The morning of the consult, Adriana descended the stairs with heavy footsteps, her nerves already creating a giant knot in the pit of her stomach. She found Cara buried in the fridge, her head out of sight, a curious Steven watching closely.
"Adriana, can I use some of your milk? I'll pay you back—oh wait." Cara stood up holding up an empty carton, raising a brow at Adriana in mock disapproval. "I appreciate your commitment to the illusion of being able to afford a full fridge," she said dryly, humming as she returned the carton to the shelf and abandoned the milk search, continuing her search for breakfast food.
"You're allergic to cow protein," Adriana commented distractedly, her mind barely present as she tried not to fixate on the upcoming meeting. This was how it usually went: Adriana pretending to be calm until the dam broke and she spilled every anxious thought to Cara.
Cara shrugged as she pulled out a carton of eggs. "That's how you know it's a real allergy. The lactose-intolerant crowd consume dairy as if they're out to prove a point. Honestly, they're kind of my heroes. I aspire to be like them."
Adriana chuckled, but it was half-hearted. The moment of lightness passed quickly, and she felt the familiar wave of panic building again. Her breathing was becoming shallow and quick, "I can't do this, Cara," she exclaimed, eyes wide and tears threatening to fall, "I'm going to show up all shaky and weird. And it's 30 degrees out…wait, shit, what if the Uber doesn't have air conditioning like last time? Should I bring a spare top?" She groaned, rubbing her hands down her face. "And I can never find my way around those buildings. Why did I think I can handle this?"
Cara, who had just cracked an egg into the pan, paused. She calmly turned off the stove and set the pan aside. Adriana could feel her heart racing, her mind jumping from one worry to the next. Was the smell of eggs going to cling to her clothes? Had she remembered to put on deodorant? How was she supposed to keep it together when everything felt like it was teetering on the edge?
"Adriana," Cara said, her tone gentle but firm as she turned to reassure her friend, "You've done this before. You've impressed clients. They keep coming back to you because you're good at what you do. Youknowyou can do this." She glanced at Adriana's outfit, a playful smile tugging at her lips. "One day, I'm going to dress you myself, and it'll be a revelation."
Adriana's eyes widened slightly in worry, and she looked down at her loose, black T-shirt and black pants, her hands instinctively smoothing down the fabric. "Is this too revealing?"
Cara raised an eyebrow and cocked her head with a look between confusion, disbelief, and amusement, "Your long black shirt and black pants? Where, exactly, do you think you're revealing too much?"
Adriana sighed, her fingers fidgeting with the hem of her shirt. "I don't know. These pants are technically closer to leggings, and leggings are controversial." She twisted to look at her own backside. "I mean, the top hides my butt, but maybe it's still too form-fitting…"
"Stop right there," Cara interrupted with a gentle reprimand, stepping closer and resting a comforting hand on Adriana's arm, "That's your anxiety talking. When you get anxious, what do you do?"
"I worry about everything," Adriana answered, her voice small.
"You worry abouteverything," Cara echoed, nodding firmly. "You start picking apart every little detail. But you are fine. You look great. Professional but casual, just like you wanted. The ride will be fine, and if you get lost in the building, so what? Everyone gets lost in those maze-like buildings. It's no big deal. You look for a map or someone to ask."
Adriana was now fiddling with the bracelets on her wrist, the ones Cara had made during her short-lived Taylor Swift phase. She nodded slowly, trying to let Cara's words sink in. "Yeah, I've seen other people get lost. It's never that big of a deal."
"Exactly," Cara encouraged, heading back to the stove and turning the element back on, resuming her egg frying. "And when you get home, we're having ice cream. You'll watch me crush my latest dance routine, and then you'll tell me how the meeting went. And if Rob Lockhart—"
"Will Lockwood," Adriana softly corrected.
"Right, if Will Lockwood is a jerk—because let's face it, so many guys are—we'll roast him together, okay?"
Adriana took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. "Okay. Thanks, Cara. I know you shouldn't have to keep talking me down like this. I am honestly working on it."
Cara turned her head to smile at her roommate as she finished scrambling her breakfast and reached for a plate to scoop her eggs onto. "It's what I'm here for. Plus, it would be one thing if I wasn't good at it, but I'm kind of really great. Now go out there and be amazing. Prove me right." Adriana watched as Cara transferred the scrambled eggs to her plate, dropping a few pieces on the floor as she did so. Steven was quick to swoop in and clean up.
"Attaboy," Cara muttered, giving Steven a quick, absentminded pat on the head as she made her way to the couch with her plate and headphones in hand.
Adriana's phone chimed, notifying her the Uber was two minutes away. She took one more deep breath then grabbed her small black crossbody bag and slipped it over her shoulder, as she marched herself towards the door. "Bye!" she yelled to Cara and Steven, her heart already racing as she crossed the threshold into the sunlight, bracing herself for the meeting with Dr. Will Lockwood.