the inside of it. “When Brian and I broke up, I thought I’d never date again. I thought he was it for me, ya know?”
Erin nodded. Sloane hadn’t talked about Brian in more than a year. They’d dated from Erin’s freshman year of college up until last year when Sloane had found him in bed with another woman.
“Well, I’m sick of spending my Friday nights with Jane the Virgin.”
“Does that mean you found someone?”
“Not yet. I joined one of those dating apps.”
Erin raised a brow. “You mean the ones where you have to swipe left or right? Or the kind with the sappy bios that sound like an erectile-dysfunction commercial?” she asked.
“Swiping. I wasn’t about to spend thirty minutes on a bio no one reads.” Sloane flicked a crumb at Erin. “And for your information, I have a blind date set up next week.”
“Just have mace ready in case he’s a total creep.”
“Girl, you’re getting a call if that happens.” She took another bite of scone, talking with her mouth full. “How was the wedding?”
“Eventful.” Flashes of Jake’s fingers sliding up her thigh had her sputtering on her coffee.
“Does this mean you’ve finally bagged the illustrious Jake Bennett?”
Erin flung her sugar packet at Sloane. “It’s not like that. We’ve been friends for so long, I honestly don’t think he’d ever see me that way.” Even if there were flashes. “It’s probably for the best anyway.” At least that was what she was telling herself. “Now if only there’d be some damn job openings.”
“Seriously, why don’t you look here? I know Portland is such a horrible place to live”—sarcasm dripped off her words—“but I’d love to have my best friend back.”
“I’m not meant for Portland life. I need the sun and to be a couple of hours from nice, warm beaches.” The beaches in San Francisco were a lot like the Oregon coast. She wasn’t going to step foot in there without a wet suit. But from Santa Cruz south, she’d lie out and enjoy the white sand and the sun’s rays.
“What is this sun you speak of?”
“Your vitamin-D deficiency has clouded your judgment.” She looked down at the coffee. “Plus, I applied to a school the other day that could be the one. It’s a prep school, downtown in the city. I looked at their website, and it seems like a really good fit. If they decide to interview me.”
Sloane eyed her over her coffee cup. “This is a job and not an arranged marriage, right?”
“Shut it.” There was nothing wrong with taking job prospects seriously. She had to if she wanted her damn apartment back.
“I’m just saying you could get a teaching job anywhere.”
“Not anywhere. Just the state of California, unless I wanted to drop a ton of money on licensure tests.”
Sure, she could pay the extra money, but what would be the point? She didn’t want to live here. Not that she didn’t love her mom, but Erin had been independent for years. Her mom had finally taken the hint that she was somewhat proficient in adulting. Mostly. The occasional “Here’s a few twenties to pad your bank account” came in the mail, sure, but she stashed the money away in a rainy-day fund.
“I’m sure your mom is in mourning.”
“She’s come to terms.” Although, by the way she had decorated her room . . . maybe not so much.
Madison slid in moments later, tossing her purse over Erin to the spot between her and the wall.
“What did I miss?” Her red curls were piled in frizzy disarray on top of her head. Madison was the embodiment of boho chic. She’d been wearing peasant tops and flowy skirts long before they had come in style, and she was the type who would keep wearing them, even when the fad wore off. “I just had one hell of a shoot at the waterfront. Caught the perfect window of the sunrise.”
Madison had started her own photography business three years ago, and just last year she had been named the top wedding photographer in Portland.
The three of them had been friends ever since kindergarten. They met up at least twice a year to rent a house on Lake Tahoe. Social media, group texting, and Skype dates were an essential part of their friendship.
“Just the fact that Erin still vehemently denies her Portland heritage,” Sloane said.
“Do not.” Okay, that was exactly what she was doing. She really liked that she was a three-hour flight away.
“I want to hear about the wedding,” Madison said. “We barely got to talk last night.”
Thoughts of Jake’s hands flickered in Erin’s mind. “It was pretty. Josie made a beautiful bride.”
Sloane snapped her fingers. “Details, woman. You gave us nothing at the party. What’s the deal with Jake?”
“Yeah, why was he so spooked at the party?” Madison chimed in, stealing a piece of bagel off Sloane’s plate and plopping it into her mouth.
What was this? Interrogation hour?
“Ugh. Can we not mention that?” Her face fell in her hands, and she let out a sigh. “It was the most awkward situation ever.” Maybe she was destined to use a dating service. She couldn’t even get the proper reaction out of a man she was trying to bed. Jesus, did people even talk like that? Maybe she needed more help than she thought.
“Because you guys hooked up?” Sloane asked.
“No!”
“Liar.”
“Why does everyone think I’m lying?”
“Because Jake is . . . well, Jake, and you look like you walked off the set of The O.C.”
“I can’t tell if you’re saying my style is outdated or if I should take that as a compliment.”
Madison shrugged. “You could stand to lose the cardigans.”
“Seriously, why does everyone hate on the cardigans so much?”
“Because you’re twenty-eight, not eighty.” Madison tore off a piece of Erin’s scone and plopped it in her mouth. “So back to Jake. What happened?”
“I don’t know. I thought we were getting somewhere, and then—” She waved her hand and sighed. “Then I was me, and things got weird.” She decided to leave out the awkward porn station.
“Are you going to see him again?”
After their cringe-worthy encounter last night? Seeing him again was at a firm 0 percent. “Probably not. It’s for the best anyway. I’m leaving in a few weeks.”
Madison frowned. “Don’t remind us. I want to be in my delusional bubble that you’re staying forever.”
“I say you call him. He’s obviously into you. Why not capitalize on that while you have the chance?” Sloane said.
“And say what?” She brought her fingers up to her ear, miming a telephone. “Hey, Jake, so nice chatting with you. I know you said you didn’t want to see me again, but would you like to bone me in my old bedroom right down the hall from my mom’s room?”
Sloane placed her hand over Erin’s. “Honey, we might need an intervention on your flirting skills if that’s all you got.”
“I know how to flirt.” She flicked a crumb at Sloane. Normally when it came to men, this wouldn’t be an issue—whether it was because she didn’t have time for dating or the fact that she didn’t feel the ticking time clock that her mom so often brought up. She was happy being single. She’d had a few long-term relationships since college, but Erin always found some glaring issue.
“Yeah, we know. It’s landed you Tom the Tax Man and Drinking Fountain Dude.”
“Can’t forget Taco Bell Dude.”
“In-N-Out,” Erin corrected.
“Whatever. Just as bad. You don’t make someone pay for their meal on their birthday,” Sloane said.
So what if a couple of her previous boyfriends had either zero humor or an irrational fear of public drinking fountains? Everyone had issues. Hers came in the form of planner stickers and washi tape. And spiral notebooks. Her office-supply love was strong.
“In-N-Out guy aside, Tom had really nice calves. He went mountain biking on the weekends. And we all know that drinking fountains are gross.”
They both looked at her.
She groaned. Since when did she advocate for complete duds? “Oh God, I totally suck at dating.”
“I mean, you could say your house is on fire, and you need a big, strong firefighter to help put it out,” Sloane suggested.
Erin snorted. “Yeah, somehow I don’t think that’d work.” Knowing her luck, the whole fire department would be knocking down her door. On second thought, that wasn’t a half-bad idea . . .
“Don’t listen to Sloane,” Madison said. “Why don’t you just text him to hang out?”
“You guys were at the same party as me, right? The one where he said it’d be best to stay away from me and left within five minutes of being there?”
“I don’t know. Some guys are clueless.”
But Jake wasn’t clueless. He’d been straightforward in explaining that he felt awkward around her and didn’t want to ruin his friendship with Reece. And she wasn’t going to come between a bromance. Time to turn this interrogation in another direction.
“Well, Sloane’s going on a blind date.” Bomb dropped. And now the attention could be taken off her for a millisecond.
Madison’s head reared back as she regarded Sloane. “It isn’t from that hookup app, is it?”
“You act like this isn’t the twenty-first century. I’m allowed to be okay with hookups.”
“Yeah, but you really want to pick from the general pool of guys who send unsolicited dick pics?” Erin asked.
“I’m one dick pic away from giving up men completely,” Madison said.
“Preach.” Maybe once she moved back to California, she’d find a nice guy there. Someone like Jake.