Serena opened the door before I could knock. Her mussed hair and lazy smile told me everything I needed to know. When she caught the look on my face, she straightened. “Everything okay? Did something happen?”

“I’m fine.” I trudged into the apartment and kicked off my boots. “Is Noah still here?”

“Hi.” Noah stood from the couch and dusted some nonexistent crumbs off his jeans. “I was just leaving.”

Noah had come into Serena’s life a year ago. He worked at one of the local artisan coffee shops and wrote novels in his spare time. His wire-rimmed glasses, along with his dusty blonde hair, made him look smart but also adorable. The two of them had somehow found each other in a city full of millions. I’d never seen Serena happier, and I’d known her my entire life.

“Honestly, you don’t need to leave on my account,” I said to him. “If you’re still hanging out, I can go up to the roof. The tenant on the top floor hasn’t password-protected her wifi, so I can watch some Netflix and stuff my face with ice cream for a few hours.”

“Uh oh, not the ice cream,” Serena said with a groan. “What happened to our pact?”

Noah raised a questioning brow, so Serena explained. “Mia can’t do anything in moderation but especially not ice cream. She eats a spoonful, and then the entire carton is gone within ten minutes. And then her stomach aches for days. A week ago, she vowed to go cold turkey.” She eyed me warily. “So, something must have happened.”

“I found another job lead,” I said tensely. “An audition to dance at a club. The owner turned me away because I don’t look the part. That combined with the earlier rejection from that receptionist job has sucked the life out of my day.”

“Wait,” Serena said, folding her arms over her wrinkled t-shirt. “A club? Where?”

“All the way in Manhattan,” I said with a sigh. “Hell’s Kitchen.”

“No wonder you were gone for so long.” A moment passed before she spoke again. “A dancer at a club? Is that really the kind of job you want?”

“No. Yes. I don’t know.” I shrugged. “It doesn’t matter either way. I didn’t get it.”

“The cafe is hiring,” Noah interjected. “A girl quit last week, and business is booming. We need another barista as soon as possible. I could hook you up with an interview if you’d like.”

I straightened, ice cream craving forgotten. Working in a cafe wasn’t my first choice, but I didn’t have the luxury of choosing. My business degree sat on a shelf, gathering dust, and my ballet shoes were tucked in the back corner of my closet. I didn’t know much about coffee, but I could learn.

“You know what? That would be great. Thanks for offering to help.”