City Love(69)

“Sadie,” Austin whispers.

“Yeah?” I whisper back.

“I’m falling in love with you.”


“I’m falling in love with you, too.”

This is what every girl dreams of. To bask in adoration from the person she loves. What we have really is a dream come true.

I don’t want to settle for less than what my heart desires in my fantasy life. And I definitely don’t want to settle in my real life, either.





THIRTY-TWO

DARCY


YOU KNOW HOW MOST WEEKS Friday cannot come soon enough? That was especially true this week. I could not possibly have more reading to plow through or papers to write or facts to memorize. It’s astonishing I have time to do things like sleep and take showers. Taking a year off has its consequences. Trying to catch up on basic requirements isn’t as basic as I’d presumed.

Maybe these classes would be more interesting if they actually pertained to my future career. Not that I know what my future career is. I don’t even know what I want to major in. A career that lets me flaunt my social butterfly tendencies and solid people skills would be awesome. I’m hoping enlightenment will strike at some point this summer so I can officially start college with at least some idea of where my education is going. Going with the flow is significantly less fun when Daddy pressures me to make the big decision. He called me this morning to drill me again about where my life is going. My argument is that college is for discovering yourself and what you want to do with your life. Why should teenagers be forced to decide what the rest of their life will look like? Daddy’s not feeling my argument at all. But I get that you have to start taking specialized classes sophomore year. It makes sense to take ones that will support your career.

So yeah. TGIF. My determination to whip up some serious summer fun is stronger than ever. No amount of work can prevent me from having a blast this weekend. On my way out to meet up with Jude, I swing by Sadie’s room to say bye.

“Have fun with your hot boyfriend,” I say.

Sadie is in a frenzy of getting ready. Clothes are scattered everywhere. I feel for her. Having Austin come over for the weekend is super exciting, but also super nerve-racking.

“Have you seen my bronzer?” she asks. “Forget it—no time!”

“Your makeup looks perfect,” I reassure her. “Not many girls can pull off the natural look as flawlessly as you do.”

“Oh, you are a good friend to lie. Keep them coming.”

“I’m serious. Austin is a lucky boy.”

“So is Jude.” Sadie yanks off the top she tried on. She grabs a dress from her bed. I leave before I distract her any more from her race against the clock.

Jude and I have the whole night to do whatever we want. We just saw each other three days ago, but it feels like way longer. I haven’t given him the HELLO shirt yet. Tonight is so gorgeous we decided to walk around the West Village before dinner (for which I have to treat, as per the bet I lost last time), hitting this all-ages lounge called Welcome to the Johnsons, and then seeing where the night takes us. I didn’t want Jude to be carrying around a shirt the whole time.

“So what have you been up to?” Jude asks as we round the corner onto West 10th Street.

“Not much.” A flash of hooking up with Random Boy at the Gap strikes me like lightning. “Classes. Hanging with my girls. Going out. What about you?”

“Working the park as much as I can. That’s how I roll in the summer. Later sunset means more performance time. It’s been a really good season so far. The park’s been super busy. I don’t remember it being as busy last year.”

“That’s hot. More people are discovering you.”

“Not much to discover. I’m just happy to have such a fun gig.”

We pass a townhouse with a silver swing in the ground-floor picture window.

“Yo, they have an entire swing in their house,” Jude says. “They’re like, ‘We don’t have a yard, but f*ck that.’”

There’s a woman standing outside taking pictures of the swing. I ask her for the backstory.

“It’s an art installation,” the woman explains. “I know the owner of the house. He has two little girls who play on the swing. They all live upstairs. He switches the piece every few months.”

“How badass is that?” I say. “Can you imagine being able to showcase your own art where you live? For anyone walking by to see?”

“It’s pretty amazing down here,” she agrees. “I live up in Harlem. The Village is like a whole other world.”

“Do you like Harlem?”

“It’s affordable. That’s where I’m at.” She tilts her head back, gazing up at the top of the townhouse where part of a tree is visible. “Making a living as an artist plus having gallery space right in your own home? That’s an incredible achievement anywhere, much less pulling it off in the most expensive neighborhood in Manhattan.”

We say goodbye and continue down West 10th Street. Conversations like this make me thankful for my financial situation all over again. I have access to major parental financial supplementation. Not a day goes by where I’m not grateful for my luck. I could have just as easily been born into a poor family. That’s why I enjoy treating my friends and spreading the wealth. Rosanna keeps protesting over the clothes and accessories I gave her. But I don’t care. She can protest all she wants. There’s no way I’m taking any of that stuff back. The clothes look amazing on her. She’s a good person who deserves to be treated. And she needs nicer things to ride the D train. He’s taking her to the most exclusive restaurants and venues. You can’t do Butter rocking your best Kmart/Payless ensemble.