Love at First Stoplight

Cami

“So, let me get this straight, a hot guy you saw twice was practically flirting with you, and you didn’t do anything? At all?” Hugh repeated for the nth time.

“Yes, Hugh, I made a fool out of myself twice, and no, he wasn’t flirting. What did you expect me to do?” I asked him as I stabbed the tub of ice cream with my spoon.

We were currently curled up in the living room watching reruns of How I Met Your Mother while I recounted to Hugh my earlier experience with Nick—the “hot guy,” as my best friend insisted on calling him.

“I don’t know? Shag him?” he asked while he moved his eyebrows suggestively at me.

“What is it with you and the word shag?” I asked, exasperated.

“Oh, I’m sorry, do you prefer copulate? ~Fornicate~? Or good ol’ ~hanky-panky~?” he teased.

“Oh my God, stop! I get it, okay? I don’t know if I should be amazed or scared at your wide range of vocabulary for sex.” I raised my eyebrows at him.

“I work at a men’s magazine, remember. I ought to know a lot of words regarding that subject matter,” he answered.

Hugh was a writer at a famous men’s magazine. He was good at writing ever since high school, which landed him a wonderful internship.

It also helped that he was as good-looking as the male models they cast.

“Yeah, yeah. Spare me the lecture, oh wise one,” I said as Hugh laughed at me. “I’m serious though, I don’t want to hear any more.”

Hugh laughed more as we settled down to actual watching. I put my empty tub on the coffee table next to the other empty ones, thinking how pathetic I must have looked.

“Stop it, Cami, whatever you’re thinking, just stop,” Hugh said without looking in my direction.

I stared at my best friend, wondering how lucky I was that he still stuck with me all these years. I started ugly crying on the couch and hugged Hugh, staining his shirt with my tears.

“Shh,” Hugh said, patting my head. “Everything’s going to be all right,” he said encouragingly as I drifted off to sleep.

***

My whole body hurt. Opening my eyes, I was greeted by the harsh sunlight, and I closed them again. Getting up from the sofa, I noticed the living room was clean, with no evidence of my emotional breakdown.

In addition to Hugh’s many other qualities, he was a clean freak. At times it was beneficial for me, but other times it was pure hell.

“Hugh?”

“I’m here!” he shouted from the kitchen.

I made my way toward the kitchen and sat down on the kitchen counter. Hugh handed me a cup of coffee as he took a sip of his.

“Are you going somewhere?” I asked, eyeing his clothes. It was a Saturday, and I knew he didn’t have work on the weekends.

“The boss called me in, change of schedules for this big shot CEO,” he explained while he drank his coffee.

“Well, that sucks,” I commented.

“Yeah...but I heard he’s hot!”

“And that’s a perfectly good enough reason to go?” I questioned.

“Of course! Anyway, I have to go. See you later!” he said. He put his mug in the sink and took his keys from the counter, heading out the door.

I rolled my eyes at him. Finishing my coffee, I hopped off the counter and went to check my phone.

I found it already plugged in the corner. I mentally thanked my best friend for being the responsible one. I took out the charger and headed to my bedroom.

As I reached the final step on the stairs, I scrolled down to find a message that made me almost miss a step.

Café de Fabiola was one of the most famous French cafés here in Manhattan.

It wasn’t that big—in fact, the restaurant itself only consisted of four servers and two chefs. It was owned by Esme Fabiola, who was a lovely old lady who migrated here.

“Oh my God! Is this really happening?” I shakily reached out for the stair railing, afraid that I might tumble down the stairs. It certainly wouldn’t be the first time.

I called my best friend, and after a few rings, he finally picked up.

“HUGH! OMG! You won’t believe it!” I happily shouted.

“What? Did the cat die?” he replied.

“Wait—what? We have a cat?”

“No, just kidding, dearie, what is it?”

“Okay, you know the café I’ve been wanting to work for, right?” I asked.

“Yeah, what about it?”

“I got an interview for it! It’s on Monday!” I replied cheerfully.

“Oh my God, Cami! That’s great news! We have to celebrate later!”

“I know... at least something worked out for me,” I said, sitting down on the steps.

“You deserve it, Cami. I’ll finish with work ASAP so we can start this party soon!”

“All right, see you later,” I said as he ended the phone call.

I closed my eyes and laid my head beside the wall.

I hope this really works out. I can’t afford to screw this chance up.

Getting up from the stairs, I made my way to my bathroom and started on the tub. I poured a few drops of oil and let the tub fill up.

When I was done with my bath, I let my hair air dry, since I had the whole day before Hugh and I went out.

I spent the day baking different desserts because I was afraid that if I did nothing, my thoughts would automatically go back to my sad, pathetic breakup. And I didn’t want to overthink it.

I guess the whole day went by because I heard the front door opening to reveal Hugh with a big smile.

“I’m guessing the CEO was really hot?” I asked him.

“I don’t think ‘hot’ covers it. He has the looks and the body all right, but the guy was smart and witty,” he explained as he took a seat on the bar stool.

“Oh! And he’s super young for someone who’s super successful already. He’s twenty-eight, single, and gorgeous, I felt like the whole crew was swooning,” Hugh said as I offered him a cookie.

“So going to work on a Saturday was totally worth it, I presume?” I teased.

“Girl, I’d totes go to work on a Saturday and Sunday for him,” he replied.

“So where are we going later?” I asked, changing the topic.

Hugh’s eyes lit up at the sound of going out. He was a huge fan of the party scene, while I wasn’t. Well, not that much.

“It’s a new bar that opened downtown. I think it’s called Zeno or something.”

“Well, that’s cool…,” I said, not really excited to go to a club.

“Come on, Cami! We hardly ever go on nights like this… Let’s get you all glammed up and find a hot guy you can release your frustrations on!”

He clapped his hands and excitedly dragged me upstairs.

Maybe it wasn’t such a bad idea. I needed the distraction, and what better way than to go to a club, make stupid decisions, and act the way young people my age should act. However the hell that is.

Hugh pushed me toward the bathroom and shut me in.

“Get a shower while I look for your dress!” Hugh’s muffled voice sounded from the other side of the door.

“Yes, Mom,” I replied, rolling my eyes at him even though I knew he couldn’t see it.

“I heard that! And don’t you roll your eyes at me, missy!”

Count on my best friend to have super hearing.

After a few minutes, I stepped out of the shower and into my room wearing a fluffy robe. And boy, did my eyes almost fall out.

On the bed was my sexiest and arguably the sluttiest lingerie in my wardrobe. It was a gift from my mother, who thought I needed more “spice” in my life.

It was black, lace, and well, almost see-through.

“I am not wearing that,” I said in protest.

“Yes, you are!” Hugh countered.

“No! I will certainly not!”

Hugh won the argument, and I ended up in my stripper underwear.

I felt slightly uncomfortable since I wasn’t really that comfortable with my body. I had rolls when I sat up and my hips were too wide.

“Now put this on!” Hugh said as he held up a very red, very revealing piece of clothing.

“I feel like you’re my pimp, Hugh. You’re literally dressing me up like a hooker.”

“Shut up, Cami. I know what I’m doing,” he said.

With a dejected sigh, I put on the tight-fitting dress that had thin straps, a fitted bodice, and a slit on the right leg.

Hugh refused to let me see my reflection as he guided me toward the vanity table and started on my hair and makeup.

Since I had wavy hair, he curled it into big waves and did a subtle smokey eye with matching red lips. Hugh knew I was a fan of keeping it simple and natural.

After an hour or so of pampering, Hugh was finally done. He finally let me see my reflection, and what I saw was an utter surprise.

I actually, sincerely, felt beautiful. I wasn’t on the narcissistic side, but damn. Hugh worked a miracle.

He was standing behind me, wiping a fake tear as he appreciated his work.

“Wow... thanks, Hugh.”

“You’re welcome, boo.” He gave me a side hug.

“Now come on, it’s time to partaay!” He cheerfully said as I felt the sudden excitement of setting myself free that night.

Just to forget.