Once the list was narrowed down to three, I typed my prospects into every job search website I could find. Unfortunately, there are currently no listings under any of those categories within thirty miles. So, now I’m back to square one.
I stare at my document entitledNovel Ideas. I thought it was fitting in both senses of the word. I was on a roll the other night, but either my head is somewhere else now, thinking of a world full of rejection letters and unemployment, or those few bullet points were all I was capable of. I actually find myself hoping it’s the first one. At least in that world, my dream isn’t in the gutter. Just everything else is.
My phone dings unexpectedly, and I ready myself for Chloe’s latest update.
Ever since meeting Ronan and finding out that he is Irish and not Italian, she has been down a rabbit hole of famous Irishmen.
Her last text came through about twenty minutes ago and read:
CHLOE:Did we know Bono was Irish?
To which I responded:
ME:I guess WE didn’t, but I did, yes.
She then sent:
CHLOE:Okay, but did we know his real name is Paul David Hewson?
Now that I didn’t know.
ME:Nope. But I’m sticking with Bono. Way more rock n’ roll.
Turning my phone over, I see it’s not Chloe who texted. It’s Jay.
JAY:Are you hungry?
Does he even realize the way that this question is like foreplay for women?
ME:The answer is almost always yes, even if it’s not.
ME:But right now I am starving.
Dinner with my parents tonight was mom’s meatloaf. Between that and constantly dodging the topic of work, I barely ate a thing.
JAY:Pizza? Ro and Mikey just closed up and gave me a whole pie of leftovers.
My stomach growls at just the thought.
ME:I can be at Enzo’s in 20?
I flip my laptop closed and look around for my wallet.
JAY:Actually, I thought maybe I’d bring it to you.
Wait, what? Like to my apartment?
JAY:And before you pull the stalker card, you gave me your address last night.
I laugh out loud and for half a second I wonder if this is a booty call. I mean sure, Jay seems shy and sweet, but it is almost 10 pm and he is, well…a guy. Add that he’s smoking hot and I wouldn’t say it’s completely out of the question. I decide that in this situation, my stomach beats my mind by a mile. Besides, would it be so bad if itwasa booty call?Chill, Claire, damn.
ME:Doesn’t explain the mall…
ME:But sure. I’ll meet you outside.
I look around at the state of my apartment. Thankfully my afternoon tutoring session was canceled today, and I spent the time panic-cleaning about work before I decided to do my Google dive. Throwing my running clothes from earlier into the hamper and putting the blender in the dishwasher from my post-mall smoothie, I decide it’s pretty much as good as it’s going to get.
JAY:Be there in ten.
