The Stopover (The Miles High Club 1)
“Come in.” He drags me into his converted garage.
I couldn’t sleep last night. I was worried about my feelings, and I can’t stop thinking about stupid Jameson Miles. I got up and went straight to the airport and caught the flight out. I look around Robbie’s tiny studio apartment and at the empty pizza boxes and dirty glasses lying around. “What have you been doing?” I ask.
“Nothing much.” He smiles; he lies on the bed and taps it beside him. I lie down, and he slides his hand up my top as he looks down at me.
“Did you go to any job interviews this week?” I ask.
“Nah, nothing suited me.”
I frown. “Any job is a good job . . . isn’t it?” I ask hopefully.
“I’m waiting for the right one.” He kisses me softly.
I stare up at him as I feel his erection grow up against my leg. “Robbie, come back to New York with me. There are so many jobs there, and it would be a fresh start for you. We could discover the city together.”
He snatches his hand away from my breast and pulls away from me. “Don’t start your fucking shit. I told you I’m not moving to New York.”
I sit up in a rush. “What’s stopping you? You have no job here. What’s holding you back? Explain it to me.”
“I like living here. I don’t pay rent, and my mother cooks all my food. I have a good deal here. Why would I leave?”
“You’re twenty-five, Robbie.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” he snaps.
“Don’t you want to support yourself and experience something different?”
“No. I like it here.”
“You need to grow up,” I snap, and we both stand up.
“And you need to come back to fucking earth. The world doesn’t revolve around you.”
“I want to live in New York.” I take his hand as I try to get through to him. “You should see New York, Robbie. You would love it there. It has this vibe like I’ve never felt anywhere else.”
“New York is your dream, Emily, not mine. I’m never moving there.”
 
; Oh hell. We are worlds apart. “How are we supposed to be together from different sides of the country?” I ask softly.
He shrugs. “You should have thought of that before you applied for this stupid job.”
“It’s not a stupid job.” I plead, “Don’t you want to support me in my dream? Are you going to come and visit me at all?”
“I told you—I don’t like cities.”
“So what you’re saying is, if I don’t fly back to California, I won’t see you at all.”
He shrugs and sits down and picks up his PlayStation remote.
“Are you serious?” I snap as I begin to see red. “I flew all the way home to discuss our future, and you’re going to play fucking Fortnite.”
He rolls his eyes and starts the game. “Quit your nagging.”
“Quit my nagging,” I snap. “I don’t want to live in your fucking parents’ garage, Robbie.”
“Don’t, then.”