It has been suggested to me to that I write an author's note explaining what happened with this story. I took it down briefly because I made some last minute edits and uploaded the wrong version, so it was easier to just take it down than individually change out the chapters. Sorry for the confusion, but it's back!
I'm so appreciative of everyone that reads and reviews. It makes the writing process worth it to hear your comments, critiques, and reactions.
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I call Alice on my drive home from work and she answers on the first ring.
"Hey, how did it go? How was Jasper?"
"Everything went pretty well. He showed me around the editing department and introduced me to everybody. I mostly just made coffee, but I like the people there so far."
"He wasn't acting weird or anything, was he?"
"No, not at all. He did pull me into his office to talk first, but he said he thought four years wasn't a bad gap and that no one would care once you're in college."
"Oh, Jazzy," she sighs. "I knew everything would be ok. I love him so much."
"You should have seen the look on his face when he was talking about you. He's so into you."
"Did he say anything else?"
"Oh," I laugh, remembering, "yeah, he did. He asked if we could not appear too familiar at work since he's my supervisor. But we were joking around at the end of the day and I could see us being good friends."
"Really?" she asks, sounding excited at the prospect. "I was worried it would be weird because I told him about us before you even met."
"Yeah, I figured," I say sourly. "A little warning would have been nice, you know."
"Sorry!" I can practically hear her cringing over the phone.
"Does he know all of it?"
"Yeah, but he mostly seemed turned on by it, honestly. We haven't really talked about it since I realized you guys work at the same place."
Jesus. "Ugh, that is so embarrassing."
"You're embarrassed by me?"
"Oh, stop," I scoff. "You know it's not about you. He's my boss. I mean, I want to be friends with him and joke around and stuff, but it's different to joke about that than for him to explicitly know I've had sex with his girlfriend."
"He really is fine with it," she assures me quickly. "I promise. He's really laidback about everything."
Managing to contain my gut reaction, we talk at more length about my work day and about my mini-crush on Victoria, but soon enough I arrive home and hang up.
My mom has prepared dinner for me when I arrive, eager to talk about my first day. She's bursting with pride, but she usually is where I'm concerned. My mom is a little scattered and prone to depression, but she has always been supportive of me and down to earth.
"Oh my gosh, tell me everything! How was it, baby?" She sounds so young, unusually chipper today.
"Oh, you know, lots of coffee and filing, but everyone is super nice," I repeat pretty much exactly what I told Alice, minus the dirty details. "My supervisor said I could sit in on some editing meetings and learn more about the process if I wanted."
"That's fantastic! I mean, really, this seems like such a good opportunity for you. And you look so professional! I'm just glad you found something you like. You've been moping around the house for the past few weeks."
Moping sounds a bit harsh – especially coming from her – but if only she knew the cause of that sour mood. "I've just been adjusting to the workload for school. I told you I dropped one of my AP classes, right?"
"No, you didn't," she says, concerned. "Which one?"
"English. I figure I will be fine to take the AP exam on my own and this has reduced a lot of my homework." True, I dropped it to limit my contact with Edward, but it's also true that I cut back on about an hour of homework every night.
"Oh, honey, are you sure that was a good idea?"
"Don't worry, Mom. I will be fine. I mean, if my job at school is to help other people write papers and my internship is editing, I feel like I'm covered, you know?"
She shakes her head. "You're right. I've never had to worry about you." I try not to look too guilty given my hobbies as of late. "Tell me about how tutoring is going instead. You haven't talked about that much."
"It's fine. We've had a few people trickle in, but hardly anybody for the most part."
"That happened last year, though, didn't it? It takes people a while to realize when they need help."
"Yeah, it did. I mostly just do homework or file stuff."
"Jeez, between your new internship and Mr. Berty, you're doing a lot of filing."
"Yeah," I laugh nervously, not correcting her about Berty because I feel like talking about Edward at all will give me away. "Well, thanks for dinner, Mom, but I have some homework to get done."
"Do you want to work down here? I was going to finish knitting a few rows on that blanket, so I won't distract you, but it would be nice just to sit together." Her tone is just desperate enough that I halt my kneejerk, polite refusal. She misses me. I suppose we hardly see each other now that school has started. She never wakes up before I leave for school and usually sleeps at weird times in the evening when her depression is worse. But maybe I've been unwittingly distant as well with all of my own drama, not wanting to upset her.
"Of course, Mama."
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On Monday, Edward and I wind up with four thermoses of coffee.
"I thought it was my turn to bring the coffee," I say the second I see the cup waiting by my seat.
"No, you brought some Friday morning."
"But you made me some coffee for tutoring hours on Friday."
He frowns. "Shit, I forgot about that."
"Ha!" I set down my extra thermos in front of him triumphantly.
He's amused by my childishness, offering me a smile. "What are we going to do with all the extra coffee?"
"Donate it to orphans?" I offer.
He snorts at me. "Guess I'm drinking two cups today."
We fall into our pattern of work with Edward softly playing music on shuffle from his computer, occasionally speaking, though not really maintaining a conversation. Partway through, I finish my coffee and reach for the second thermos; Edward wordlessly hands me two cups of creamer and one sugar packet from his drawer, just how I like it.
I am stunned for a moment even though it's such a small thing for him to remember my preferences. He sees my face and offers a sheepish smile. I wonder if I'm a little bit in love with him.
Suddenly, my phone buzzes loudly in my pocket and I realize I forgot to turn it off. "Sorry," I apologize, pulling it out.
It's Emmett calling. Again.
"Fuck you," I say to the sight of his name, hitting ignore and shutting off my phone.
Edward eyes me with open curiosity. "Wow."
I sigh. "Sorry, it's just that he calls me every single day and can't take the hint."
"I assume this is your ex-boyfriend?"
"Yes."
"He sounds like an asshole." I like how freely he swears in front of me – though I guess I just dropped the f-bomb.
I shrug. "Not entirely. We didn't date very long, but he was fun. Easy to get along with, very outgoing. But once it was time for college, he dumped me pretty abruptly. Then he decided he dumped me because he was scared of how much he loves me," I say without hiding my irritation. "I didn't take him back and he's been pretty persistent since then."
"Hmm, he'll catch on eventually."
"Maybe," I sigh. "I just don't want to deal with him anymore. I would have been fine if he had just told me he didn't want to be weighed down with a long distance relationship, but he didn't tell me he was in love with me until he wanted something from me." I don't know why I'm telling him all this, but I find it spilling out.
"Just keep in mind that boys your age take a while to mature and you are already more mature than a lot of people your age."
I don't like this wise mentor role on him – not directed towards me anyway. "No wonder I'm into older men," I mutter on purpose, knowing it will make him uncomfortable.
He stiffens, but lets the comment pass.
When I hear another ring tone go off, I think for half a second that I managed to turn on my ringer instead of turning off my phone, but Edward is the one grabbing at his pockets this time.
"Sorry," he mumbles. To my surprise, he answers, "Hey, is everything ok?" He pauses for a second, listening. I can hear a female voice on the other end, but can't make out the words. "Sorry, now's not a good time. I'm with a student and . . . no, I haven't forgotten . . . of course, I will. You know I . . . no, not now." He sounds exasperated and fond at the same time. "Ok, see you then . . . I'm looking forward to it, too . . . ok, bye."
Even though I have done so well in not making things too uncomfortable between us and controlling my impulses, I can't help myself. "Was that your girlfriend?"
He doesn't say anything, but his mouth tightens, avoiding my gaze and confirming my fears.
My brain runs wild with irrational anger and hurt, wondering how long he's been with her, how it started, how old she is, if he loves her, if he cheated on her with me, why he answered that call in front of me, if he wants me to know so I leave him alone. It feels like I've been punched in the chest. I know I don't have a right to be this upset because he's a grown man allowed to date a woman his own age, but I realize I have always hoped we would wait for each other. It sounds stupid to even think it because why the hell would I be worth waiting for – some teenage girl that's barely even an adult and still has years of college ahead of her – but still, my stupid heart got ahead of itself. I really felt like we had a connection. Hell, maybe we do, but that doesn't mean it's enough.
We don't speak for the rest of the period, a far cry from the easy conversation we've maintained for a few weeks. I promise myself that I will be perfectly professional and pulled together tomorrow, but right now, I am sulking, biting my lip, refusing to drink any more from the coffee thermos he brought for me, and avoiding his eyes. When the bell rings, we don't bother saying goodbye to each other.
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