Ruined (4 page)

"It looks a little overwhelming right now," I say, biting my lower lip.

"It's not that bad. I didn't know how to use this equipment when I started either, but they teach you all that in class. I'm a pretty good teacher too," he says as he walks towards me and gets a few inches from my face. I feel uncomfortable and aroused at the same time. I can literally feel his warm breath across my face and smell the coffee we just drank. What is he trying to do? I almost want to close my eyes and go with it just to see if he's about to kiss me when suddenly he says "excuse me." That's when I realize I'm standing in the only doorway and he's trying to get us back out into the hall. "The rest of the station is down the hall." My face turns red, I clear my throat and I step aside so that he can lead us out. This has got to my new most embarrassing moment in life.

We walk down the brightly lit hallway and into another room. This room is long and larger than the other two rooms put together. It has bunches of TV screens and other kinds of equipment that I don't know how to use. "This is the control room. You probably won't be working here that much because we have technical guys that do this, but you might have to bring some tapes over here occasionally."

"Tapes? Isn't this the 21st century?"

"Believe it or not, they like for us to use some of the old school methods just so we're prepared for any place that we might get a job after college. But, you will also learn the latest information and technology as it relates to journalism." He's very matter-of-fact about all of it, almost like a professor himself. I can tell that he's extremely into what he does, and he doesn't want anything or anyone interfere in his work.

We walk around some of the hallways, and he points out the radio station and some of the professors' offices. There really isn't much to the television station, and it's nothing like I imagined it would be. He explains that there are classrooms set up like anchor desks where we will learn the ins and outs of journalism, but they don't really have those in the TV station. Instead, we have to piggyback off of those classrooms when we want to shoot our news program. I can see that the college is way back in time when it comes to this television station, and I wonder why.

"Do they ever put any money into this television station?" I ask him as we make our way back to the small office.

"They haven't put money into it in years because it's never been run properly. That's why I'm so anxious to get our name out there and show them that this television station is worth saving."

"You think they might shut it down?" I ask. A look of sadness comes across his gorgeous face, and I really don't like seeing that. He's much more fun to look at when he's happy.

"That's the word on the street. I figure I have this next school year to prove to them that this television station can break some hard-hitting stories, or else it's going to be closed for future students."

"That would be sad," I say, thinking about all of the future students who would miss out on the opportunity of working at a real TV station in college.

"Well, that's about it," he says holding his hands up. "My little slice of heaven." His smile is smoldering and sexy, but in a straight laced kind of way. I sort of want to rip the little buttons off the top of his polo shirt and see what's under there, but I refrain. Maybe all the hot weather is getting to me.

"Thanks for showing it to me. I'll fill out this paperwork tonight and bring it to class tomorrow." He nods, and I realize our "date" has now come to an end. I start heading for the door to make my way back down the beach to my house.

"Where are you going?"

"To walk home," I say as if its the most normal thing in the world.

"Willow, it's hot out there." This guy is already exasperated with me. Wait til he gets to know me better.

"The ocean has a nice breeze," I say with a smile. "See you tomorrow."

I walk down the long hallway wondering the whole time if he's looking at my butt. I even tighten it up a bit and sway it side to side like runway models do, but when I turn around he's not even poking his head out the door.

When I get back home, the house is quiet. My mother is usually at the beach getting her tan, or at some kind of volunteer meeting. I admire her for her willingness to volunteer her time and Bruce's money, but the tanning is starting to make her look like a lizard. I don't like to tan myself, so I've never understood the attraction of lying on the beach under the hot sun all day long... which explains my pasty white skin, I suppose. Thankfully, my strawberry blond naturally curly hair takes attention away from my paleness.

I go upstairs to my room, hoping for some peace and quiet to fill out my forms. I hear something in the room across from mine, and it's Carmelita making the bed in the guest room.

"Hi, Carmelita," I say as I stand in the doorway.

"Oh, hello, Miss Blake," she says with a quick bow. I don't know why she bows at me. She's not Asian and I'm not royalty.

"What're you doing?"

"Getting Mr. Kellan Avery's room ready," she says with a smile as she tugs at the bed sheet. I walk over to give her a hand.

"Have you ever met Kellan?" I ask her, knowing that she's worked for Bruce for many years.

"Oh, yes. Kellan was just a boy when I started to work for Mr. Avery."

"What's he like?" I ask, very curious about my new step brother. I mean, if he's some kind of nut job I feel like I should know that in advance.

"He is a beautiful soul," she says softly. "But he took a wrong path, and I don't know who he is now. I think he's angry," she says shaking her head in sadness. "Very angry."

"Why would you say that?" I ask as I finally get the bed sheet to cooperate and curl around the corner of the mattress.

"I overhear Mr. Avery talking about it. Please don't tell him I told you, but I worry that Kellan will bring some hatred with him to this house. And Mr. Bruce is also very angry, although he hides it well right now. Those two might be a bad combination."

I can tell she's worried about the situation, and it's making me a little uneasy too. I don't need anger or drama around me. I can't deal with it, and it only leads to danger and heartache. I need things to be a certain way in my world or else all hell breaks loose inside of my own heart and soul. I have to maintain the status quo, and if this Kellan Avery thinks he's going to come here and mess up my cocoon of a life, he's sadly mistaken.

I finish helping Carmelita and then go into my room. I fire up my laptop and decide to do a little digging into who this Kellan guy is. What I find is basically what Bruce and Mom told me. He killed a woman and her two small children because he got drunk and drove.  For a moment, I feel guilt and nausea in the pit of my gut. I know all too well what it feels like to have such a heavy responsibility in the ending of someone else's life. I shake my head, trying to remove the memories and accompanying feelings before heading out onto the deck to breathe in the calming ocean air.

In and out. In and out. Just the like the waves, I breathe in and out. It's the only way to survive in this world. Without the in and out, there is no life. You have to breathe in and out to live. Heck, in and out is even the way babies are made. That thought makes me laugh as I slink down into a chair on my deck and continue Googling on my phone.

I find an article about Kellan's best friend, Jake Cochran. He's a paraplegic now. I wonder if Kellan still talks to him. I wonder if Jake is angry at him. Would I be? I don't know the whole situation, but I have to believe Jake knew Kellan was drunk when he got into the car with him, so doesn't that make him an accomplice to his own paraplegic situation?

I hear voices outside on the patio below, and I can tell it's my mother and Bruce having an animated conversation. Apparently, they don't know I'm home and on the deck above them.

"He's going to be angry, Pam. I'm just warning you. He's mad at me, and I don't know what prison has done to him."

"Well, it can't have done anything good," she says. "Why didn't you just go, Bruce? Why abandon the boy like that?" She sounds a little irritated, and I'm surprised she's pushing him like she is. Like it or not, my mother married Bruce mostly for his money and prominence in town, so pushing him isn't the best idea for her long term marriage goals. Still, he lets her get by with just about anything.

"I don't know. Maybe I'm a horrible father, Pam. I just couldn't bring myself to go there. It's prison. You have no idea what it's like to have a child who has murdered someone, so you can't judge me." He's more upset than I've ever seen him, and how ironic his last statement was.

"But it sounds like he needed you. You're all he has, Bruce. It's going to take some serious work to repair your relationship with him."

"Honestly, I don't know if we'll ever repair it. He killed those babies and their mother, and I have a hard time forgiving that, Pam. I really thought when he was released, I would be over it, but I'm not. I feel as angry about it today as I did way back then."

"Bruce, he's your son. He made a terrible, awful, unchangeable mistake, but he's still your son." I know why she's pressing him, but he has no idea just how much she understands his situation.

A bee flies up to land on my small rose bush, and of course I jump like a complete moron. I make a noise, and Mom and Bruce look straight up at me.

"Willow?" Mom says with her hand on her chest.

"Oh, hi, guys. I just got home from having coffee with a new friend. Sorry I scared you." They both nod and wave as I back up into the house. Disaster averted.

***

The next morning, I walk into class and Reed is sitting there waiting. He smiles and waves, and my heart speeds up a bit. Something about this guy just does it for me, but I have to be careful. Getting too close to anyone is not a good idea for me. Happiness is for other people, and I gave up that illusion a long time ago.

Dating is fine as long as it's wham, bam, thank you, ma’am and no strings. No feelings. No irritating emotions to cloud the fun. But this guy seems like he's too deep for wham bam, so I'd better get my hormones in check and stop obsessing over his hotness.

"Good morning," I say as I drop my backpack and hand him the papers.

"Good morning. Thanks," he says as he looks them over briefly and then puts them into his own backpack. "So you made it home on foot okay?"

"Yes, Reed. I was fine. I like to walk."

"Well, it looks like it does your body good," he says with a wink before Dr. Shanks walks in. Yep, there goes my libido. I feel it waving at me from between my legs.

"Good morning, class. Let's take out our books and turn to page sixteen..." Dr. Shanks has a voice that would make fingernails on a chalkboard sound like sweet, beautiful music. I expect him to say "Bueller? Bueller?" at any moment now. I hate math.

As I'm trying to listen, Reed passes me a note. What are we? In third grade?

"You're hired." That's all the note says.

I  look over and smile with my eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

"I am?" I write.

"Yes."

"But don't you need to read my paperwork?"

"Neh. I've seen all I need to see." He winks again, and I swear my panties are going to catch fire right in the middle of this class.

The rest of class passes without incident, and I stand to leave at the end but Reed grabs my arm.

"Busy tonight?" he asks, and that's when I notice the cute little dimples in his cheeks.

"Um..." I say, because I am quite the wordsmith.

"I was thinking I could start teaching you some of the editing equipment at the station..." he says, trying to explain how this isn't the date of my dreams but a work related event. Got it. "My sports guy, Dexter Wayne, had to leave town unexpectedly because his grandmother passed away last night. I've got to edit his spot for next week."