my head. Why couldn’t I have done that when Jake asked? Ugh. Reilly eats quickly, expecting the cameraman at any minute. Before she got Jake, she talked his insurance adjustor into an on camera interview.
“What are you going to ask him?”
She finishes her bite. “Nothing too specific. When I get back to the station, I’ll call the police to see if they can provide any statistics. It’d be helpful to know if this is an isolated incident in our viewing area. I’m just going to ask this insurance guy if he’s seen this before and if there are any helpful tips our viewers should be aware of if something like this happens to them.”
Reilly was a communications major in college. Before that, she was the editor of our high school paper and she did our morning announcements.
This isn’t the first time I’ve witnessed her in the midst of an idea. Reilly is a force of nature when it comes to this stuff. The first time one of her segments aired, I cried like a baby. She didn’t; she watched herself with a critical eye and used it, and every piece she’s done since, to learn from so the next one she did would be even better.
Once she’s done eating, she takes her trash and goes back into the house to freshen up.
Not sure what to do, and not wanting to be underfoot, I stay where I am. My back is to the door and when it opens again, I assume it’s Reilly coming to hang out with me until she needs to film her story.
So, it’s a surprise when Jake sits back down next to me.
“The camera guy is here and there’s no way I’m letting Reilly interview me.”
Pressing my lips together to keep from laughing, I turn to look at him. He’s so handsome, especially with a mischievous glint in his eye since he managed to dodge airtime.
Just looking at him makes my stomach feel funny, or, it could be the French fries I shouldn’t have eaten.
“Has she interviewed you recently?” He asks, pulling me from my thoughts and making me realize I’ve been staring at him like an idiot.
Okay, he asked a simple question. Try to answer it without making a fool of yourself girl.
“It’s been a long time.”
When Reilly first started out, she would practice her interview techniques on me, even recording some of them. It was all in the name of improving her craft.
“She’s emailed me a few of them over the years,” he laughs.
Turning back out to face the yard, blood drains from my face as I wonder which ones she sent.
I never would . . .
I can’t believe she . . .
Which ones?
Most of them were silly, but there were a couple that I would die of embarrassment over knowing he saw.
Good gracious! I am going to murder my best friend. This sucks because I’ll go to jail and I’ve watched Orange is the New Black and I don’t think I’m made out for prison life.
“You okay?”
I blink and suck in a calming breath. “Huh?”
I know, eloquent.
“You went all quiet there. Everything okay?”
Feigning a smile, I nod. “I didn’t know she sent them to anyone.”
His face softens. “They were really funny. There was one where Reilly had you move from chair to chair to pretend like you were three different people she needed to interview on a panel. The looks you gave her. I laughed so hard.”
Okay, that one wasn’t that bad.
He surprises me by putting his hand on my knee, my bare knee.
All of my awareness seems to focus on that one part of my body. The rest of me is goo, insubstantial and unimportant. His index, middle, ring, and pinkie fingers cover my kneecap and then some. His thumb rests above them. The unlucky patch of skin between his thumb and index finger pulses in need. The skin he does touch is frozen; dreading the moment he pulls away.
“Are you upset I saw them?”
Yes, I am. Or, maybe it’s more that I’m upset that I don’t know which ones he saw. I shouldn’t be freaking out. The one he mentioned wasn’t that bad. All I need to do is look at him and tell him it’s no big deal, I’m
“What are you going to ask him?”
She finishes her bite. “Nothing too specific. When I get back to the station, I’ll call the police to see if they can provide any statistics. It’d be helpful to know if this is an isolated incident in our viewing area. I’m just going to ask this insurance guy if he’s seen this before and if there are any helpful tips our viewers should be aware of if something like this happens to them.”
Reilly was a communications major in college. Before that, she was the editor of our high school paper and she did our morning announcements.
This isn’t the first time I’ve witnessed her in the midst of an idea. Reilly is a force of nature when it comes to this stuff. The first time one of her segments aired, I cried like a baby. She didn’t; she watched herself with a critical eye and used it, and every piece she’s done since, to learn from so the next one she did would be even better.
Once she’s done eating, she takes her trash and goes back into the house to freshen up.
Not sure what to do, and not wanting to be underfoot, I stay where I am. My back is to the door and when it opens again, I assume it’s Reilly coming to hang out with me until she needs to film her story.
So, it’s a surprise when Jake sits back down next to me.
“The camera guy is here and there’s no way I’m letting Reilly interview me.”
Pressing my lips together to keep from laughing, I turn to look at him. He’s so handsome, especially with a mischievous glint in his eye since he managed to dodge airtime.
Just looking at him makes my stomach feel funny, or, it could be the French fries I shouldn’t have eaten.
“Has she interviewed you recently?” He asks, pulling me from my thoughts and making me realize I’ve been staring at him like an idiot.
Okay, he asked a simple question. Try to answer it without making a fool of yourself girl.
“It’s been a long time.”
When Reilly first started out, she would practice her interview techniques on me, even recording some of them. It was all in the name of improving her craft.
“She’s emailed me a few of them over the years,” he laughs.
Turning back out to face the yard, blood drains from my face as I wonder which ones she sent.
I never would . . .
I can’t believe she . . .
Which ones?
Most of them were silly, but there were a couple that I would die of embarrassment over knowing he saw.
Good gracious! I am going to murder my best friend. This sucks because I’ll go to jail and I’ve watched Orange is the New Black and I don’t think I’m made out for prison life.
“You okay?”
I blink and suck in a calming breath. “Huh?”
I know, eloquent.
“You went all quiet there. Everything okay?”
Feigning a smile, I nod. “I didn’t know she sent them to anyone.”
His face softens. “They were really funny. There was one where Reilly had you move from chair to chair to pretend like you were three different people she needed to interview on a panel. The looks you gave her. I laughed so hard.”
Okay, that one wasn’t that bad.
He surprises me by putting his hand on my knee, my bare knee.
All of my awareness seems to focus on that one part of my body. The rest of me is goo, insubstantial and unimportant. His index, middle, ring, and pinkie fingers cover my kneecap and then some. His thumb rests above them. The unlucky patch of skin between his thumb and index finger pulses in need. The skin he does touch is frozen; dreading the moment he pulls away.
“Are you upset I saw them?”
Yes, I am. Or, maybe it’s more that I’m upset that I don’t know which ones he saw. I shouldn’t be freaking out. The one he mentioned wasn’t that bad. All I need to do is look at him and tell him it’s no big deal, I’m
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