by K. P. Haigh
There's no way AFM is going to let that kind of anti-sensational, unbiased work stand. Hell no. That doesn't stop people while they're scrolling through their Facebook feed. Hell, it doesn't even show up on their Facebook feed because the vast majority of people don't share it. I mean, it doesn't even have a top ten list.
"We'll pay for the photos we've already asked for, but beyond that, no." Olive runs her fingers along the edge of her notepad without looking up.
"Okay." I don't know what else to say. It seems pretty cut and dry. My job is gone, and there aren't a lot of legal loopholes for either party to get lost in on the way from employed to unemployed.
"I'm happy to be a reference for you." Olive stops staring down and looks me in the eye. "You've been an outstanding asset, both as a photographer and as a colleague."
I mumble a thank you and start to stand up. I have the sudden urge to hug her—this might be the last time I ever step foot in this office—but Olive doesn't really seem like the hugging sort. I reach out my hand like an awkward end to a first date.
First and last date, apparently.
She stands up and shakes it. That's it then.
I am unemployed. There's a whole swamp of emotions I should be drawing from. Instead, I want to skip out of the building, but I hold back. It's kind of like wearing neon floral to a funeral—it's a statement, and not the kind you want to make.
I'm going to move to Seattle. I knew it before I even walked in the door. I knew it when I left that party Saturday night. I felt the tectonic shift of my bones in that direction. They were on their way, even if my brain was working to catch up.
But the past half hour? It's as if the universe is saying Nice job, Monty, I approve of your life choices.
Now, I'm going to walk out of this office building and go straight home to message every single human under the sun I know that might have a job lead.
It's funny how that happens. When you stand still, the world whips around you like you're standing in the middle of a tornado. You have no idea which way to turn. Everything is a kicked-up, dusty mess whirling about. When you finally step forward, when you finally make the decision to move, you see there's a path right in front of you. And oh hey, your favorite flowers are growing up ahead, and no shit, there's totally a rainbow just beyond that. Ohmygod, double rainbow? What?
The universe rewards taking action, and that's what I'm finally doing.
I'm finally moving forward, and it feels damn good.
Somewhere between Main Street and State Street, I have the grand idea that I should wait to tell Baron. The image of surprising him with my packed boxes on Saturday morning is already a sepia-toned GIF in my brain.
That thought carries me through fourteen hours of packing and emailing about potential jobs, but as soon as I see his name flash on the screen of my phone, I know I can't hold it in.
I swipe right and press the phone to my ear. "I'm moving to Seattle!" I shout.
There is stunned silence on the other end.
"Baron?" Wait, did he butt dial me?
"Yeah. I'm here, just shell-shocked…and excited. Holy shit, you're moving out here?"
"Yes!" My life is an exclamation mark right now: upright and full of energy.
"I can't believe it. I hoped you'd say yes, but I kept my mouth shut. I didn't want to push you…"
"Well, I'm saying yes. I already found some free boxes on Craigslist, and I am drowning in a sea of piles."
"Monty. You're moving here." The pure happiness in his voice as he processes the news makes my heart race.
This is the right decision. I'm moving forward, and everything in my view is like a picture-perfect sunrise.
"I get to see you in five days." He sounds like a little kid before Christmas. "And then I get to take you home with me."
"If I ever finishing packing. I've been at it all day, and I don't know how I'm going to get it all done."
"Packing sucks."
"You should have told me that before I said yes."
Baron laughs. "I'm not an idiot."
"Of course not. You snagged me."
"Yeah. Yeah, I did." I hear him take a deep breath. "Monty, I can't wait to have you here. I want you in my life, and I'm really glad I don't have to let you go."
I wish I could curl up into him and kiss him right now. "Me too."
In five days, I can, and I won't have to stop.
Everything is packed. My life fits neatly into thirty-four boxes and two suitcases. I thought it would be harder. When I left the office on Monday, my excitement was quickly tempered by a swift get-shit-done mode.
End lease. Mourn the loss of a chunk of your savings for breaking said lease. Pack things. Go spend three hours with Andie while she studies. Don't talk to her, just be in her presence and try to soak in as much wonderful BFFness as you can through osmosis. See parents. Try to not bawl your eyes out.
Andie's sitting outside on the front concrete steps of her apartment building with me, waiting for Baron to drive up. My legs are bouncing wildly, but I don't want to stand up. I want to take her with me, even though that's not a remotely feasible option. I don't have a ticket for her, and while she's tiny enough to fit into a piece of luggage, I don't think she'd take too kindly to being hauled through the air in the cargo hold of an airplane. There's also the whole pursuing her dream to become a pediatric surgeon thing. Geez, stop being so selfish, Andie. The sick kids of the world don't really need your genius.
I've avoided this for so long, this bittersweet feeling of change. Nothing will be the same again. Even if I come back in three months, life will continue moving along here without me, and I won't be the same person for having had this experience.
"Earth to Monty?" Andie nudges me.
"Sorry, just a little distracted. What were you saying?"
"Just that I'm going to add hospitals in Seattle to my list of residency programs to apply to, so at least I can fly out for an interview and visit."
"Right, matching. That's coming up?" Everything she's saying is skimming the surface like a rubber ducky floating along a lazy river. I am in Baron la-la land. It's been three weeks, six days, and five hours since I last saw him—well, since I saw him in person at least. There are just certain aspects of video calling that don't really measure up to real life.
Andie shakes her head. "I get it. You're finally going to get laid. It's cool. I'd be thinking about that too if it were even a remote possibility in my world. As it stands, the only thing that's screwing me is my current rotation schedule."
"Aren't there like hook-ups in the on-call rooms or something?"
"Real life is not Grey's Anatomy."
"Well, maybe you should change that."
"With who? One of the other exhausted, extremely overworked med students? Please, I'd have better luck getting an attending in bed, and trust me, none of them look at all like McDreamy or McSteamy. So, I'll just stick to living vicariously through you." Andie starts to sing. "Someone's gonna have sex toniiiight."
"It's gonna be really late when we get there."
My cheeks are bright red, but my lady parts are blue. I have been thinking about this for way too long, and the anticipation is unbearable. I keep telling myself I can handle another six hours, but horny waits for no one.
"Whatever. Drink some coffee and suck it up. I want details. I mean, the man's got some big hands." Andie waggles her eyebrows playfully.
Yup. Just add more kindling to the fire here.
A black sedan pulls up and parks. Speak of the devil.
Baron's Prius is already out in Seattle and I sold my car to help pad my savings account, so he got a rental for the weekend. I've been sweating bullets waiting for something, anything in response to the ten thousand emails I've sent out over the past few days. One finally came through today: an old professor of mine set up an interview for an assistant gig out in Seattle. I go in on Monday, and I'm pretty much willing to hand over my soul, my kidney, and my old Polly Pocket collection in or
der to land it.
My heart starts to race, and not because I'm thinking about Baron's glove size. I pull Andie in for a hug. "It's not goodbye, okay?"
"Nope." I hear the crack in her voice. "You're going to see more of me on video chat in a month than you saw me in person for the past year."
I don't know how people moved across the country and left their family and friends before the Internet. Being able to still see their faces is going to keep me sane, and my heart needs more than a static JPEG saved on my computer's hard drive.
Baron steps around the front of the car and walks toward us. He's wearing a t-shirt and jeans, but the way my brain reacts, you'd think he was wearing a three-piece tux. It's one part hubba hubba mixed with three parts knee-buckling swoon.
He reaches out and pulls me into his broad chest, and I feel my lungs expand to twice their original size, as if simply being around him gives me more air to breathe.
"Hi," he whispers against my forehead as his lips brush my skin. I sink into the feeling of having him close, and it’s heaven.
We pull away and Baron turns to Andie. "Hey, thanks for letting me steal your best friend."
"No problem, Bear—I mean, Baron." Andie fumbles. She has fielded my nonstop texts for the past few weeks like a pro, but I know she's still awestruck over the celebrity status of my boyfriend.
Baron looks down at me. "You ready to go?"
I reach out and pull Andie in for a group hug. I think she might be squeezing Baron harder than me, but she also doesn't get to take him home tonight.
Shit. I'm taking him home tonight. It still doesn't feel real.
None of this does. My eyes start to sting and I let go of Andie.
"Call me tomorrow and tell me about your, um, flight?" She nudges me awkwardly.
I laugh under my breath. "You got it."
Baron grabs my bags and puts them in the trunk while I give Andie another hug. I can't say goodbye, but I also can't stay.
"Go. You've got a flight to catch and a boy to board." She smacks me on the butt, prodding me to get in the car.
I close the door and she walks back to the stairs of her apartment building. She waves at me wildly, but I know her throat has the same lump in it that mine does.
Baron shifts the car into drive and looks over at me. "We'll be back before you know it."
My life is pulling away from the station, and even though I'm excited about where I'm headed, I can't help but stare out the window at the scenery of what I'm leaving behind as it slowly fades into a blur.
Baron passes out the moment the plane starts to pull away from the gate, and I can't blame him. As hard as my week has been, I had one job: neatly fit my life into cardboard boxes. Baron was pushed to his physical limit in practices all week, hopped on a red-eye, and worked on the last ten percent of moving that takes forever.
Seriously, screw that ten percent. The random can of plant food from a fern that died two years ago. The excess amount of hair ties you find EVERYWHERE. The stack of magazines you promised you would get to but still sit in a pile untouched.
I'm so glad to be done, especially when I'm sitting in a first class seat to Seattle. Baron told me he'd have his personal assistant take care of booking my ticket and finding a kickass studio apartment in my price range. I tried to argue, but I was too stunned by the fact that he had an assistant. Is this even real life?
Still, even in a seat that could fit two of me plus a mini fridge at my feet, I'm struggling to relax. I'm sitting next to a man I've known for a little less than two months, and I'm moving across the country with him.
Oh, I know. I'm moving toward the call of adventure, but in this case, adventure has a seriously nice ass that puts on glorified tights to go to work. It's kind of obvious that I'm not just doing this for the hell of it.
I've tried to let Game of Thrones distract with me with its Drogo sex appeal and plot twists galore, but I just keep looking over at Baron. He's even better than Drogo, and it's all I can do to not wake him up and find a quiet corner of this airplane to take advantage of that fact.
The familiar ding of the seatbelt light flashes like an ugly yellow omen, and the captain's voice clicks on over the PA system: “We're heading into some turbulence. Please return to your seats while the fasten seatbelt sign is turned on. Thank you.”
Welcome to the other reason why my travel dance card is a sad misfit standing at the side of high school prom while everyone else is out on the dance floor. I hate the roller coaster feeling—not the emotional, I'm so happy, oh my god, now I'm so sad and nothing will ever be fun again feeling, no; the literal riding-on-a-roller-coaster feeling.
I despise it, especially while I'm strapped inside a metal tin can of recycled air as it flies thirty thousand feet in the air and could tumble down in a fiery crash at any moment.
Yes, I recognize that I'm more likely to die in a car than an airplane. Does that mean my brain suddenly becomes rational when we hit the pockets of wind that turn my stomach into a gold-medal Olympic gymnast? I didn't ask for a double back handspring back tuck; I don't care how talented my stomach thinks it is.
The plane starts to jostle, and my hands fly out to hold on to the arm rests. I look over and see Baron sleeping as if the flight attendant slipped him an Ambien with his water. I mean, if that's first class service, sign me up.
Considering I didn't get the same offer, I'm assuming this is just another reason his nickname is Bear. He certainly sleeps like one.
Game of Thrones is still playing on my laptop, but I don't have the mental capacity to pay attention. No, I use all my energy on silently repeating Please don't fall out of the sky over and over, as if it will actually help the two pilots sitting up front do their jobs. One thing's for sure: I'm not stopping.
By the time the light dings off thirty minutes later, my knuckles are white, and I bet my face matches them. I'm a walking corpse. Thanks air travel; let's do this again sometime.
I have been sitting in my seat with my legs crossed so tightly, I think my calves have lost circulation for life. I've had to pee this whole time, but there was no way I was going to stand up while the light was on. I still don't want to, even with it off.
I slowly lift the clasp of the buckle and stretch out my legs. My bladder expands into the extra room, and rather than making the situation better, I feel like I'm going to pee my pants—not exactly the look I'm going for to entice Baron into bed tonight.
I pop up and race to the front cabin restroom, quickly shutting the door. I thank my past ingenious self for deciding to wear a dress, and I squat over the toilet. I look around, and I swear it’s not just the first class cabin that gives you an extra two feet of legroom—the bathroom is bigger too. I could have a tiny dance party in here and bust out my grossly underrated grocery cart move.
I flush the toilet and recoil at the aggressively loud noise; it sounds like it just shot its entire contents halfway out the plane.
Someone knocks on the door, and I quickly glance at the latch to make sure it's firmly secured in the ‘occupied’ position.
"Monty? Are you okay?" Baron's voice sounds like it's up against the other side of the folding door. I quickly finish pulling my dress down and shift the latch to ‘unoccupied.’ I open it and am six inches away from a wide chest of pure sex appeal. God, I want to take you home right now.
"Yeah. Are you okay?" I ask. His hands are pressed against each side of the doorway, and he's leaning in with a concerned look pulling at his face. I can't figure out why my bathroom break has him in a panic. He pushes into the bathroom, and my suspicions are confirmed—it really is bigger than a coach bathroom. You couldn't fit the two of us into the bathroom at the back of a plane if you had ten sticks of butter and a crowbar.
"Yeah. One of the attendants woke me up when you rushed to the bathroom. She said you looked like you were having a tough time in the turbulence. I didn't even notice it. I was out. I'm sorry. You can always wake me up if you need me."
The wor
ry hasn't left his face, and I reach up to touch his cheek, trying to ease his concern.
My heart skips a beat. How many men would have gotten up to check on me? Maybe half of them. How many of those men would have walked right into the bathroom to be there for me? A verbal check through the thin accordion door would have satisfied their need to help.
Baron is the kind of man who steps up. It doesn't matter who he is or how many people are following his stats right now.
I take a deep breath and roll my shoulders back down. "I'm okay. I was a little freaked out, but really I just had to pee." I want to add because I drank two cans of ginger ale and a bottle of water while you were sleeping, but there's a line, and that's dipping the toe on the wrong side.
Baron leans in and presses a kiss to my forehead. I close my eyes and relish the sensation of my world slowing down while I'm cruising hundreds of miles per hour through the air.
He lifts his head up and tucks a piece of hair behind my ear. "I know today is a lot. It's a big deal, and I appreciate how much you're changing your life to take a chance…"
On us. Those two little syllables are silent, and yet it's as if someone took them out of their vacuum-sealed bag and they inflated to fill the entire space.
I don't think I've ever wanted a man more in my life. It's about so much more than sex. I feel connected to Baron in a way that makes me want him on every single level.
Preferably right now.
I press a quick kiss to his lips, and then bend my knees and let them drop softly to the floor. I am going to have to wash this dress in the hottest water known to man, but it is going to be so worth it.
"Montgomery." I love the way he says my name, as if he has to use each and every syllable to communicate his need for me.
He moans as I weave his leather belt out of the buckle and through the metal clasp, slipping it loose and quickly undoing the button and zipper of his pants. I press them down and reach in to grasp the hardening length of him, feeling the blood pulsing to meet me. I pull him out to meet my mouth and run my lips over the long stretch of soft skin. I want to taste every inch, to find the spots that make him stop and close his eyes, the parts that stop his world wholly and completely.