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The official story was that Mal was staying with her and Stacey for a college tour over her spring break, but considering they spent most of the week in every part of the city except a school, Claudia was beginning to suspect otherwise. Of course, there were some academic parts of their trip— Mal offered to check Claudia’s rough draft for her essay, which was great, even though as far as she was concerned art school shouldn’t have any essays at all— but it was a little hard to figure out where Broadway shows fit into “getting an idea of the college experience.”
Stacey was in the middle of explaining the TKTS booth rules as they walked to the subway (“if we wait in this line all day we'll get half-price tickets, but don’t have your heart set on any particular show, we take turns buying coffee, and Claudia isn’t allowed to spend more than five minutes in the Hershey store while other people are holding her spot for her”) when Mallory saw the piercing parlor.
“They won’t do it without your parents’ permission,” Claud said quickly. The last thing they needed was to waste the day on St. Mark's again instead of going to the show— not that St. Mark's wasn't great, but Mal had done this every time they left their apartment.
“I’m getting my nose pierced the second I turn 18,” she harrumphed, and nearly ran into a pair of Midwestern tourists contemplating buying a bong.
The line in Times Square was long, as they expected, but it only seemed to get Mal more excited. She was trying to strike up a conversation with everyone in line around them, though most people were polite and dismissive at best. Stacey was hooking her Chanel sunglasses back onto her face and doing her best “I am not a tourist and I don’t know this other girl who’s acting like she is” look, which Claudia took as her cue to nudge Mal to get her drink order.
“What do they have?” Mal asked, segueing breathlessly from her discussion with the family next to them in line, who quickly took the opportunity to start up a conversation amongst themselves in Vietnamese while she was distracted.
“It’s a Starbucks.”
Mal looked disappointed, but dug out a five. Stacey slipped her money to Claudia discreetly to keep up the show that she was an unrelated bystander as Mal moved on to the girls in front of them.
That Starbucks was always crowded, but between waiting on line in the street for tickets and waiting on line in the store for delicious drinks, Claudia’d pick the one with air conditioning. She had dressed to wait outside, after all, in an oversized t-shirt that covered her tight spandex bike shorts, comfortable clunky boots that went almost up to her knees, and a cute over-the-shoulder bag with a polar bear on it that held enough candy bars (and graham crackers for Stacey) to last them until they got home.
The store had an old U 4 Me song that she nodded along to (ironically! Okay, so maybe she still listened to U 4 Me, but at least she admitted it) as she leaned against the wall to watch everyone milling around. Stacey always said she liked the crowds in New York because they made her feel more at home, but Claudia liked them because so many interesting people walked by. There was something about watching everyone going through their lives that just made her want to create something. Stacey didn’t seem to get it, but Mal told her once that she felt the same way as a writer, like everyone had their own story and she got to guess what it was.
There were a lot of people in just shorts and t-shirts, of course, but the guy by the door had a single dangling earring that went great with his hair, which was half-shaven with a design traced in. She could just barely see the vibrant purple streak in the barista’s hair over the heads of the people in front of her. An old man sat in the corner muttering things at the newspaper in front of him, and something about the way he kept picking it up and smoothing it reminded her of her Aunt Peaches. Or maybe it was his mustache that did it.
The guy behind her (who had a nice tat, from what she could see of it) cleared his throat to get her attention, and she looked up and saw that it was her turn. She shot him an apologetic smile and hurried forward, about to recite her list of orders when she looked up and saw who the barista with the purple streak was.
The look of surprise on Ashley’s face was probably an exact replica of Claudia’s (except Ashley had a badass nose stud, and Claudia’s mouth quirked when her first thought was of what Mallory would say).
Claudia started laughing, because of course she’d run into people from Stoneybrook working in the Starbucks in Times Square. Ashley joined in, leaning forward like they were going to start catching up right here with twenty people behind her in line.
“I didn’t know you were in the city!” Claudia said first. When they graduated, the local paper put out a list with where everyone in their grade was going to college, but she hadn’t seen Ashley’s anywhere— and she had been making a point of looking for other people going to New York, too.
“I’ve got a studio in Brooklyn, I’m working on my art,” Ashley said, gesturing down to the Starbucks apron as if it were a natural extension of being an artist in New York City. (Claud nodded, because as an art student in New York City, she was of course aware of this law of the universe.)
“You’re kidding, that’s so cool! I’m living down in the East Village, me and Stacey have this apartment—”
“Are you going to order something, or are you two going to keep yapping all day?” grumbled the lady behind her, and Claudia winced apologetically as Ashley straightened up to take her order.
She was shuffled along by the line as soon as she got the list out, trying desperately to catch Ashley’s eyes again, but the other cashier eventually grew tired of waiting for Claudia to pay and moved from clearing her throat to practically coughing.
“Oh, sorry,” Claudia said as she dug out her change, which for some reason didn’t seem to make the other girl any happier.
She was starting to think she’d have to come back in again— how long were Starbucks shifts? Was it legal for her to get thrown out of a Starbucks for hanging around to talk to her friend? Would Stacey and Mal even buy her ticket for her?— when her drinks were called out. Ashley caught her eye briefly with a smile, but she was busy with a customer and Claudia couldn’t talk to her again. There was something written on her cup, though, besides the scribbles to label the drink, and when Claud looked at it closer she saw it was a phone number.
She grinned at Ashley and opened her mouth to say something again, but the other cashier gave her such a Look that she could have been related to Kristy, and instinct took over as she grabbed the drinks and bolted.
When she found their spot in line, Mallory was reciting a list of facts about each and every show playing that night to a guy in his mid-twenties who was politely pretending to listen, and Stacey was pinching the bridge of her nose so hard she looked like she was getting a stress headache.
“Drink that quickly, because I’m getting the next round in about three minutes,” was all she said as she took her coffee (black, absolutely no cream or sugar).
“Why is there a number written on my cup?” asked Mal as she craned over to see if Stacey had one too. Claudia just laughed into her Frappuccino.
***
The first contact was the hardest.
Not because of any remaining awkwardness between her and Ashley, or because she wasn’t interested in catching up. There might have been some weirdness back in the beginning, and their social circles didn’t overlap much in high school, but as far as Claudia was concerned, they were past all that. The fact that Ashley gave out her number meant that Ashley felt the same way.
(Mal kept insisting on calling it in the line, going on about how it could be a secret message intended for a special agent, and now that the drinks were switched, they’d be tied up in the spy business. Stacey pointed out that no one else in the entirety of NYC would even think of ordering a Starbucks Very Berry Hibiscus, so the odds of them accidentally switching drinks were nil, and added that they had sworn off getting involved in mysteries after that business with the cat burglar. Once Claudia finally finished explaining, Mal still declared the story suitably dramatic, but recommended adding a death threat at the very least. Stacey continued to pretend not to know them.)
No, the biggest problem with having to text Ashley was that she needed Stacey to proofread the message, since it had long been established that Claudia’s spelling combined with Autocorrect left her texts looking like gibberish at best. Stacey was a good sport about it, considering their history with Ashley, but it made her feel like she was running everything past her mom.
As soon as Ashley got her number, though, she was fine with calling instead, and actually seemed to prefer it (”text-based communication is, after all, the cause of our generation’s emotional disconnect with our peers”) which made Claudia feel better about being the only person in the entire world under the age of 40 who still made phone calls.
It was Ashley who first invited her to the Brooklyn Botanical Garden one weekend to sketch. Claudia had never been before, so she jumped at the chance. The garden was beautiful, with smatterings of vibrant color spread out through flowers she had never heard of. The watercolors she produced that weekend went over great during crit, so it was only natural for Claudia to call Ashley when she had to head up to the Bronx Zoo. While the smell was significantly worse, the visit was still inspiring, especially when a llama tried to eat Claudia’s ring along with the food they bought. That started a routine almost every week, which only made sense as her finals started coming up. It was when she needed the most inspiration, after all, and she and Ashley fed off each other, leaving Claudia full of ideas and creative energy.
“You’re going out with Ashley again this weekend, right?” Stacey asked one day, a little note of something in her voice that Claudia couldn’t quite catch.
“Yeah, Saturday, once her shift is over,” she said, and then realized why Stacey was worried. “Just during the day, though, I’ll be back in time for movie night.”
Stacey visibly relaxed. “Sorry, it’s just…”
But Claudia got it. Considering how everything went down when she first met Ashley, she couldn’t really blame Stacey for being afraid that she’d start skipping their plans again. She smiled and changed the subject to help Stacey out of that awkward pause. “Hey, so, help me pick an outfit. I want to take her to the High Line.”
“The High Line is for tourists,” Stacey sniffed.
“It is not!” Really, Claud was looking forward to the view— flowers of all colors growing out from railroad tracks, the city laid out in front of them, Ashley’s hair blowing in the wind off the water as she leaned over the rail— and considering Ashley kept taking her to great places, she wanted to find something that could impress her too.
Stacey kept shaking her head, though, and Stacey rarely ever steered her wrong in matters of love and fashion, so maybe she should listen to her.
“Why don’t you just people watch in the Village?” she suggested, gesturing towards the window. “You can grab something to eat and hang out in Tompkins, plus you can wear that leather jacket you got last week.”
Claudia thought about it. The leather jacket was pretty cute, and she had some great striped socks that she wanted to wear with it, but so far they had only gone to places just for working on art. She and Ashley never just hung out, and she was almost afraid that Ashley would get bored if they did.
“I don’t know, that seems… sort of like a date, you know?”
Stacey smiled. “You are sort of like dating, right?”
It occurred to Claudia that they were, which only made her dig through her closet faster.
***
Ashley was fine with their sort of like a date. Claudia wore a cute hat and Doc Martins to complete her outfit, and they got Sichuan food on St. Mark’s and ate it on a bench outside the dog park. Ashley leaned over the fence to talk to one of the dogs, and when the wind stirred her hair it showed off the great open back in her dress, which Claudia was so fixated on she almost sent the Australian tourists in the complete opposite direction when they asked where the Big Gay Ice Cream was.
“That dog has such beautiful coloring,” Ashley said when she sat back down, waving to its owner as Claudia tried to look like she hadn’t been staring. “You’ve got one more final to start working on, right?”
Claudia groaned, because it was the one she had been putting off. “Create a set of four character designs based off common storytelling archetypes. I’ve got no idea what to do for it.”
Ashley twisted the streaked part of her hair as she smiled encouragingly. “Maybe next time we should go to the Met. It could give you some great ideas, and it would be incredibly appropriate for us, of course. We can look at the paintings during the day and sleep in the bed exhibits at night.”
Claudia’s confusion must have shown on her face, because Ashley added: “From the Mixed-Up Files? When we first met?”
Claudia felt herself smiling, a warm feeling surging through her at the thought that Ashley knew that off the top of her head. “You remember that?”
“How could I forget it?” she asked simply, as if the idea honestly didn’t even occur to her.
Claud was pretty sure she couldn’t stop smiling if she tried.
“So, next week at the Met to work on your assignment,” Ashley continued, crossing her legs and tapping her lips. “Oh, and the Friday after that I’m having an art show. I’d be thrilled if you’d attend.”
Claudia stared at her. “Are you kidding?! Of course I would, why wouldn’t I? Congrats, Ashley, that’s fantastic—”
And she leaned forward and kissed Ashley without even thinking about it.
Of course, once she actually did it, she started thinking about it— what if she read the signs wrong, what if Ashley was only calling her for these things because they worked well together, what if she crossed a line, it’s totally acceptable for friends to give each other celebratory pecks on the mouth, right?
But Ashley just smiled like everything was right in the world, and her hand squeezed Claudia’s encouragingly. “Great, so I’ll see you next week.”
“See you,” Claudia said, still in a daze.
When she got home, Stacey had only started to ask her if she had had fun and been careful when she noticed the state Claud was in. It hit her then, the very pressing issue surrounding Ashley’s art show, and she needed more input than even Stacey could provide. It was time for an emergency meeting of the former Baby-sitter’s Club.
Group chats were a regular thing, though their schedules were so different they could only get everyone online at the same time once in a blue moon. The summer before they all left for school (after Dawn had made it clear that she was ethically opposed to Facebook even if it was the easiest way to keep in touch) Kristy, with a little help from her mom, Watson, and her coaching gig, had given everyone basic web cams and a printed schedule with the time everyone should get online after adjusting for timezones. College could defeat even Kristy’s scheduling, though, so they usually just left the program open on their computer and whoever was around would talk.
She had her outfit ready, of course (bordeaux velvet blazer over a black silk shirt with a pussybow, a matching red corduroy skirt, black tights with a smattering of white stars, dangling star earrings, black suede platforms, and a floppy black hat) but with the recent developments, she had to consider the possibility that they’d head back to Ashley’s place afterwards, and she had to be prepared for anything. The others agreed; it was what she should do to be prepared that they argued over. Suggestions ranged from an emergency overnight kit (consisting of a toothbrush, t-shirt for sleeping in, and a way to transform her outfit the next morning) to special underwear, which sounded promising until Claud realized she had no idea what to look for.
“I use this site,” Mary Anne said shyly. The fact that she was already turning a little pink should have tipped Claudia off, but she clicked through without thinking about it.
“Oh my Lord!” she shrieked with laughter, as Stacey looked wide-eyed between what the models were wearing and the chat window. On the other end of the line, Mary Anne covered her face with her hands, and in the background of Mal’s window they could see her roommate turning around at the noise as she lunged forward to block the screen.
“I knew it,” Stacey said, pointing her finger at the camera accusingly. “I always knew it, you totally are the dirtiest one.”
"I'm going to bust a nut laughing," Abby cracked, cupping her hands around her chest as though they wouldn't get it without the visual.
“You guys,” Mal groaned, after she moved so her back was up against the wall and her roommate couldn’t see what she was doing anymore. “Warn me first.”
Claudia never got the fancy underwear, but they did pester Mary Anne enough that she finally spilled the details.
***
Ashley’s show was swarming with people, and Claudia felt as excited as if it were her own art up there for skinny ladies in black dresses to discuss over their free drinks. Her plan was originally to find Ashley, stick by her side, and maybe get in an impassioned, dramatic fistfight with a snooty art critic who didn’t get it, but step 1 was already turning out a lot trickier than she expected. Plus, she found out as she mingled with the people commenting on Ashley’s pieces, there weren’t many fights to pick. Everyone was polite and kept declaring things “inspired,” and every time Claudia got to introduce herself as a friend of Ashley’s she got a warm, proud feeling like it was her work they were complimenting.
She finally spotted Ashley in the center of the room, surrounded by people. She was hiding it well, but Claud knew she didn’t like talking to so many of them like this; she always said her art should speak for itself. It was as good an excuse as any to go and rescue her.
She slipped through the crowd of people to stand at her side, nudging her shoulder against Ashley’s as she started to talk about the sculpture in front of them.
“It’s called ‘The Lily Pool Terrace on the Cusp of Summer,’” she said, smiling gratefully at Claudia as she leaned against her to return the gesture. “It’s meant to represent gentle curves and tender feelings.”
Claudia remembered that day, the two of them sitting by the water in the sun, trying to dip their hands in when no one was watching. She grabbed Ashley’s hand and held it for the rest of the night.
It took forever for everyone to finally clear out— though that was a good thing, of course, it was amazing that people were so interested in Ashley’s work— and by the time everything was done, Claud was beginning to suspect that she’d just end up going home.
But then Ashley looked at her and asked, “Ready to go?”
Claudia had never spent much time in Brooklyn, aside from her visits to the park, but it reminded her of the more fun neighborhoods in Manhattan— there were late night coffee shops and clubs, people hanging out on the stoops or the fire escapes, and she didn’t hear a single person wondering how to get back to their hotel. The sun had just set before they left, and out of the open windows she could hear snippets of songs by bands she probably had never even heard of. Claud could feel the artistic energy everywhere, people who wanted to do art or to see it, and it was immediately obvious why Ashley lived here.
Ashley turned out to live in a fifth floor walkup, which was less awesome, especially with Claudia in platform shoes.
“Sorry,” she said, as they rounded the landing of the third floor. “But that’s how I can afford it.”
Claudia waved her hand to say it wasn’t a problem, but she didn’t have the breath to answer out loud.
When they got to the top, she tried to look like she wasn’t leaning against the wall as Ashley dug out her keys. Her neighbors were playing the bongo drums, and she could feel them pulsing through the hallway wall. Ashley beckoned her inside once she finally got the door open.
Ashley’s room was beautiful, and it wasn’t even that small (as far as New York apartments go, anyway). Her work table was covered in concept sketches and art supplies, crowded but obviously ordered. She had no bedframe, just a mattress on the floor under a window, but there were enough pillows on it that it looked like the most comfortable thing in the world right now. The shelves on the wall were filled with art books, and beautifully decorated paper lanterns crowded the ceiling.
“There’s a standing lamp for when I’m working with something in color and I need a neutral light,” Ashley was saying as she put her bag on a hook on the wall. “But when I’m just sitting in here, and that doesn’t matter, I love to use them.”
She flicked the switch, and the lanterns glowed, bathing the room in warm golden-red. The lights played with the shadows on Ashley’s face, and she was looking up at the lights as if she was still delighted by the sight of them.
“It’s beautiful,” Claudia said, and she was.
Ashley caught her staring and grinned mischievously, opening the door to her apartment again.
“Would you like to see something special?”
There was a little alcove out in the hallway, just down the end of the hall, which held a ladder.
“The supervisor’s supposed to keep this closed, but he never does,” Ashley said as she climbed up first, pushing the door at the top open. “See? Come on up, he doesn’t care.”
Claudia followed, ducking her head to clear the small space, and came out on the roof. Even though the sun was completely down by then, all the lights from the surrounding city made the sky glow, like it was chasing away the nighttime. The soft, soothing sounds of people talking all over the neighborhood floated up to them, unintelligible but cozy and comforting.
“My friends sometimes complain about how you can’t see the stars here,” Claudia said, approaching the railing of the roof to look out upon Brooklyn. “They don’t get why I don’t mind.”
Ashley came up behind her, hugging her from behind. She stopped and turned her head towards Claudia, checking for permission, and Claudia turned away from the rest of the world.
They kissed, for real this time, not the light, unsure peck in the park but something more self-confident and secure. She slipped her arms around Ashley’s shoulders as she nearly lost herself in it, everything finally feeling so right. Ashley’s hands grounded her, settling comfortably on her waist as she found her back hitting the rail of the roof, the stone still cool despite the residual heat of the summer night.
Ashley broke away all too soon, though she stayed close enough that Claudia could feel the smile on her lips.
“You taste,” she declared, resting her forehead against Claudia’s, “like sugar and imagination.”
Claudia was mortified. “Oh my Lord,” she said, covering her mouth with her hand as she frantically swiped her tongue around searching for pieces of chocolate stuck in her teeth, or something equally as embarrassing.
Ashley laughed. “Figuratively,” she assured her. “Besides, I like it. It tastes like… Claudia.”
She tilted head back into another kiss, and Claudia decided to take her word for it.
But as soon as she got home, she decided, she was definitely assembling that emergency overnight kit with the toothbrush and the world’s largest supply of breathmints.