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I turn the corner and pick up speed, feeling my muscles warming up. I use my phone to track my distance and get lost in the movement and my steady breathing. I wonder what it would be like to be in Claire’s situation where waking up next to a man is the most normal thing in the world. I have never done that. Ever. Last night was the closest I have gotten to that happening. When Graham stopped over unexpectedly, I fully expected to fall asleep next to him. We have gotten very close in a short period of time.
Do I trust Graham? I know he would never intentionally hurt me. He seems very overprotective. He just takes things to the extreme.
I step from the curb to cross the street, and a light hits my periphery suddenly and—
I jolt myself back. My ankles hit against the curb of the sidewalk. I lose my balance and fall to my butt, as I stare at the car speeding past.
“Asshole!” I yell, picking myself up off the street.
I dust my hands down my pants and look both ways before continuing to cross. I didn’t even hear them coming or see them. I can’t remember if I was paying that much attention but still. As highly populated as the area is, surely the driver should have been more careful.
I use the adrenaline running through my veins to propel me home. I find a note from Claire attached to the door letting me know she and Ethan are going out for breakfast and then leaving for their trip from there. I check the phone and see that I made a three-mile loop. Not too bad for my first time out in months. I let my lungs cool down and make my way into the house for something to eat.
I blend frozen fruit, milk, and ice—leaving out the sawdust tasting chia seeds and ground flax. Claire and Ethan are gone and the townhouse already feels empty. I could get used to this Ethan guy hanging around because it has been translating to Claire being at the townhouse more. The sound of my phone draws my attention away from theVoguearticle, “How to Drive a Man Crazy (In and Out of Bed).” Somehow this article was hidden from last night’s perusal with Graham. He had too much fun as it was with the quiz “Which Disney Princess Matches Your Sexuality?” Apparently I am a cross between Cinderella and Belle. Go figure. Eek, the phone continues to buzz.
“Hello,” I answer, checking the clock on the microwave to budget my time.
“Angie. It’s Mark Tanner.”
“Oh, hey, Mark. What’s up?”
“I have some good news for you. An acquaintance of mine, Steve, from Seattle is visiting town in a few weeks. I told you about him. He’s a recruiter for Pacific Press.”
I get up from the stool and do a half dance in excitement as he continues to talk.
“You mentioned wanting to be an intern in your area of study. Want to discuss it over a late lunch?”
“Wow! Really? That would be awesome. I’m free after twelve.” Back on the first date, he had mentioned something about an old college friend having ties to some of the news outlets that might be offering internships. Considering that most well-established positions are attained by knowing the right people at the right time, I jump at the chance to explore the possibility. Plus, being closer to Mark helps me decide if he is worth pursuing regarding my research.
“There’s a diner on the corner of Alhmed and Sixth. I can meet around twelve thirty. My treat.” I can almost see the smile that has to be playing on his lips.
“Cool. See you then. Oh, and Mark?”
“Yeah?”
“Thanks.” I nearly squeak.
“My pleasure.”
I twirl around while drinking my smoothie—excitement taking the lead emotion role. River Valley gives free rein to students to find their own internship—even if they are out of state. While the Student Services Department will assist, it usually falls upon the student to avoid getting a poor position as a last resort. I do not want to rely on chance. Not for something this big. If the internship is a success, most likely the company will hire internally. Thus, I can have a job directly reserved for me after graduation. It’s definitely a student-loan-friendly move.
I float through my morning routine with even more pep in my step. Maybe it’s the walk or the call from Mark or the sun actually shining or the fact that I am riding the coattails of an amazing orgasm. But I don’t need to overanalyze it. I feel great.
* * *
Betty’s buzzes with the lunch crowd. Despite looking like the typical diner, the clientele consists mainly of suited businesspeople. I’m thankful for my instincts being correct when I decided to wear my khaki wrap-dress and brown heeled ankle boots.
“Angie, you look lovely,” Mark compliments, leaning down to press his lips to my cheek. His boldness shocks me speechless. I blink at the overly friendly gesture but brush it off as being such. “I reserved us a table. This place is always busy during the lunch hour.”
“Thanks.” I follow him into the back of the diner, passing by animated conversations and skirt-wearing waitresses with trays of homemade pie in hand. “Oh, that looks good,” I moan, not even aware that my words are out loud.
Mark turns to look at what I am talking about and grins. “Sweet tooth?”
I give him a sheepish smile. “Guilty.”
“Coming here and not getting pie is grounds for immediate dismissal.”
I laugh at the remark, happy that my sugar needs will be met. We slide into a booth facing each other. I order lemonade, and Mark gets a sparkling water. After our orders are taken, we jump straight into business.
