Page 41 of Semantics

“Sneaky,” Jen replied as their waiter arrived with their salads.

Jen had gotten the steak salad, while Stella loved their marinated chicken one, and they focused on their food for a few minutes since they both had meetings soon and couldn’t stay too much longer.

“So, when you text her, will you make it just about the shirt, or are you going to tell her what you really want?”

“Maybe a combo of the two. I don’t know yet. I haven’t decided when to text her. And knowing Violet, she’s probably freaking out at work right about now, trying to just bottle up everything she’s feeling, pretending it didn’t happen. If I text her now, she’s going to say no to anything I suggest, even if it’s just her giving my shirt back.” Stella considered. “Actually, I think I’ll do that.”

“Huh?”

“Foreplay,” she said. “I bet it would make great foreplay.”

“You two are weird.” Jen laughed again. “You’re going to freak her out so much, she’ll offer to ship that shirt to you just so she doesn’t have to see you again.”

“Oh, there’s a chance still that she might want Cerebral for her company. Maybe I go that route first.”

“I wouldn’t. That’s a serious decision that she needs to make for her business, Stella.”

“Yeah, you’re right,” she agreed and took another sip of her water.

An hour later, Stella was back at her desk, responding to a few emails and messages. Then, she picked up her phone and thought about how best to message Violet to achieve her desired outcome, which was another night like the previous one and maybe getting her shirt back, but she didn’t really care much about the shirt.

Stella Ross: Hey, I had a great time last night. I didn’t say that when you had to run out this morning, but I wanted to make sure you knew. If you want to get together again, I’d be down. Your handprints are still on my floor.

She smirked as she hit send, figuring that made things pretty clear. She had enjoyed their night. She wanted another one like it again. When there was no quick reply, she assumed that Violet was busy, so she put her phone down and got to work herself, but by the end of her workday, she still hadn’t gotten a response.

“Maybe you overplayed your hand there,” Stella said to herself and set her phone down again.

CHAPTER 13

Stella Ross: Hey, I had a great time last night. I didn’t say that when you had to run out this morning, but I wanted to make sure you knew. If you want to get together again, I’d be down. Your handprints are still on my floor.

Violet stared at that text message again. She’d read it at least a dozen times since it came in around lunch, and she still had no idea how to respond to it. She’d thought of sending a quick reply letting Stella know that it was one time only, or a mistake, and it shouldn’t have happened at all, and she’d also thought of messaging Stella back telling her that she’d only left so fast because of her purse being in the car overnight, and that she’d definitely consider another night like the one they’d just had together.

“Hey, are you okay?” Sarai asked.

In their friend group, Sarai was the friend whom any of them could talk to about anything, and she was so free of judgment that none of them ever felt bad about telling her something that the others might chastise them for. Enya was like that, too, in a way, but she was generally so in her own head, which contained more languages than Violet even knew existed, that they all generally tried to avoid bothering her with their problems. Arlowe didn’t judge, either, but it was mostly because she didn’t often take the time to really listen. She’d take what was given, and if it was only the surface-level stuff, she’d give advice when asked or just offer it on her own, and she’d move on and dive into the code, which was her favorite place to be. If Arlowe could actually climb inside the code for real, Violet suspected that she would. With Sarai, though, when she asked someone if they were okay, she really wanted to know, and if she could help, she wanted to do that, too.

“I’m okay, yeah. I’m just a little tired,” she said, locking her phone and setting it down on the kitchen table. “I was thinking about ordering pizza tonight. Are Enya or Arlowe going out? Do you know? Are you going out? I guess I should ask that, too.”

“I, sadly, have no plans. Arlowe is glued to her screen as usual. Enya is trying to read through all that Cerebral stuff you gave her in her room, so I don’t think she’s going out, either.”

“The technical stuff?”

“All the stuff that’s actually understandable for us mere mortals, unlike our code goddess currently in the garage.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know. Why does Enya do anything? She’s weird. And why are you so tired? Does it have anything to do with the fact that you didn’t come home last night?”

“What?” Violet asked and looked down at the table in front of her.

“You’re aware that my bedroom faces the street, right? You left to go out for whatever reason, and by the time we all went to bed, you still weren’t back, but you’re an adult, so none of us worried. When I woke up this morning, though, I saw you pull into the driveway. You looked… well, frazzled, Vi. And what was with that shirt?”

“What was wrong with my shirt?”

“When you left here last night, you weren’t wearing it,” Sarai pointed out. “You were dressed like you were going to a business meeting, and we all assumed that you were and just didn’t want to tell us about it for some reason. Arlowe suggested that maybe you were going on an interview, which was why you were acting so cagey about it.”

“An interview? For what?”