Carried Away

“Elvis. Elvis…where the hell is that cat. Elvis!”

Both of us freeze. Hot breaths mingling. I reach up and cover his mouth with my hand. He pressed the head of his erection into me and I cover my mouth with it instead.

“Is somebody here?”

“No,” I answer automatically.

“Okay.”

“I’ll be out in a minute.”

“Good. The wedding guests are leaving,” Nan answers. “And bring Jake with you.”

Chapter 12

“Musing of a High School Loser,” Hal reads the title of my column out loud, grinning from ear to ear. “Terrific. I loved it.”

Seeing his genuine reaction, I finally take a deep breath. We’re meeting in his office today to discuss the article, and I’ve been in a cold sweat until his very minute.

“Even better than I expected,” he says staring down at a printed copy.

“Really? You’re not just saying that, right? Because I wrote this at 4 a.m. high on Monster drinks and peanuts.”

“It’s funny, sweet, irreverent. This Kyle kid is really something special…” Glancing up, he takes his glasses off and laces his fingers together on the desk. “I think if you and Gray put your heads together and promote it on social media you’re going to earn quite a local following.”

Now it’s my turn to grin from ear to ear.

“I’m prepared to offer you a regular spot, your own column, if you think you can sustain the quality.”

There’s no question I can––but how can the paper afford it?

“What about the paper’s finances?”

“You write the articles. Let me worry about the money. Been doing it all my life. I’ll come up with something.”

Everything goes so well with Hal, on my way out, I invite Gray for coffee. I’ve been away from the Lakes for so long, he’s more likely to know what’s new and hot on the fringe, what’s on the come-up, than I would. Maybe he can point me in the right direction on where to look.

“So, Gray, you have a girlfriend?” I ask after we discussed that he wants to focus exclusively on online sports media. It seems everyone in his generation wants to be the next Barstool Sports. “A boyfriend? Both?”

His full lips kick up on one side. “Neither.”

“Why do I feel like I’m not getting the whole story?”

“Reporters, man…” he says shaking his head, a big grin spreading across his boyish face.

His dark brown gaze drops to the dark wood tabletop. He rolls the empty take-out cup between his hands. “There is someone I’m interested in…but…she’s not interested in me.”

“Now we’re getting somewhere. How do you know?”

“How do I know what? That I like her?” He makes a face. “I know. Trust me, I know.”

I can’t help but laugh. What a terrible job of acting coy. He’s more than interested. He has a major thing for someone.

“Does she actually know you like her?”

“Like…have I asked her out?”

“Yeah, Gray. Dating. I know you’re only twenty-two, but tell me you’ve dated before.”

In a lot of ways he reminds me of me at that age. I was just starting to figure it out as well. Unsure of myself but willing to try only to backpedal later when the opportunity presented itself.

“Yeah…I mean, not a lot. Some.” He fidgets in his seat. “A few times.”

“Let me give you a little advice,” I say, leaning forward conspiratorially. “God knows I’m no expert on dating myself, but I do know something about women having been one since birth…”

I have his complete attention. Unblinking, he stares at me as if jewels are about to drip from my lips.

“Women are attracted to confidence. It doesn’t matter how old, tall, rich, or handsome you are. If you can sell the confidence without being cheesy or gross, you’ll get the girl eventually.

“I’m not saying bravado. That’s not it. I’m saying the confidence that comes from believing in yourself. From within. You believe and other people will begin to agree with you…and when your chance comes, make sure you take it.”

“Confidence…” he murmurs, his gaze directed out the cafe window and faraway. Then he snaps out of it. “Let’s post your column on Facebook and Twitter.”

“Why the face, kid?” Nan asks from her chair near the fireplace, her trusty feline companion at her feet.

She’s working on her needlepoint. Comfort Cottages is famous for it. The hotel has been selling her signature needlepoint trimmed pillows and duvets for decades. And making a tidy profit too. When I saw the balance sheet, I thought it was a typo.

I’m restless and grouchy and I can’t seem to find anything to hold my interest. Presently, I started and DNFed two books and started and scraped a new column. Unlike Elvis who has an unhealthy interest in his privates.

“Elvis is licking his balls again.”

“Everyone should have a hobby,” Nan replies without missing a beat.

I came home from my coffee date with Gray to find out Jake went out of town without a word. Maybe that has something to do with it. But it’s not like he owes me an explanation. I have no right to be bruised about it. We shared a couple of kisses. Big deal. Were they fantastic kisses? Definitely. The best I’ve ever had? You bet.