The things I did so I wouldn't have to report on a bakery that refused to bake cakes for Norwegians. I hated when my boss was right.

I was driving to the outskirts of Norfolk. Apparently in our time apart, Bruce had been doing quite well for himself. He flourished in his school, and was his team's first round draft pick. He's been a full on star for the league, people comparing him to Michael Jordan, if Michael Jordan played football. He had countless endorsements, merchandise, and kids looked at him as a role model.

I didn't know what to think of that. How I knew Bruce, though yeah, he was someone you'd want kids to emulate. There was that whole using me thing though, and it was hard to forget. It was hardly the best example a man could be putting on about how to treat women with respect and like human beings. Still, I guess that part of his personality hadn't come out yet. He'd been scandal free for the most part, the worst being that some asshole in an airport being incredibly angry that he didn't get an autograph for ambushing Bruce right as he got off a plane at 3 AM.

The things you read about when doing research for your story.

As for me, I didn't hate football as vehemently as I would have led Chuck to believe. It was mostly that it reminded me of Bruce, to the point where just seeing a pigskin filled me with memories, both sweet and sour. It led me to being completely ignorant of the changes, such as Norfolk getting a major football team in the past few years. It was probably not the best attitude to have if I wanted to become a world renown news reporter.

Bruce's mansion was quite the sight. His success had brought him great wealth, and he wasn't being humble about it. He always talked about how he wanted the absolute best things in life, dreaming about owning his own helicopter, and how he would take me on rides with it and enjoy the views.

I shook my head loose of the nostalgia. I was here for business. I needed to ignore the thoughts that were lurking in my head, the part of me that foolishly forgot that it was all part of an elaborately long game to get into my panties.

That he succeeded at. That I let him fuck me bareback, no less.

I cringed at the thought, but was happy my risk ultimately resulted in nothing. I loathed the idea of having his child now, when once there was nothing I desired more. Even now, I still had that desire for motherhood, which was at odds with my complete lack of desire for men. It wasn't that I desired women now instead, I just didn't desire anyone. No one was worth the pain they could inflict on me via betrayal and heartbreak.

Turning into his driveway, I saw the little helicopter that was sitting on top of his mansion. Of course he ended up getting one. I wondered if he knew how to fly it.

Driving up to the door, I breathed heavily. Chuck told me he didn't know who was coming, just that he was expecting a journalist coming from the Norfolk Courier to come by and give him an interview. He was told we wanted him to discuss his life, his upbringing, his dreams and goals as a person. It was odd, but I was sure I could have probably wrote a solid story without even talking to him. When you're that close to someone for that long, you learn everything about them.

Sometimes, though, people change. Six years was a long time. Sure, he probably wasn't radically different. He was probably still a bastard underneath it all. A good part of me wanted to turn my car back on and roar it right back out of here. I didn't know what I was going to feel when I saw him. When I ran from him in that cafe years ago, I was really close to smashing something over his head.

Now? God, I didn't know. The uncertainty scared the hell out of me.

Still, Chuck was right again in other avenues. He wasn't a dangerous man. In that sense, I could stand to be professional around him.

A deep breath, and I opened my car's door. My legs felt like they were made of lead as a I walked up to the front door of the mansion. I wondered if he had servants running around. No, he wouldn't, remembering that he thought the idea creepy when we were watching TV all those years ago.

I hated that I had such an encyclopedic knowledge of him. I wanted to purge him from my mind completely, but it seemed like it was an impossible task for me to accomplish.

Pressing the bell, I contemplated knocking too, instincts telling me the bell sometimes doesn't work. That was usually for places that weren't worth several million dollars, however.

Sweat beaded down my face. I hoped the bell didn't work. I hoped he wasn't home. Glancing over at the driveway though, there was a black sports car, window half cracked. He wasn't so dumb to leave it like that, so I knew that he was home.

Footsteps were approaching. I felt the strangest inclination to dive into the bushes, but I managed to win out over my basest desires.

The door opened, a shiver rolling down my spine.

He was there. Stepping forward, clad in basketball shorts and a football jersey.

God, he had barely changed at all. His face was a little more defined, and puberty spit up one more inch. He was a lot more muscular than he was before, but professional levels of training will do that. My glance toward him broke. He was even hotter than he was when he was eighteen.