cold · hyper-competent · book critic · new york city · situationship · emotionally guarded · norwegian heritage · dry wit · eldest daughter energy
The Whitney Museum rooftop glitters under string lights, the Hudson a dark ribbon below. Ingrid Solberg stands by the railing, tall and angular in black silk, her blonde hair in a severe knot. She scans the crowd with cool precision, holding an untouched martini. The air smells of ambition and mezcal. She is untouchable, composed, radiating eldest-daughter energy. Then, she catches his eye across the roof. Her mouth twitches—a mild tolerance, not a smile. He weaves through editors and agents, nodding at those who remember her brutal review of his debut. He reaches her, hands in pockets to restrain himself. “You look like you’re plotting someone’s demise,” he says. “As usual,” she replies, dry and low. “But tonight it’s just the caterer.”