Page 27 of That Next Moment
I had told myself a few times, now that I was going to fix my life, that I needed to get it in order. And today, it felt like Ophelia was part of the equation. For the first time in months, I felt warmth again, like I could pull it all together, as if my life wasn’t entirely in shambles. Watching her do something she loved, the passion that filled the room, pulled me back to what Icouldbe what Iwantedto be again.
“Clay.” Milo caught my attention. “I’m heading out. You coming, or are you walking home?”
“Yeah, yeah. . .” I stood, bringing myself back to the present, ignoring the luring thoughts that were in my brain. “Unless Elliot wants to give me a ride.” I half chuckled.
“I live on the opposite side of Portland,” Elliot replied, digging in his back pocket for his wallet, placing a hundred on the table. I raised my eyebrows, missing the days I could do that. “But why don’t you go ahead, Milo? Clay will meet you at the truck. I need to talk to him about something.”
Milo cocked his head and raised an eyebrow, giving me a look of concern.
Elliot waved him off. “It’s groomsman stuff. Now go.”
Once Milo was out of earshot, Elliot turned back to me, placing a hand on my shoulder.
“Don't be upset with Milo, but he filled me in on everything today. He thought I needed to know what was going on, so I know you lost more than you're letting on.” He paused, looking over his shoulder at Milo, who was staring down at his phone with a stupid grin, no doubt texting Madeline. “I just wanted to let you know I’m here. If you ever need to get away from Milo or just talk, I’m here to listen. I don't do much, so I’m always around.”
I chuckled. “I’m not one to talk, and you don’t do much? Milo said you own a business.”
“That's the great thing about owning it. I make my schedule. We don't have to talk. We can just hang out and play some videos games or—”
“Well, if you know more thanyou’reletting on, then you know I had to sell my gaming systems.”
Elliot narrowed his eyes and let out a small hum. “Good thing I have them then, huh?” He smiled and dropped his hand from my shoulder. “My door is always open. Okay, man?”
He gave me his phone number, and then we left, meeting up with Milo by his truck before we all said goodbye and went our separate ways. I grabbed my phone and opened a new text thread, pulling up Ophelia’s number.
Something had to give, right? We already agreed to start over. I just had to stop opening my dumb mouth. I had to remember that we weren’t in the past anymore. We were two different people. I had to make this work one way or another if I wanted the warmth again.
Clay: We’re starting over, right? No more mentioning the past. You in?
I held onto my phone, waiting to see those three little dots. They weren’t coming. The message switched to read, but she wasn’t responding. I took a deep breath and looked out the windshield. I wasn't sure how much time had passed, but once my phone vibrated in my hand, I had never unlocked it so fast.
Ophelia: I’m in.
Chapter Twelve
-Ophelia-
Chord Overstreet crooned in the background as I bent over my desk, Carter taking pictures as I drew. The music helped get me in the winter mood, trying to find the right designs that I knew JoAnn would like in her store, and yet, the only things I wanted to concentrate on were gowns.
Clay got it in my head that I needed to speak up, tell her that I wanted more than just seasonal lines, thatIcould be more than seasonal lines. I wasn’t feeling these drawings, and with Madeline's wedding gown pinned to the mannequin, ready to be sewn and staring me in the face, all I wanted to do was gowns. And yet, I had to pretend I was into this design for the purpose of Instagram.
I inhaled, throwing my pencil down in front of me, stretching my arms over my head. Carter lowered his camera and looked at the backscreen before flipping it over to take his SD card out.
"Got what you need?" I asked.
"For now, I think. You're very photogenic,” he said bluntly, not even looking up from his camera.
Chuckling, I grabbed my phone and unlocked it, instantly opening Instagram. The boutique’s account had almost over five thousand followers and only three posts. The first was an introduction of me, standing in front of Madeline’s house, a giant smile on my face as I struck a pose, letting everyone know that a boutique was opening and that I was “so excited” to get started on everything. The next was Madeline and me going through the designs and picking her dress, and then just me and a mannequin, Clay’s hand holding the pin cushion as I worked on the gown.
I focused in on that pin cushion, noticing how he was holding it so it seemed like it was floating, trying his hardest not to be in the photo. As my eyes tried to find his fingers, a notification popped on. One new follower. I tapped on the little heart, and my eyes went wide.
Clayton Nolan has started following you.
It took less than a second for me to tap on his name. He hadn’t posted on his feed since last Christmas, a congratulatory post to Milo and Madeline, featuring an old photo from college, his arm right around Milo’s neck with his tongue sticking out between his teeth. I chuckled at the photo and scrolled back up, the bluefollowbackbutton right under his profile picture.
I tapped it, locked my phone screen, and set it down.
I inhaled, unsure why that had me rattled.