Ruined (6 page)

"No." I am positive that seeing me drunk will upset my mother quite a bit.

"Then stay. I live here alone, and you can get some sleep." I look around and realize this isn't a dorm room. It's a nice apartment or condo of some kind, and I can still hear the ocean waves.

"Where are we?"

"Just off campus. Lexington Glen." Whoa. Those are the nicest condos in town. Bruce owns the complex, so I ought to know.

"Nice place," I say.

"You should know," he says with a smile.

"Yeah, well, Bruce might be rich but I'm not. This is an impressive place you've got here."

"Oh, please, Willow," he says as he sits down beside me. "Your house is a mansion on the beach. This must look like a shoebox to you."

"I hate our house. It's too big and impersonal and white. It doesn't feel like home," I say, thinking back to a time in my life that seems decades ago but is only four years. I once had a real home, and in the blink of an eye it was gone.

"Then why do you stay there? Why not live in the dorms or an apartment?"

"My mother needs me," I say, although I'm not sure if that's the truth or the reverse of it. I need her to help me keep my secret.

"I've seen your mother, Willow. She looks pretty spry to me," he says with a chuckle. Is he commenting on how my mother looks? I mean, she's a knockout for her age with her toned, tan body and blond hair, but he's way too young to be ogling my mother.

"Gross," I say rolling my eyes.

"That's not what I meant. Jeez, calm down. I simply mean that she is involved in activities all over town. She seems energetic."

I look at him and smile. "Sorry." I sigh and put my head back against the couch. "You must think I'm a complete lunatic."

"A little," he says, and I sit up and smack his leg. "No, really, I don't think that. I was worried that you were a typical college party animal, though."

"Well, I'm not. At all. But why aren't you? You seem a little straight laced, Reed Miller."

He smirks and then laughs, which is a weird combo. "I have a lot riding on this, Willow. That station will either make or break my future. I have a lot to prove to certain people, and I don't intend to fail. Nothing gets in my way, that's just how I roll."

He's acting so serious that is strikes me as humorous. "Yeah, you're a gangsta, alright." I realize too late that he didn't think my comment was so funny. He stares at me for a moment before speaking.

"I'm going to bed now, so make yourself at home. I'll drive you back to your house in the morning." He stands up and walks out. I don't know why what I said hit him so hard, but it obviously did. I grab a blanket from the chair beside me, pull it up around my neck and turn off the table lamp. I couldn't have screwed this day up more if I tried.

The morning sun wakes me like a hammer. Streaming through the blinds, I feel it piercing my already pounding brain.

I can smell bacon cooking, and for a moment I'm transported back in time to a place where I'm safe and comfortable. My mother is cooking breakfast for me before school, and my father is sitting in his favorite recliner watching the morning news. From the outside, the scene looks picture perfect, and oh how I wish that was true. How I wish that my life had been a scene from a Norman Rockwell painting. But, it wasn't. Still, I don't want to open my eyes. I want to remain in my make believe world for just a few moments more.

"You're awake. Come eat something. It'll make you feel better," Reed says as he reaches a hand down to me. I take his hand and he pulls me up. The room feels uneven like I'm going to slide to the right. "Take it easy," he says softly as he puts his arm around my waist. The touch sends electricity through my body, and I never want the feeling to end.

He leads me into the kitchen and hands me some orange juice. I take a sip and start to feel better after a few minutes. He's quite the cook with bacon and eggs and biscuits ready for me to eat.

"I can't believe you did all this," I say looking at him incredulously.

"You do like breakfast, don't you?" he asks with a smile.

"Well, yes…"

"Then you need to eat. You had a rough night last night, so you need to start your day off a little bit better." He grabs a plate and loads it up with food, bringing it over to the table and pointing for me to sit down.

"I'm really sorry I upset you last night. I was just joking around, but obviously that's a touchy subject." I take a bite of my bacon, relishing the crunch of it. He cooks it just like my mother used to.

"It's no big deal. I overreacted really. I mean, you don't know me or where I'm from or what I'm about, so it probably seemed dramatic to you. Let's just say that I have a lot to prove in my family, and I don't intend to fail no matter what."

"I admire that. I wish I had that kind of drive and determination, but right now I'm just getting by." What am I saying? I'm not supposed to be revealing too much about my past, and it's only going to make him wonder more about me.

"I can tell you're a pretty reserved person when it comes to your personal life. And that's okay. I'm not going to ask you any questions, so don't worry." He smiles, and I realize that he must be some kind of mindreader because he always seems to know what I'm thinking about.

"I am pretty protective of my personal life, but I'm very serious about my journalism career. That's why I'm hoping that you'll give me a second chance with the internship. I promise that what happened last night won't happen again. It was a mistake, but I promise that I will be focused on the station and nothing else."

He chuckles and sits down, taking a bite of his bacon. "Willow, I know you're a college student just like I am. I'm not saying that you have to give up your entire life for our little TV station. I don't expect that. I know that you'll date and have a personal life, and I won't interfere with that. I just want to make sure that you're serious about the job while you're there."

"You won't have to worry about me dating. I really don't do that. And I will be focused if you give me another chance on the internship." At this point, I probably sound like I'm begging, which I am.

"The internship is yours, Willow. There was never any question about that. I was just aggravated and took it out on you." He smiles, and it does a little something to my insides. I can't put my finger on it, but it always feels like he might be flirting with me. And then he pulls back.

I can understand the pulling back part more than the flirting part. My whole life is about pulling back. Don't get too close to happiness or it can burn you. Don't trust people because they will eventually fail you. Don't let your guard down because when you do, the other shoe drops and you're spiraling into a pit of despair. Ah, happy morning thoughts.

"Thank you," I finally say, relieved that he isn't throwing me out on my ass.

"So, Monday is your first broadcasting class I take it?"

"Yeah. I'm pretty nervous," I say, taking a sip of my drink.

"Why?"

"I've never been in front of a camera before."

"You'll do fine. You have the perfect face for television," he says with a smile.

"You think so?"

"I know so. News directors will be chasing you after graduation."

"Well, I don't feel so perfect right now."

"You'll get everything you need in class. The professors are great about preparing you for the real world. Relax, Willow," he says as he reaches out and touches my hand. The simple touch unnerves me. Normally, I don't like people touching me without an invitation, but his touch doesn't bother me. It soothes me.

"Thanks," is all I can manage to say again. He must think that I don't have a very wide vocabulary.

"So, tell me, what made you want to be a Journalist anyway?" he asks as we get back to mundane conversation, only this question is just as loaded as any other.

"I want to tell true stories without a slant. I want people to get a fair shake in the media for once and not be branded villains without the whole story being told."

"You think that's possible?" he asks with a laugh.

"Don't you? Are you that jaded?" Oops, there I go again.

"Not jaded. I'm a realist, Willow. The media is what it is, and it will always be that way. Even as a reporter, you'll be working for a big station and you'll have to do things their way or get fired. You won't have nearly the control over your stories that you think you will."

"Well, I prefer to be optimistic. Someone has to change the world, right?" I try to brush off his comments, but they do bother me. Am I strong enough to be the Lone Ranger of the media?

"I admire your optimism," he says, raising his glass of orange juice. "So, what are your plans today, Miss Blake?"

"No plans really. Same as usual," I say as I rub a smudge off the side of my glass.

"Good. Then how about we try the whole working in the editing suite today?" He's referring to what I missed last night, and I feel bad all over again.

"Sure. I'll just run home and get changed into something less..."

"Smoky and smelly?" he says.

"Do I smell that bad?" I ask as I try to smell my own armpit without him noticing.

"Like a mixture of beer and a charred house."

"Lovely."

He starts laughing, and for the first time I see a playful side of Reed. "It's okay, Willow. I'm just messing with you. You don't smell that bad. I like the smell of burnt wood and hobo." I smack him on the arm across the table and growl. Yep, this Reed Miller is quite a character when he wants to be. And hot. Never forget the hot part.

After breakfast, we load into his car - since he refused to let me walk the beach - and head to my house. When we pull up, he comes around and opens my door.

"How chivalrous of you," I say with a nod.

"Even smelly people deserve chivalry, Smoky," he says. Again, I smack him on the arm but this time harder. "Ouch. What are you, a boxer? Jeez..." He's still complaining as I key the lock to the front door and invite him inside.

"Willow Blake!" my mother shouts as she comes out of the kitchen with her hair in a messy bun and her bathrobe on. "Where have you been all night?"

"Sorry, Mom. I went to a beach party and then stayed at a friend's house." I can tell that Reed would like to run for the hills out the front door, but he stands still.

"You could have called. I've been worried sick. You know how things can happen, Willow..." she says, tears welling in her eyes.

"I'm sorry, Mom," I say as I walk over and hug her. I do know all too well that "things can happen", so I feel really bad about making her worry.

"Mrs. Avery, part of this is my fault." Reed suddenly pipes in.

"And you are?"

"Reed Miller. My father is Henry Tate Miller, attorney at law." Everyone knows Reed's father apparently, and my mother's eyes get big.

"I know Henry. We volunteer at the soup kitchen together on Thanksgiving. I didn't know you knew Willow. You're not the son who just graduated law school?"

"No, ma’am. Much to my father's dismay and disapproval, I'm the black sheep who's going to Journalism school. That's how I know Willow. I gave her an internship at the college TV station, and we ran into each other last night at the party. We ended up talking so late that I didn't want her to try to get home alone, so she stayed on my couch. I'm sorry she worried you. I should have reminded her to call."