It did. A lot. Few people understood how I wanted to be challenged. My parents were about following the rules and finding security. I wanted to question the rules, and Rob made me think I could. Better yet, he held me safe and cheered when I talked about articles I wanted to write to shake up the world. He made me feel like I could do anything.
“He’s asked me to move in with him.”
“Oh my God! Are you going to do it?”
“It would solve certain problems, that’s for sure.” Things like my rent and my food bill. I happened to live in a popular apartment complex, so getting a subletter wouldn’t be a problem. But it was all the other issues that had me tightened into a knot on my bed. “I’d have to quit at the paper. He can’t be with a reporter. There’s no bending that rule.”
“Just you. Over the back of the couch.”
Yeah. We’d done that, too, and it had been amazing. “But it’s my job, Sam. And I really want to be a journalist. I’m even ready to tell my parents that.”
She took a breath, but she didn’t gasp in surprise or anything. And when she spoke, it wasn’t to question my decision at all. Which meant my big revelation hadn’t been that big a surprise. “When?”
I shuddered at the thought. “Actually, I found out there are law programs for journalists, too. I could apply to those.”
“You’re splitting hairs, and you know it. Just tell them the truth.”
“I have to decide about Rob first.”
I heard a rustle and knew that she was sitting up into her stern lecturing mode. “Number one, it’s not much of a job, is it? You’re just a stringer.”
I swallowed. “Yeah, that’s true.”
“Number two, he can’t be with asportsreporter. You never wanted that anyway. So why not just focus on some big story that you can sell to someone else? The Indy paper doesn’t want millennial stories, but there are hundreds of other publications who do.”
“None that pay well. Most of the online ones don’t pay at all.”
“But it’ll give you time to figure out what you want to write full-time. Special interest, features, hard news, whatever. And maybe you do want law journalism or whatever it’s call. But you can’t do that if you’re scrambling for food and rent. Or forced to move back in with your parents.”
We both groaned at that thought. And frankly, unless I figured out how I was going to pay my bills for the next few months, it was a real possibility.
“But what about him? What about if I decide to go to school?”
Samantha was silent for a minute. Long enough to wonder if I’d lost the connection. But then she spoke, her voice low and serious. “You’ve been following Rob’s career for years, right?”
“Yeah.”
“How long has he ever stayed with a woman?”
Damn it. Sam and I knew each other so well that I had already played out this conversation in my head. I knew what she was going to say, and she knew how I would respond. We both knew, but she pushed me into it anyway.
“Come on, Heidi. How long?”
“A few months at most.”
“Right. Now let’s think logically for a second. You had a hot night in Florida, then a great weekend in Nebraska. Is there anything in that time that would lead you to believe he’s in love?”
I swallowed. “I thought so. Maybe. Especially in his garage. There was this moment—”
“When you were humping like bunnies? That’s not love. Certainly not for a sexy celebrity like Rob.”
I went silent, hating that when I closed my eyes a single tear slipped from behind my eyes. It was just like Florida when I was thinking “wedding” after a couple hours. But every moment we were together felt right. Even when we argued, every part of me felt connected to him. Logically, there was no way I should be this emotionally entangled with a man after so little time. And yet, here I was thinking about giving up everything to move in with him.
“What if I’m in love?” I whispered.
Sam’s sigh was sympathetic. “Of course, you’re in love. You were in love after Ft. Lauderdale. You’re not the hump-like-a-bunny type.”Like I am.
Sam didn’t have to say those last words aloud. We both knew that she loved casual sex, but I’d never been like that. I couldn’t manage to get my heart to understand that sex could be a physical thing. Every man I’d ever slept with had owned my emotions long after he’d disappeared into another woman’s bedroom.
