Channel 20 Something

by Amy Patrick

  “The beach. Where were you?”

  “Bathtub. Scalding water, ice cold beer.”

  I jumped up as if my chair had become electrified. “Sounds… nice. I’ve got to go. To the set. Now. Thanks.” My words came out at machine gun speed. I nearly ran from the sports area, though there were still twelve minutes left until the show started.

  It had almost worked. If I’d been able to hold onto the peaceful feeling a bit longer, it might have. Sadly, I did end up dashing for the ladies room at five till ten, but I could see how the technique might eventually help me win my battle with performance anxiety. As long as the exercise wasn’t followed by a slow perusal of the most gorgeous guy I’d ever seen and a mental image of him soaking in a bathtub.

  Aric came out to the set during the final commercial break, as usual. Flashed me his usual charming grin. But nothing else was normal. I felt almost starved to see his face, to have the opportunity to study him at close range again. When he unfastened a couple of buttons to thread his microphone through his shirt, I caught a glimpse of his chest and thought I might pass out from the arrhythmia it caused. Maybe he had hypnotized me after all. Or maybe I’d finally admitted to myself… I liked him. Sugar. Not again.

  I couldn’t imagine a fate worse than falling for a guy like him—the guy everyone falls for, the guy who knows it. I fixed my eyes on the monitor in front of me, seemingly watching the sports highlights and Aric’s brief on-camera segments. In actuality, my peripheral vision was working hard, gathering details about him, the way he tapped one long, tan finger on the glass desktop as he read the prompter, the way he spread his legs under the desk, stretching his expensive-looking dark suit pants over muscled thighs, the way he raked a hand through his hair every time the show went to video, trying to tame a lock that refused to stop falling onto his forehead.

  Maybe I needed to see a hypnotist who’d convince me to… Just. Stop. It. My plan to work with Aric and remain unaffected by him was failing miserably.

  After the show he approached my desk. “Hey. So… I guess it didn’t really help you.”

  “No, it was good. It did work for a few minutes, and like you said, I need to practice. I think it’s actually going to help a lot. I appreciate it. You… you’ve been really nice to me.”

  “I like you Heidi. You’re a nice person—a little uptight, but nice.”

  “Hey,” I protested.

  “You’re not uptight?” He raised both brows and dipped his chin.

  “Maybe a little.”

  “And I think you’re really good. You have such great potential. I just thought I might be able to help. I hope you’re planning to send your reel out soon.”

  “Thank you. I will. A few more stand-ups, a couple more shows of anchoring and I’ll re-edit it. Thanks for your help this weekend. I couldn’t even have begun to do it all without you. I wish I could repay you somehow.”

  Aric seized me with an intense stare and paused as if he was about to suggest something, but he kept his mouth shut and sniffed a short laugh. “Not necessary. Well, goodnight, Heidi. Enjoy your days off.”

  “Yeah. You, too.”

  Chapter Twelve

  Station Policy

  Once it had occurred to me, I couldn’t get the idea out of my head all week long. Aric had been so generous to me, even when I’d acted inexplicably hot-then-cold toward him. I wanted to do something nice for him, too, to even the score. I hated feeling like I owed him something.

  The perfect idea came to me while watching Thursday night’s sports segment. Yes. Yes, yes, yes. He would love it. And it was so huge, it would totally pay him back for the vocal exercises, relaxation technique advice, and photography help. I picked up the phone and set up an interview for Sunday afternoon then went into the weekend assignments file on the newsroom computer system to block out a segment of time in each of our schedules.

  # # #

  “Not even one little hint?” Aric rode shotgun as I drove the news car to Starkville on Sunday.

  “Not even one. You’d never guess anyway.” I smiled at the perfect timing of my surprise. The day before had been busy for us both, which was good considering the new tension that seemed to live between us.

  Aric’s Saturday had been particularly hard thanks to the Bulldogs’ loss on the football field and the resulting short and gruff answers from the players and coach in the post-game press conference. Three words and a glare was the most any of the reporters had gotten from Coach Barlow.

  I drove to Turnberry Lane in Country Club Estates, a beautiful, well-manicured neighborhood on a large golf course in Starkville. I pulled the news car into the wide, cobble-stone circular driveway in front of a gracious brick home centering a two-acre lot.

  “Who lives here? A pro-athlete?” Aric asked as I stopped the car.

  I glanced at him and smiled. He stared at the house and appeared to be wracking his brain for a list of sports stars from Mississippi.

  “You’ll see,” I said.

  We got out of the car and opened the trunk. I looked up at him apologetically. “I know I’m the photog today, but if you don’t mind carrying the gear, it’ll go over better with our interview subject. He’s kind of old-fashioned.”

  “Of course—you know I want to carry it anyway. Okay, so retired pro athletes…” Aric continued his guessing game as we walked toward the house. “I know it’s not Brett Favre. He lives further south. Jerry Rice?”

  “Nope. Hold your Kentucky Derby racehorses there, mister. You’ll find out.”

  We climbed the front steps, pushed the doorbell, and stood listening to its chimes ring through the stately home while we waited on the wide, columned front porch.

  The wooden door was opened by a gray-haired man in a golf shirt and shorts, both emblazoned with the MSU sports logo.

  Aric’s jaw dropped. “Coach Barlow?” He whipped his head around to look at me, his eyes wide with fear that we’d accidentally ding-dong-ditched the head coach of the Bulldogs, who famously hated any and all media members.

  “Well, there she is,” the coach’s voice boomed. “Heidi, Heidi darlin’. Come here girl.”

  I stepped forward into the older man’s fatherly hug. “Hi Beebee.” I squeezed his generous tummy and stepped back to look at Aric, fighting the urge to laugh at his astounded expression.

  “Beebee… I mean, Coach Barlow, I’d like you to meet my friend Aric. He’s our new weekend sportscaster—you might have seen him at the press conferences the past couple of weekends.”

  “They’ve got so many flippin’ lights shining in my eyes at those things, I can’t see a flippin’ thing. So, you vouch for this kid, Heidi? He a good guy?”

  I glanced up at Aric. “He is, Coach. He really is.”

  “Well, if you say so, it’s good enough for me. Come on in, kids. We can sit in the den. I’m watching the Falcons game. What do you think of their new quarterback, Aric?”

  I followed the two men, one gray and grizzled, the other young and so vital he nearly took my breath away, and congratulated myself on pulling off the perfect coup. An in-depth exclusive interview with the elusive and legendary Bobby Barlow would earn Aric major kudos at work and most likely land his report on the national sports feed. And it would erase any obligation I might owe to Aric. I was brilliant.

  Two hours later we were exchanging handshakes and hugs at the front door, preparing to head off for our next shoot. Aric and I got into the car. He took the wheel this time, though he didn’t start the engine right away. Instead, he turned in his seat to stare at me.

  “Beebee?”

  I laughed. “When I was a baby I couldn’t say Mr. Barlow. Bobby came out sounding like Beebee. I guess it stuck.”

  “You never mentioned legendary SEC football coach Bobby Barlow used to change your diapers.”

  “Yeah, I wish he hadn’t mentioned that part either, but I did try to tell you once. You were just too busy calling my godfather an ‘asshole’ to listen.”

  “Actually, I
think I called him a dick. I take it back.”

  “You did a good job with him. It’s going to be a tremendous interview. And Dennis is gonna freak.”

  “Thanks. I did okay, but he was pretty much putty in my hands after his precious Heidi Darlin’ gave me the green light.” Aric stared at me with an expression of wonderment. “Thank you for setting that up. I know you’re putting an important family relationship on the line—I’m not going to burn you—I’ll make it good.”

  “I know.”

  # # #

  After the show I sat in an edit bay, adding that day’s package on a community cleanup at Lake Lowndes State Park to my reel. I watched the stand-up Aric had shot for me. The on-screen version of me walked along the bank of the lake under some shade trees, stooped and trailed my fingers through the water, then stood and walked toward the camera as I delivered my stand-up. The lighting was perfect, making my skin glow and my eyes seem extra bright and clear. Aric had done a great job with the camera work.

  “You look beautiful.” His deep voice came from behind me, lifting the wispy hairs on my arms and the back of my neck. He stepped into the tight, dark edit bay with me and rested his hands on the back of my chair, his knuckles brushing my back. The room instantly filled with his maddening scent and with something else, alive like a heartbeat and warm like a steamy tropical night. I twisted to see Aric looming over me.

  He dropped his eyes from the video monitor to my face. “Of course, you always look beautiful.” He gave me a smile that could’ve been marketed as an aphrodisiac.

  My belly went cliff-diving, swooping and falling at precarious speeds while all the air left my lungs at once, making it difficult to respond.

  “I… I didn’t know you were there. I’m pretty much done in here… if you need to get in.” A stupid thing to say, considering there were two other edit bays and we were probably the only ones left in the whole building now the newscast was over. I was completely unnerved—by his surprising words and by the fact that I was looking up at Aric from about groin-level. I stood and scooted toward the wall, attempting to reach the door without touching him.

  Instead of stepping aside to let me out, Aric moved further into the cramped space, forcing me to slowly back up until I met the padded wall.

  “What are you doing?” I was breathing like a last-place finisher in the Boston Marathon. If Aric had ever entertained any doubt about how much his nearness affected me, he had his answer now.

  “I came to check on you—see how your new and improved reel’s coming together.” The words were benign, but his voice, that voice was low and intimate.

  A hot tremble began in my middle and spread like an accelerant-boosted arson fire until it reached the rest of me. I pressed my shaking fingers to the wall on either side of my body, clenching the tips into the soundproof padding. Aric took another step closer, aligning the front of his body with mine, not quite touching, but oh so close. His beautiful neck was right at my eye level, allowing me to see his pulse beating beneath the smooth skin in a rhythm that matched my own supersonic heartbeat.

  Oh, this was bad. There was no reason for him to be here, inching closer to me, smiling down at me in that sweet, dark way, unless he felt it too. This crazy pull between us. I wanted him to go away. I wanted him closer. I wanted…

  “I want to kiss you,” he whispered. Aric’s head lowered, his lips hovering just above mine but not taking that final few millimeters of choice away from me.

  He’s letting me make the decision. There was no choice. I had to stop this right now and get away from him. I’d let it get too far already. I spread my hands on his chest, meaning to push him away. I didn’t. His body felt so good under my fingertips, the motion I’d intended never happened. The sunny, beachy-fresh scent of him swirled around me, making me light-headed and unsteady. I moved my head slowly back and forth in a “no” gesture. But my mouth pressed upward to meet his in a very definite oh yes.

  Aric’s lips touched mine and moved against them, a slow caress. Then he deepened the kiss. And wow. How do you describe something you thought you’d understood but suddenly realized you had no idea about? I mean, there’s kissing, and then there’s kissing. Aric’s mouth moved with mine in hot, wet strokes that sent pleasure screaming through me. My body temperature rocketed, spontaneous combustion suddenly seeming like a perfectly legitimate life choice.

  I rose onto my tiptoes. His arms went around me, pulling me into him, helping me get closer, but not close enough. I slid my hands up around his neck, into his hair, wanting to touch all of him, wanting things I hadn’t allowed myself to want in a very long time.

  He kissed me until I was a weak, shivering mass of overstimulated nerve endings and there was no doubt left we were never going to be “just friends.” Aric’s hands slid from my back to my sides, coasting up, up, until the heels of them barely brushed the sides of my breasts. There was a rapidly compounding demand low in my body insisting that if I didn’t do something to stop this, I would be in Aric’s bed tonight, or he’d be in mine, or we might make do with the edit bay, which was growing more and more likely by the minute.

  No. Once I went there with him, there’d be no going back for me. I’d be the little turtle again and have only myself to blame for swimming straight into the waiting jaws of the alligator. Then it would be up to him whether to swallow me whole or let me get away with just a few teeth marks. I couldn’t handle that level of risk. Even four years after Josh, my shell was still pretty banged up. Maybe it always would be.

  I pushed at Aric, pulling my mouth away. “No. Please, we’ve got to stop.”

  Aric lifted his mouth but stayed pressed against me, his hands still buried deep in my hair. A phone rang somewhere in the newsroom. Aric glanced back in its direction and let out a hot breath. “You’re right. This is not the place.” He shook his head and smiled like someone coming off of an exhilarating but dizzying roller coaster ride. “I’ve been waiting a long time to do that. Since the first night when you drove me crazy on the dance floor. I’m so glad you said ‘yes.’”

  “I didn’t say yes.” My protest sounded pathetically false, even to me.

  “If you want to get technical. But your non-verbal response seemed like an affirmative answer. Unless my body language interpretation is way off.” Aric’s lower half pressed gently into me again, causing me to catch my breath.

  He felt so hard, so good, so tantalizingly right. Without my permission, my body surged forward to meet his, desire overcoming willpower.

  Feeling my heated response, Aric grinned and lowered his mouth to mine again.

  “No.” I pushed at him, not hard, but firmly enough that he stepped back with a baffled expression. “This isn’t what I want, Aric.”

  His hands went to his hips and his head dropped, his breaths purposeful and deep. He looked back up at my face. “Could’ve fooled me.”

  “I know, but—let’s keep the discussion between our brains instead of our… our…”

  “Tongues?” he suggested helpfully, a wicked smile playing on his lips. “Lips? Boy and girl parts?”

  “Our… libidos.”

  Aric laughed. He turned and left the edit bay. I followed him as he kept walking toward the newsroom door and the station’s main hallway.

  “Where are you going?” I said.

  “For a walk.” The clipped words came over his shoulder as he continued moving away from me.

  “A walk? Right now? We were talking. Are you mad?”

  He stopped and turned around. “No. I’m not mad. But while your brain may want to discuss things, I’ve got another body part that still wants in on the conversation. And I can’t spend any more time around that pretty mouth of yours until I get some blood back into my brain. Give me a few minutes. I’ll be back.”

  After about ten minutes, Aric did come back, windblown and pink-cheeked from the outdoors. He walked right up to my desk and sat on the edge, folding his arms across his chest. “So what happened?”

>   “I’m sorry, I know I led you on by not stopping it sooner, but—”

  “No, I’m not talking about a few minutes ago. I mean whatever it was that happened to you before. What was it? Bad breakup? Did Hale threaten you if you date anyone else or something?”

  “Oh no. Hale’s not like that. He’s a great guy. We just… why do you think something happened?”

  “Because the signals you send out are more mixed than a Scrillex song.”

  “Oh.” He was right. Not only had I just kissed him like I was starved for him then cut him off and left him high and dry, I’d been acting strangely for weeks. Of course he’d noticed. Obviously I couldn’t tell him the truth. “Well, it’s… obviously I… like you, but… I’m still involved with someone else,” I lied. “And I’m not ready to get involved with anyone new right now.”

  “We don’t have to ‘get involved.’”

  I had to laugh at the way his tone left the thought hanging. “What are you saying? We don’t have to date? You’re fine with just having meaningless sex in an edit bay?”

  “Well, if you’re offering…” He paused, his suggestive expression turning serious. “No, really. I understand not wanting to rush into a relationship. After what happened with my parents, I’ve never been anxious to get serious, either. We’re too young. But I don’t see why we can’t spend some time together, have fun.”

  “We already do spend time together.”

  “That’s not what I mean, and you know it. I’d actually like to lay eyes on you outside of work hours. Are you trying to tell me you wouldn’t? I mean, Heidi—this is getting ridiculous.” He gestured between the two of us. “You have to admit there’s something going on here beyond reciprocal photography.”

  “Fine. Yes, I like you. I’m attracted to you. But we’re not going to do anything about it.”

  “We’re not?”

  “No. We’re going to work together and be friends and… and pretend like tonight didn’t happen.”