#Book 1 - Page 36 (2/2)

Dex started the engine and brought the car back onto the highway. I felt exhausted and slightly relieved at the same time. I closed my eyes and had almost drifted asleep when a question pulled at me.

“Dex?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“What did you mean when you said you’d been there? You’ve seen stuff?”

“Go to sleep, kiddo.”

“OK,” I sighed sleepily. And soon everything faded to black.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

I woke up from my short, dreamless sleep as I felt Dex’s car come to a rolling stop. We parked on the street in front of my house. Even in the dark, with leaves scattering in the wind and tossing the thin branches of our cherry trees about, it looked like the nicest place on earth.

“Home sweet home,” Dex said.

I felt awkward. Did I hug him goodbye? Shake his hand? Both seemed strangely inappropriate.

“Feels like the end of a first date, doesn’t it?” he remarked, a smirk deepening one corner of his mouth.

I blushed furiously. “Yeah, I guess.”

Amused, he opened his arms and said, “Come here.”

I leaned over and hugged him. He squeezed me very tight, grunting humorously. I squeezed back, not wanting to let go but also not wanting to give him the wrong idea. The wrong idea being that I wanted keep touching him.

Eventually I pulled away and looked to the side.

“Hey,” he whispered, as he slipped his hand under my chin and tipped it up. I had no choice to but to meet his eyes. They danced in the dark. “You OK?”

I stared at his lips, my breath deepening. The urge to kiss him grew frighteningly strong, so much it surprised me. I obviously wasn’t OK but for different reasons than he thought.

I saved face by closing my eyes and nodding. “I’m good.”

Satisfied, he let go of my chin and sat back in his seat. “Fabulous.”

I quickly opened the door and hopped out of the car before I did or said something stupid. I heard “Scenes From an Italian Restaurant” faintly playing from the speakers, which immediately reminded me of his sing-along session in the car yesterday. Felt so long ago.

I must have smiled involuntarily because he handed me my bag from behind the seat and said, “Want me to start singing again? I’ll sing you the whole CD. ‘My Life’, ‘Piano Man’, ‘She’s Always a Woman’...”

I could tell he was joking, but I secretly wanted nothing more. I swallowed hard and gave him a shy smile. “Guess this is goodbye?”

“For now,” he said. “Go and get some proper sleep and rock their f.u.c.king faces off at the meeting tomorrow. I’ll call you when I’ve got something interesting to say.”

“Sounds good. Bye, Dex.”

I was about to close the door when he stopped me. “Wait!”

He reached behind him into his bag and pulled out his newsboy cap. “Wear this tomorrow. It’ll cover up your brain hole. And you’ll look really cool.”

I took it from him, plopped it on my head and tipped the brim. “Thanks.”

He saluted me with his fingers as I shut the door.

I turned and walked towards the house, hearing the car drive off. I looked behind me, and he was gone.

I sighed, pausing at the front door to gather my thoughts, before unlocking it and returning to my old life.

***

As one can imagine, the next day turned into utter madness times a billion.

First of all, I came home to find my mother asleep in my bed, apparently waiting up for me. Thankfully, Dex had given me his cap, which covered up the wound on the back of my head, and I did not need that to freak out my mother.

Of course she bombarded me with a ton of worried-mother questions that I easily deflected by saying how badly I needed to sleep, which was true; however, it didn’t make a lick of difference in the end, considering I woke up feeling like absolute s.h.i.+t.

Every single bone and muscle in my body ached to high heaven. I couldn’t even bend down to tie my boots and had to opt for ballet flats. Those, coupled with a turtleneck to hide the ever-deepening bruises on my neck and Dex’s cap on my head, made me look an awful lot like Yoko Ono after all.

My choice of wardrobe was the least of my worries, though, because along with my physical pain, I was also in a state of mental shock. I was so tired and exhausted to my core that I was borderline delirious. Even forming sentences seemed to be a challenge, which did not bode well for answering the phones.

Even two Red Bulls couldn’t help my jumbled thoughts, although they did elevate my heart rate to cardiac arrest status, which doubled by the time I walked into my meeting.

But through crazy luck or the pity of the universe, I somehow not only got through the meeting with Frida and the head honcho, John Danvers, but I won them over and got the promotion.

Yeah, I know.

I can’t explain it myself except that I managed to project a very professional and enthusiastic image and even showed them some of the advertising plans I created back at the university. The position was just for a production coordinator, which was a pretty stressful and lowly job, but it was still better and more relevant to me than being stuck in reception. Plus, it paid $3 extra an hour, and I would get benefits.

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