The Fine Print: Chapter 5

Claire drops onto our couch and shoves her laptop onto my lap. “This is your chance!”

“What is?”

She pauses the TV, interrupting my binge marathon of The Duke Who Seduced Me.

I read the email before putting her laptop on the coffee table. “No way. Not happening.”

“Hear me out—”

“No.”

“Yes! You’re going to listen to my argument without interrupting me. You owe me that much as your best friend and personal chef.” She wags her finger in the same way my mom does.

“My stomach might love you but my thighs sure don’t.”

She only glares at me.

I cross my arms. “Fine. I’ll give you a chance.”

She readjusts her tiny bun. “Okay, so I get why you’re hesitant. I’d be too if someone betrayed me like Lance did.”

“Do we really need to bring up Lance?” A cold feeling seeps through my chest, chilling my veins. Betrayal like that is hard to come back from.

Claire’s smile falters. “The only reason I’m mentioning him is because this is the final step in the process of letting him go.” She waves at her laptop like it will solve the world’s problems.

“I’ve moved on already.”

“I know you have, but there’s still a tiny part of you that is afraid of chasing after the dreams he stole right out of your hands.” He stole a lot more than my dreams.

My eyes sting. “I don’t dream about inventing anymore.”

“The bullshit he said about your skills was only a diversion to keep you from submitting the same idea as him. You know that, right?”

“But—”

“But nothing. Lance lied because he wanted to hold you back long enough for him to steal your idea.”

It makes sense in theory, but I’m still not sure.

Claire grabs my hand and holds on to it. “This is your chance to prove to yourself that nothing anyone says defines who you are. Only your actions do.”

My chest tightens. “I’m not sure…”

She squeezes my hand. “Come on. Just submit one teensy little project. That’s all. What’s the worst that can happen?”

“Well, where should I start? I mean—”

Claire covers my mouth with her palm. “It was a rhetorical question!”

I raise a brow. “Why are you pushing me so hard to apply?”

“Because that’s what friends are for. We need to push each other out of our comfort zones. Because if you’re not afraid—”

“Then you’re not growing.” I smile back at her.

“So what do you say?”

I pull out my phone from my pocket and open an email I received last week. “Speaking of comfort zones…I wanted to bring this up to you, and now seems like the perfect time. Because if you’re not afraid…” I tease.

“Oh no.”

My grin widens. “If I’m submitting a proposal, then you’re applying for the apprentice position at The Royal Chateau. They have an opening in the kitchen that has your name written all over it.”

Claire’s smile drops. “This wasn’t supposed to be about me.”

“We’re a duo. If I’m pushing myself to my limit, then you’re coming along with me.”

This is my chance to help Claire out. She never wanted to permanently stay at The Magic Wand Salon, but she never worked up the nerve to apply for the position she was initially rejected from.

“I can’t apply there. They have a Michelin star!”

“All the more reason to apply to the very best.”

“But I don’t have a culinary degree from some fancy French school!” She jumps up from her spot on the couch.

“No, but you have a degree and heaps of experience working at restaurants during high school and college.”

She throws her arms in the air. “Last week I burnt a batch of cookies.”

“Only because I forgot to set the timer.” I laugh.

“The entire building had to evacuate because of the fire alarm. There’s no way anyone would trust me in a kitchen after that.”

I laugh. “Don’t be so dramatic.”

She plops onto the couch and lays her head on my lap. “You weren’t supposed to blackmail me.”

“What are friends for?”

“Oh, I don’t know, anything but felonies?”

I smile. “Come on. What do you say?”

“I say you’re annoyingly chirpy for someone who was against this whole idea only five minutes ago.”

“I’m taking advantage of an opportunity.”

“Just so you’re aware, I’m only agreeing because I’m okay with being rejected if it means seeing you chase after your dreams again.”

My smile wobbles. “Sure thing. Just like I will only agree to your plan because I’d rather see you try again. If not, you’ll end up like Mrs. Jeffries, working at the salon until you retire at ninety.”

Her lips purse. “Now you’re just being intentionally cruel.”

Together, we laugh up to the ceiling before shaking on our agreement.

Sifting through the weathered pages of my idea notebook hits me with bittersweet memories. I trace over Brady’s cursive handwriting covering the pages where we brainstormed what Nebula Land would look like if it became a new land within the park.

He and I spent weeks on it after he rejected my initial submission and told me I could do better. The catch? He would be the one to guide me. Together, we formulated a proposal while developing a brief mentorship.

Nebula Land was supposed to be the project that turned me into a Creator. But after Brady’s accident, it felt wrong to submit it, so I held off. I was surprised to read about my idea in the company newsletter after learning Lance stole the main parts I had shared with him in private.

What would Brady think of Lance manipulating our idea? The ride looks nothing like our original plan. My lungs burn with the heavy breath I let out, and my eyes become watery as I run a finger across a sketch Brady did.

Critiquing Lance’s idea isn’t going to get you anywhere closer to submitting yours.

I turn on my laptop, sign in to my employee account, and open the annual Dreamland submissions portal. The blinking cursor in the empty text box mocks me, but I refuse to give up. Claire believes in me, and maybe it really is time I stop letting Lance get in my way of believing in myself.

This was a very bad idea. After my first failed draft, I decided wine and a broken heart were a good combination for my second attempt.

Update: It was not.

I’m still nowhere close to having a submission ready. Everything I write about seems too underwhelming and lacks my usual passion. I take another swig of wine straight from the bottle in a way that would horrify my mother.

What if working through your negative feelings about the Nebula Land ride helps open up your mind to more creative ideas?

Yes! Maybe that’s what I’m missing. I delete everything from the text box and restart. At the top, I write The real Nebula Land that would make Brady Kane proud. My fingers fly across the keys as I let out every single thought I have toward the project. I’m done staying silent and pretending the ride doesn’t bother me.

When I was with Lance, that’s the kind of person I became comfortable being. The silent, demure type who didn’t want to make any waves because I prioritized his happiness. In the end, it was all for nothing. I gave up the person I was for a man who couldn’t handle the woman I was meant to be.

All my fingers cramp up from typing. It feels empowering to tear apart something that broke me first. By the time I’m done, my vision is a bit blurry and my coordination could be better.

Since drinking and typing have no place in my life, I decide to click the Save Draft button at the bottom and shut my laptop for the night.

“Oh no!” Oh no, no, no. “Fuck! Fuck! Fuuuuck!”

Claire runs into my room. “What is it?”

I stare at the application portal.

This can’t be real. I pinch my arm so hard, I wince. The bright green letters mock me in a way that has my stomach threatening to revolt.

Your application has been submitted.

Claire looks over my shoulder at the screen. “You submitted it without asking me to double-check for typos? Who are you and what have you done with the real Zahra?”

“It was an accident!” I drop onto my bed, cover my face with a pillow, and scream.

Claire rubs my trembling arm. “What if you send an email to Mr. Kane and the Creators explaining the mistake? I’m sure they would understand.”

I tug the pillow away from my face. “Are you kidding me?! What am I supposed to say? ‘Sorry I got a tiny bit drunk and submitted an application tearing apart your most expensive ride’?”

She brushes my hair out of my face. “Maybe it’s not as bad as you think.”

“I called Lance’s ride a big metal pile of shit that would make Brady Kane roll over in his grave.”

She winces. “Oh, okay. Well. Yeah. You have always had a talent with words. At least you’re putting that English degree to good use.”

I groan. “I can’t believe I hit the wrong button. I should have never been drinking and working. What was I thinking?”

The bed dips under her weight as she sits next to me. Her arms wrap around me in the best hug. “Well, this was the first big step in letting go of the past. Maybe it needed to happen like this.”

“Yesterday you said fate was a fool’s way of avoiding plans.”

Her chest shakes from silent laughter. “Only because you love to tout your kismet horn for everyone to hear. So what, you only believe in fate when things go your way? That sounds like some bullshit logic to me.”

I purse my lips. “Yeah, but what if I get fired? I’ve already made some mistakes.”

First, I called Rowan an asshole and made fun of his board, and now this? I’ll be lucky if I’m allowed to pick up trash at the end of all this.

Claire pats my hand. “It’s too late now. You’re in deep.” She points at the green font on the screen.

I sigh. “Let’s hope for the best?”

What’s done is done. I can’t change the proposal I submitted and there was something cathartic about pouring out all my feelings.

Maybe it really is kismet.