It only took a few minutes for me to realize I’m an outsider at The Sentinel. Everyone clearly feels my position should have been filled from within. I can’t blame them for looking at me like I’m the guy who stole the job from them—because I am. Their cold stares and one-word responses are merited. Thank God I have my own office so I can hide from the upturned noses and steely glares.

A knock on my office door at five thirty nearly makes me jump. It’s been hours since I’ve experienced any human interaction whatsoever. “Come in,” I call out, my voice raspy from not using it. I rub my throat as the door opens.

“Dixon,” Paul Weston says. “Just coming to see how your first day is going.”

“Fine, fine.”

He pauses and then closes the door behind him. “One ‘fine’ too many.” He pulls out the chair on the other side of my desk and sits, crossing his hands in his lap. “Talk to me.”

“No, really, everything is going—”

“Fine. So you keep saying. I’m a newsman, though. I’ve been trained to smell a rat.” He leans forward and sniffs the air. “Definite rat.”

I let out a deep breath before beginning. “I wasn’t aware I’d be walking into an unwelcoming environment.”

“‘An unwelcoming environment’?” He scoffs. “Dixon, do I look like the president to you? Tell it like it is. Some of these people suck. They wanted the job but lost it to you, so they’re acting like assholes.”

I laugh at his candidness. “Quite frankly, yes.” I breathe easier, knowing he understands.

“So what do you intend to do about it?”

I haven’t thought that far ahead. I’ve pretty much been counting the minutes until six o’clock when I can leave for the day. I clear my throat as if I’m going to respond, but I have nothing to respond with.

Paul leans back in his chair and adjusts his navy blue tie. “I got an interesting call today.”

“Oh yeah?” I ask, immediately realizing how stupid it sounds.

“From Terrance.”

“Oh, how’s Mr. Monohan doing?”

“I dare say his day was worse than yours.” He crosses one foot over the opposite knee.

I lean forward. “How so?”

“Marjorie Strauss fired him.”

Because of me. “She gave Oliver his job, didn’t she?”

He nods. “That’s not all, though.”

Why do I feel like it’s going to get worse? Is Monohan coming here? Am I losing my job already?

“Terry’s firing caused quite a stir. Several others walked out.”

Aria! It has to be. She’d never stay to work for Oliver.

“Your friend Aria apparently led the walkout.” He cocks his head at me. “You look green, Dixon. I guess you’re surprised by this news.”

“No. Not surprised in the least. I mean, that she left. She was loyal to Mr. Monohan and hated Oliver.”

“I’ve called Marjorie Strauss and let her know I refused to hire Oliver because he doesn’t have what it takes. I told her she fired the wrong man.”

Wow! Bold move. “I can’t imagine she took that well.”

“Couldn’t tell you. I hung up on her.”

I laugh, but it quickly fades because the question still remains... “Should I expect to see Mr. Monohan here tomorrow, or will I not be here tomorrow to see him?”

“You think I’d boot you just like that?” He nods. “I guess given my history with Terry, that’s understandable. But the answer is no. He’s actually planning to start his own paper.”

“That’s great.” For him and me. And maybe he’ll hire Aria. I need to talk to her, make sure she’s okay. If she’ll even answer.

“So that means you need to figure out a way to show this office I hired the right man for the job. I suggest doing it sooner rather than later.”

No pressure there. “Will do, sir.”

“Either call me Paul or Weston, but do not call me sir.”

“Got it.”

“Good. Now go home. You’ve logged enough hours for your first day, and I believe you have your homework cut out for you.” He gets up, shakes my hand, and says, “Welcome aboard.”

“Thanks, Mr.—Paul.” I shake my head, but Paul laughs.

“See you tomorrow.” He walks out of my office, and I gather my things. I have a lot to do tonight and none of it will be easy, so I’m not sure which to tackle first. Trying to contact Aria or figuring out how to win over an office full of people who hate me.

I lock up my office, which gets me looks from my new coworkers. Now they probably think I’m worried they’ll steal my stapler or something. I nod at everyone I pass on my way to the elevator. I’ll get through this somehow. A few drinks might be necessary first, though. I pull up a search on my phone for bars in the area, and I’m busy looking at the results on the screen, so I don’t notice Aria standing at my truck until I’m two feet away from her.

“Aria?” I blink as if I’m imagining her.

She gives me a weak smile. “Hi.”

God, it’s amazing to hear her voice again. “What are you doing here? I mean, I’m glad you’re here. I’m just surprised.”

“I got fired today. Well, I quit, but then Marjorie fired me. Either way, I’m out of a job.” She shrugs, but she’s clutching onto her own arm like she wants to shield herself from the world.

Even though things between us are screwed up right now, I step toward her and wrap my arms around her. She leans her head on my chest and cries. “It’s going to be okay.” I stroke the back of her head. “Weston told me Monohan is starting his own paper. I’m sure he’ll hire you. You stood up for him, and from what I hear, you got others to leave, too.” I’m guessing David and Emily.

She shakes her head. “I don’t care about the job, Nate.” She looks into my eyes, but that only makes her cry harder. “Can we go somewhere more private and talk?”

“Of course.”

She steps out of my arms and wipes her eyes before walking around my truck to the passenger door. I don’t open it for her because I know that would set off the waterworks again. When Aria’s upset, she gets very independent.

I get in the truck and start it up, not prodding her to continue with her story. I let her sit in silence until she’s ready to talk. I drive the ten minutes to my apartment and park out front.

“Wow,” she says, looking out the windshield at the Victorian gray house with black shutters. “You rent half of this place?”

“Yeah. My stuff looks lost inside. It’s about three times the size of my place in Priority.” I open the door and get out, and Aria does the same.

She stares in awe as she follows me up the front porch to the door on the right. “This must cost a fortune.”

“You’d be surprised. Pennsylvania is a lot cheaper than New Jersey. Except for gas. I can’t figure that one out.” I open the door and step aside, letting her go first.

She walks in, and I reach for the light switch. The entryway is small, with the staircase to the far left. “Can I get a tour?”

“Of course.” I know she’s trying to delay the conversation neither one of us wants to have, and I’m okay with that. Having her here is enough for now. “How about upstairs first and we’ll work our way down?”

She nods. This time I lead the way, playing tour guide. “There are two bedrooms, but I’m using the second as a home office right now. That’s this first door here.” I push it open to reveal the hardwood floor, gray walls, and my desk with my laptop on it.

“Furnished like a man’s apartment.” She laughs.

“I told you I don’t have enough furniture to fill this place. I was thinking of getting a filing cabinet or something, but who uses one of those anymore? Everything is done electronically.”

She turns to me, her forehead creased. “A filing cabinet? That’s your idea of furnishing the room?”

“I’m a guy. What do you expect?” I shrug and turn toward the next door.

“This is the bathroom. There’s another door on the other side that opens into my bedroom.” I step inside and grimace at the hand towel in a ball on the counter and the lone roll of toilet paper sitting on the back of the tank. My towel from my shower this morning is draped over the neo-round walk-in shower in the corner.

“My God, you really needed my help moving in.”

I shove my hands in my pockets. “Yeah, well, I wanted your help. Did you get my messages?”

She looks down at the floor. “Pretty tile.”

“Aria.” I step toward her, but she goes for the door on the opposite side of the room.

“Your bedroom is through here?”

“Yeah,” I say, not masking my disappointment. “Go right ahead.”

She opens the door without hesitation. “A walk-through closet.”

“Yeah.” I wish I’d actually hung up my clothes now instead of leaving them in the laundry basket in the middle of the closet floor.

“I guess you haven’t finished unpacking yet.”

“I was a little preoccupied yesterday.” Mostly drinking and trying not to focus on my best friend refusing to talk to me or see me.

She keeps going to my bedroom. She passes my bed and heads for the dresser, where a picture of us stands. Picking it up, she smiles. “Doesn’t graduation feel like a lifetime ago?”

“Sometimes.” I stand directly behind her and look over her shoulder at our reflection in the mirror. “Other times, I feel so grown-up, like I should be married and have a family and be settled into my life.”

“At twenty-six?” She raises her eyes to meet mine in our reflection.

“When you know what you want, it’s not that hard to picture.” I’ve known I want her for years. As for the rest of it, I always figured it was only a matter of time. Now? I’m not sure of anything.

She places the picture back on the dresser and leans back against it. “Shall we go downstairs?”

“Sure.” I let her lead the way, my eyes roaming the back of her sundress. Aria and sundresses go together like pancakes and syrup. Her wedge sandals are just high enough to make her calf muscles pop. It reminds me of when we’d go running together in college and then I’d have to massage her sore calf muscles. She’d close her eyes and moan, and I’d pretend I was touching more than her leg.

“Nate?” she says, breaking me out of my daydream.

“Yeah.” I realize we’re at the bottom of the stairs, but I’ve stopped moving completely.

“I said I don’t recognize the couch. Is it new?”

I step into the living room. “Oh, yeah. I needed a new one. Ordered it online and had it delivered. Paid extra for Sunday delivery.”

She sits down, letting her hands roam over the gray cushions. “You’re in a gray phase.”

Very gray. It fits my mood lately. “TV’s new, too,” I say, changing the subject. “The movers dropped my old one. I upgraded to a smart TV finally since I don’t have yours to watch anymore.”

She looks away at the comment. “It’s nice.”

“And then through here is the kitchen and another bathroom.”

“Two bathrooms. Nice.”

I’m tired of the small talk now, so when she tries to walk past me to see the kitchen, I grab her hand. “Aria.”

She stops and her eyes lower to our conjoined hands.

“Tell me what happened. Please.”

She raises her gaze to meet mine, and her eyes are glassy. “I couldn’t handle you leaving.” She swallows so hard I hear it. “We’ve been a huge part of each other’s lives for twelve years. Going to the same college. Working at the same paper. I didn’t know how to say good-bye to all that. So I didn’t.” She looks away again. “I’m sorry for dodging your calls and for not answering my door. I couldn’t bring myself to watch you leave me.”

“Hey, I’m not leaving you. Nothing has to change if you don’t want it to.” This is more than not wanting to say good-bye. She freaked out because we had sex. I know that’s what it is. “We’re Aria and Nate, like we’ve always been.”

“Is that what you want?”

I want her. All of her. But if I say that, she’ll walk out on me, push me away again. “Yes. That’s what I want.”

“Okay.” She inhales a shaky breath. “Can we order a pizza or something and you can tell me about your new job?”

“Sure. I have some takeout menus in the kitchen. I grabbed a bunch when I drove around town yesterday. I’ll go get them. Make yourself comfortable on the couch.” I head to the kitchen, wondering how I’m going to be able to keep my thoughts in the friend zone now that I know what Aria tastes like.