“Still, it’s not cool. I got an office here because I wanted to be surrounded by other creative people and make friends and learn from them.” Andi cocked a thumb toward the door. “Have you seen some of the stuff people are working on here? Especially some of the women?”
Hollyn shook her head and sipped her coffee, trying to quell her tics, which took all her concentration. She ended up getting whipped cream on her nose.
“Just scroll through the building directory and read some of the bios. We have some kick-ass ladies here. And what are we doing for each other?” she asked.
Hollyn swiped at her nose. “Uh…”
“We’re walking by each other in the hallways, saying inane shit like ‘cute top’ or ‘good morning’ or ‘what’s that weird smell in the break room?’—which, by the way, what is that weird smell in the break room?”
Hollyn’s lips parted. “Um—”
Andi flicked her hand. “Doesn’t matter. My point is, we’re wasting opportunities everywhere.”
“Opportunities.”
“Yes. To get to know each other. To network. To learn from each other. Like, what do you do?” Andi asked. “Your directory entry says freelance writer, but writer of what?”
Hollyn took a long sip of coffee and swallowed slowly. She could do this. She could chat with a coworker. I am an intelligent woman with things to say, goddammit! Tell her you do local entertainment reviews. Tell her you analyze new and old movies and tell people why they’re worth watching or worth avoiding. Tell her you write think pieces for online magazines. “I write about movies and entertainment.”
Riveting. She should get an Academy Award for her mad small-talk skills.
“See,” Andi said, slapping the arm of the chair like Hollyn had said something brilliant. “That sounds interesting. I’d like to know more about that. Which is why I’ve decided WorkAround needs its own podcast, and you should be on it.”
Hollyn made her bad-smell face. “Wait, what?”
“We’re all women running our own businesses or freelancing. We have a lot we could offer people. A few of us can rotate hosting duties, and then we can interview each other and talk about different topics—what it means to be a woman working in the gig economy or running a business, what it’s like working in a space like this, what are our biggest challenges. That kind of thing.”
Hollyn stared at her. “A podcast.”
“Yes. You could be my first guest.”
Hollyn snort-laughed, unable to stop the sound from escaping. She pressed her fingers over her mouth.
“What?” Andi asked, head tilted like a confused puppy.
Something about Andi was so disarming that Hollyn forgot herself for a second, forgot to be nervous. “You have literally zero chance of getting me to talk on a podcast. I can barely talk to people in real life much less with a microphone in my face. I’m sweating just talking to you.”
The confession slipped out before she could pull it back, and her stomach dropped. She never admitted things like that to strangers.
Andi’s eyebrows disappeared beneath her blunt bangs.
“I mean,” Hollyn said, scrambling to recover, embarrassment rushing up. “It’s—”
“Oh my God,” Andi said, putting a hand to her chest and standing up. “I’m so sorry. Here I am going on and on and coming at you with all my blabbing. You want to be alone. That’s why you didn’t want to get coffee yesterday, right? And here I am, invading your office like some mini-Godzilla, forcing the issue.”
Hollyn’s nose wrinkled, her tics winning the battle. “No, it’s just…”
“I’m assuming stuff I shouldn’t,” Andi filled in with a nod. “I have a bad habit of that. Just because I want to make more friends here doesn’t mean everyone does. I’m sure you wanted a private office because you wanted privacy, and here I roll through trying to be all ‘Kumbaya, let’s all bond as lady bosses.’”
“Andi—”
Andi walked toward the door. “I swear I won’t barge in again. I don’t want to be that person talking nonstop on the plane to the person trying to read a book.” She turned her head and smirked. “Well, I’ve been that person. I don’t want to be her again. I’m evolving!”
Andi put her hand on the doorknob to walk out.
“Wait.” The protest fell past Hollyn’s lips.
Andi turned, gaze curious. “Yeah?”
Hollyn took a deep breath and set down her coffee, emboldened by her small success with Jasper earlier and probably the remnants of her anxiety pill. “Talking to strangers freaks me out, and there’s no way I can do a podcast, but I’m not here to be alone. Maybe if we become…not strangers, I won’t be so…” She swept her hand in front of her, indicating herself. “Like this every time we talk.”
Andi stared at her for a moment, and then a little smile curved her mouth. “Really?”
“Yes.”
Andi’s smile went full grin, and she clasped her hands together at her chest. “Did we just start a lifelong friendship?” She gave an exaggerated nod. “I think we did.”
Hollyn laughed at her boldness. “You name your future children on first dates, don’t you?”
Andi’s smile didn’t abate. She pointed a finger Hollyn’s way. “Just wait. I’ll totally be a bridesmaid at your wedding. This is happening. I can feel it.”
Something taut and tangled unwound a little in Hollyn’s chest. Andi was too disarming to stay nervous around. “That wedding invitation may be a ways off. I’m as smooth with guys as I am with coworkers.”
Andi gave her a sly look. “I don’t know, Ms. Gets-Her-Coffee-Hand-Delivered. You may be smoother than you think.”
Hollyn scoffed. “Not hardly.”
“We’ll see.” Andi waggled her fingers in a little wave. “I’ll let you recover from my full frontal attack for now, but we’ll chat soon.”
Hollyn nodded. “Sounds great.”
Andi walked out of the office, shutting the door behind her and leaving Hollyn with a smile and her hand-delivered coffee. She looked down at Jasper’s drawing again, a warmth having nothing to do with the decaf moving through her.
Maybe it was finally happening. She’d put herself out there like Mary Leigh and Cal had been encouraging her to do, and the world hadn’t crumbled. Andi hadn’t laughed in her face when she’d admitted she was nervous talking to people. And Jasper hadn’t held it against her that she’d been rude yesterday.