I turn the show back on, and I squeeze my new favorite thing, my dino. The episode was one of my favorites, solely because of the unexpected plot developments. In the next scene, there's a girl dead, sprawled out on a mattress, and Kent furrows his eyebrows. "Are you sure you want to watch this?" He asks. "It seems depressing." "I want to watch it," I insist, shaking my head. "This is a really interesting episode, trust me." The plot develops, and even I feel riveted by the twist at the end. This woman hired a hitman to kill the woman her husband was cheating on her with. The plot twist is she's in a wheelchair and pretending to be sick and disabled so her husband will stay with her anyway. "So it was her?" He asks, and I nod with a small smile. "Shit, that's insane." "Wait, this is the craziest part," I whisper. At this point, the detectives have figured out it was his wife in the wheelchair who did it and that she's been making herself sick, but she's been determined not compet
I press my lips together and close my door. I change into jeans instead of leggings and put on some concealer to hide my red spots from crying. I try to look brave because I'm going home for Mom's enchiladas. The world is not small; it's huge and full of possibilities. I open the door a few minutes later and see everyone in the living room, waiting for me to show up. We all get into Kent's car and head home. I'm excited to be back. I sit behind Kent in the backseat and smile while thinking about the two of us this afternoon. The strange thing is, when I think about Kent, I stop thinking about my mess with Dane. Maybe I never had feelings for Dane, perhaps I just kept pushing Kent aside to try and enjoy another relationship. Maybe I thought things could be the same with Dane. Kent parks in my driveway, and I smile, leading everyone to my front door. It's not a big house, but Mom is used to accommodating a large family for dinner. "Hello?" I call as I kick off my shoes. Mom comes ou
I feel terrible today. Breakups are always tough for me. I didn't feel very connected to Dane emotionally, but it didn't seem to matter. I'm a sensitive person, and feeling deceived and used isn't something that just goes away. The only, and I really emphasize, the only positive thing this week is that Thanksgiving break is approaching. This weekend is a holiday, which means four blissful days without school. I can also go back home and be with my parents. Mom understood my emotions on Saturday, to the point that she sent the remaining enchiladas home with me and my roommates. They provided comfort, and it was the only thing I had an appetite for yesterday before I had to drag myself to work. That's another thing, I only have three days of work this week. It's incredibly exciting, less exposure to chlorine on my hair and clothes. I always worried that I smelled of it. Today, I had my one afternoon class. It's Monday, a relatively easy day for me. Usually, I'd use it for homework,
He drove for a while, looking like he had the literal weight of the world on his shoulders. Eventually, we reached a downtown parking garage. He went inside and drove all the way to the top, letting us sit on the top level outside. He turned off the car and cleared his throat, looking anxious. "What was all that?" I asked. "Why on earth does she think I'm your girlfriend?" "I'll get to that, just... this story starts earlier than that," he explained quietly, and I sighed, leaning back in the seat. "My parents are in New York society. We were all children brought up for the sake of pictures, images... parties. My parents always put me on a date to important events growing up. From like... sixteen and on, I always had to take a girl to anything important." "Okay, and how on earth does that concern me?" I asked, furrowing my eyebrows, and he cleared his throat. "When I moved away, I did whatever I could to avoid ever having to do that again. I hated it, it made me really miserable. Mo
I didn't know what to say; my lips were open, but no sound came out. This was insane. New York was so expensive, but Kent would know how it worked. His family was loaded, and I'd get to do all the stuff I'd always dreamed about there. "Anything you want, Juls, I'll do it. I'll be your personal tour guide," he repeated, and I sighed. "My family..." "You just saw your parents. Tell your mom the truth that you're going with me, but promise her you'll be home for dinner on Sunday," he begged, and I chewed my bottom lip. "Do we have to... you know, act like we're together?" "Only in front of my parents," he whispered. "Please, Juls, anything you want." Anything I want? Kent was going to do anything I asked of him. That never happened; he was incapable of it. This was too amazing to try and pass up. "Okay!" I mumbled, and a smile broke across his lips. "Okay? You'll do it?" he asked, and I nodded stiffly. "But these are my conditions," I said, and he nodded. "Number one, wherever we
"What's your last name?" I ask, suddenly realizing that I've never inquired before. He's never let it slip. "Chavez," he responds quietly. "Is that news to you?" "No, you've never mentioned it or said it. You don't share much about yourself," I say, shrugging. "I just thought it would be nice to know before I visit your family." After that, he falls silent for a while. It's almost as if he doesn't know how to respond. "Look, I don't want you to feel like you're in the dark. If you ask, I'll tell you anything you want to know. I've already shared more with you than with most people I talk to," he says quietly. Then they begin calling first-class passengers and members to board. He clears his throat, stands up, and nods for me to do the same. "That's us," he says, and I follow him to the desk, where Kent checks our tickets and we show our IDs. After retrieving our documents, as I step into the tunnel leading to the plane, he places his hand on my shoulder. As he does so, my throat
The flight was too short; all I did was listen to music. Halfway through, Kent got up to use the bathroom after I said it was okay. He didn't believe the "no seatbelt" sign. When he returned, the plane was almost landing, so he had to prepare mentally again. He was restless because he had a lot of coffee before the flight. Despite my upset stomach, Gravol worked. As we started descending, he held my hand, looking tense. Once we landed, he gasped and gulped as we approached the gate. "You did it," I whispered, placing my hand on his. "We're here." "Thank goodness," he said, taking a breath. I let go to get my bag. He grabbed his bag, and we disembarked quickly since we were near the front. Although I felt queasy, Gravol prevented me from vomiting more than making me feel better. We collected our bags, and Kent showed me the way out. He guided me to the driver holding a sign that read "Chavez." "Good morning, Mr.," the driver said. "How was the flight?" "Terrible, as always," Ke
"What a day," I exclaim. I got to do everything I ever wanted in New York. Kent took me to the Metropolitan Museum of Art, the 9/11 Memorial, and Times Square. It was all amazing; I loved it. Now, it's almost dinner time, and Kent insists he has a surprise for me after our dinner reservation. So, after our day out, he takes me back to the hotel in a taxi. "Where are we going?" I inquire as he unlocks the door. "For dinner? We'll walk to an Italian restaurant a few blocks away," he informs me as we enter. I sigh. "No, I mean after dinner," I persist, and he laughs. "It's a secret. I've already told you about ten times," he says, and I sigh and smile. "It's surreal being in New York," I murmur as I open the curtains by the desk and look out at the city. "It's so cool." "You think so?" "Yes, it's fascinating and thrilling. Everything here is so exciting," I say with a smile. "I can't fathom why you left." "Leaving wasn't difficult," he mumbles. "I was excited to start a new proj