Chapter Nineteen
Lindsay
My brain said say something witty, no smart, no just be cool while my body just stood there, useless to do anything but stare.
“…and this is Lindsay,” Sharon said, and a frown line settled between her eyebrows. Earlier there’d been a hint of disdain, but the look she gave me now spoke more to her concern that I might be having a stroke. “She’s the editor for the paper at Boston College.”
Andrea Green extended her hand and my body finally sprang into motion. I made a squeaky noise that caused a flush of heat to rush up to my face. Then I tried again, telling myself not to blow this. “Lindsay Rivera. It’s so nice to meet you. I’ve read your articles for years.”
Andrea put a hand to her chest, her red fingernails perfectly contrasting her white-and-black polka-dot blouse. “Oh, thank you. I was starting to worry my audience consisted solely of AARP members. Don’t get me wrong, I appreciate them, but most people your age have no idea what a newspaper is, much less who I am.”
“Well, I assure you I’m not like most people my age in a lot of aspects.” Sometimes I worried that meant I’d forever be alone, but it was true. Still, I felt like a bit of a traitor saying that, as the people I was starting to try friendships with this semester continued to surprise me. But here I was meeting one of my idols, and how could I possibly be expected to speak coherently?
I told her that I loved her article on how the news reported on female athletes versus their male counterparts, and then talked about the article Whitney wrote for the Heights. Originally I’d been upset it wasn’t more scathing over the unfair preferential treatment of athletes, but now I was glad it’d been fair and balanced. It was much better journalism.
Plus, now I had all this empathy for Ryder and the pressure he’d dealt with his whole life because of sports, which made me feel a little more for the rest of the athletes as much as I hated to admit it, even to just myself.
“So you’re looking for a job at a major newspaper once you graduate?” Andrea asked.
“That’s sort of the goal.”
Andrea raised an eyebrow. “Sort of?”
Mentally I kicked myself for not giving a stronger answer. “The truth is, while I love my job as editor at the paper and would be happy to find any kind of publishing job, I prefer fiction.”
I cringed, thinking she was going to now change her opinion and decide I was a silly girl who preferred to ignore the real world and live in a fictional one where guys were more chivalrous and happy endings were common.
Although the guy I came with seems like perfect hero material. I just worried that the real world and my past would mess it up.
To sound smarter, I almost added that I was most interested in tragedies and intense literary masterpieces with endings that made you rethink the world, but the truth was, I wanted happy endings. I wanted the books that left me with a grin on my face—that happy heartwarming sensation that made it easier to face the real world. I didn’t want to pretend otherwise, because knowing what you wanted was smarter than trying to be someone you weren’t—I’d learned that lesson the hard way.
“They say truth is stranger than fiction, and while I’ve certainly found that to be true on a lot of the stories I’ve covered, there’s nothing quite like getting lost in a good book,” Andrea said. “Fiction or nonfiction.”
We talked about some of our favorites, from classics to novels that had recently been at the top of the charts—thanks to my college courses, I was a bit out of the loop and I put several of her suggestions in the notes app in my phone.
Besides Ryder, Andrea was the first person here I didn’t find pretentious or boring. In fact, I could probably talk to her all night.
I did a quick check around the room for Ryder. He was over with a group of people, including his mother, and he appeared bored and disengaged. I hated seeing him like that. “Thank you so much for chatting with me. I should probably go find my date.”
“The mayor’s son?”
“We’re just friends,” I said quickly.
“He’s very handsome.”
No, he was more than handsome. He was smoking hot with the kind of body made for carrying out fantasies, and when he noticed me looking his way, his slow smile and heated gaze had an edge of I’m-thinking-dirty-thoughts-about-you to it. A cascade of tingles traveled down my spine.
“It was nice meeting you, Lindsay,” Andrea said, drawing my attention back to her, although a twitterpated lust haze still hung over me. “When did you say you were graduating?”
“This spring, and then I have a summer internship set up with a midsize newspaper in New York,” I said, ignoring the fact that I would only graduate if I passed my math class. With Ryder on my team, for the first time all semester, I felt confident that might happen. Admittedly, optimism was a nice change of pace for me, one I decided to embrace.
“I’ll tell you what. I know a couple of fiction editors, so I’ll poke around and see if I hear of any positions opening up, summer or fall.”
“That would be amazing. Thank you so much.”
“If you want my advice, follow your passion—life’s too short to do otherwise. But full disclosure, even after completing your internship, they might expect you to complete another one at their company, and most starting positions don’t offer a salary that you can actually live off without having another job on the side. It might be a few years before you feel like you’ve made it, but you’d find that with most newspaper jobs, too.”
I wasn’t sure how I could possibly afford trying to pay off student loans and living in New York on such little pay for even longer than I’d originally planned, but I also couldn’t stand the idea of letting what could be a huge opportunity pass. “I’m not afraid of hard work, and if that’s what it takes, I’m totally on board.” Even if I have to get side jobs and work at night and live in crappy apartments.
At the sound of someone approaching, I turned. Sharon was making her way back over to us, but got held up by an older gentleman in a suit.
Andrea handed me her card. “Email me, it’ll help me remember to ask around.”
“Thanks so much.” I clung to her card, curling it in my hot palm. “Again, it was so nice to meet you.” I spun around, my eyes on Ryder—I couldn’t wait to tell him about what had just happened.
Sharon stepped into my path and gave me a smile I thought was slightly warmer than the ones she’d given me earlier this evening—or maybe my rose-tinted glasses were on. “I was just coming to check on you,” she said. “It seems like you and Andrea hit it off, just like I suspected you would.”
“Thank you,” I said. “Seriously, she’s someone I follow and it was super cool to meet her.”
I took a step toward Ryder, but Sharon caught my wrist. “I could introduce you around more and see if you make any other connections.”
“I appreciate that, but I want to get back to Ryder.”
Sharon’s smile turned hard-edged again, shattering my rosy lenses. “Look, obviously you’re a bright girl, and I’m sure it took work to get to where you are at your little paper at the school. I admire that. But that doesn’t mean I approve of you being with my son. He’s got a bright future.”
“I know that,” I said, prickling.
“Yes, well, you can slip on a dress and put on a good act, but I’ve seen girls like you before. I dealt with them back when I was married to Ryder’s father. I see through the act. We both know what kind of girl you are.”
“I assure you, I’m not putting on an act. And you have no idea what kind of girl I am.” I tugged my arm, but Sharon only tightened her grip. She was careful to hold it between us, where it’d be blocked from passersby.
“I won’t let my son end up like his father. You’ve got other woman written all over you. You might amuse him now, but in the end, he won’t settle for you, and I think you know it.”
I jerked my arm free and took a step away from her, bumping into the person behind me. I muttered a quick apology, and spun around. I saw Ryder looking at us, his eyebrows drawn together, but my feet refused to move toward him. I wasn’t going to run and tattle. I wanted to pretend it was because I was above it, but deep down I worried Sharon was right.
No one had ever wanted to keep me around for long—my own mother had viewed me as a nuisance half the time—so why would it be different with Ryder?
He was the son of a former NHL player and a mayor. He was smart and driven and going places.
I was me, a messy work in progress who’d made enough mistakes to know just how flawed I was. Hockey was his world, and even though he clearly didn’t enjoy it, so was this. Suddenly I did feel like I was putting on an act just by being here.
Ryder would never settle for a girl like me, and falling harder for him would only leave me hurt and more jaded in the end.
And I was already jaded enough, thank you very much.