Page 10 of Changed Plan

“Maybe they should use you to train improv actors. You’d say no to anything you didn’t want to do, and they’d have to think quick to counter your objection.”

“Ah, an improv agitator. Okay, that might be fun.”

By the time we’ve finished our meal, and the bottle of wine, we definitely know more about each other. He still thinks we could’ve been friends in high school. Wrong. I would’ve never given him the time of day—not because there was anything wrong with him, but I always dated a certain type.

All the boys I went out with were broody and rebellious with obsessive tendencies. In other words, they made me the center of their discontented worlds. God, I can’t imagine wanting some sad sack dude obsessed with me now.

Truthfully, I don’t think I really liked it back then either, but you date one melancholic drummer with a motorcycle and an alcoholic father and BAM! You’re typecast. It happens so easily at that age.

Your first teenage relationship sets the stage, and you either settle into playing that character until graduation or you break out. I was a few years away from being strong enough to break out of anything.

Maybe I would’ve been friends with Zane in college, but probably only superficially. If we’d met in a class, we might’ve talked while we were there, but we still would’ve had totally different crowds. I can’t imagine we would’ve hung out together.

And if we’d met on a job after college? I’d have seen him as competition. It’s unlikely we would’ve become friends, and definitely nothing more. No workplaces romances for me.

I’ve only had two real adult romances, and I’m thoroughly single at the moment. After my last breakup, I threw myself into work more than ever.

I defined myself: a career woman, who struggles to make time for friends, let alone romance. It’s not that I necessarily wanted every aspect of the role, but that’s how it happened, and it fit.

I admit it’s nice to relax and put the world on hold while I had dinner with Zane. I forget all about the storm, my lack of a job, and even that I don’t have a bed to sleep in tonight, but as we sit here, waiting for the check, all those things rush back to compete for top worry.

“Thanks for the break from reality,” I say.

“Thanks for having dinner with me. You have a great laugh, by the way.”

“Well, you’re easy to laugh at.”

He laughs at that, just like I knew he would. It feels nice, weirdly comfortable.

“What should we do now?” he asks as we walk out of the restaurant.

“Well, if I were you, I’d go to my hotel room, take a nice, hot shower, and veg out with a movie.”

“Hmm, I see that going differently. I think you’d go to your room, take a shower, and then open your computer and start looking for a new job.”

I look away so he doesn’t see me smile. How did he do that? “Shows how little you know. I’m waiting until tomorrow to start my job search.”

“Wow. So, tonight you’re a free spirit, huh?”

“Is it so hard to believe that I could be carefree for one night?”

“I think I’m going to have to see it to believe it.”

“Suit yourself.”

Did I just invite this guy to hang out with me? This was supposed to be the moment we went our separate ways. Actually, that was supposed to have happened when I left the coffee shop. And when I left him standing outside the boutique.

Third time’s clearly not the charm here. I guess we’ll go our separate ways when he finally gets tired and wants to go to bed.

I openly smile at him. “Come on, stalker. I’ll buy you a drink. I owe you one.”

4

Zane

Next Stop, Rome

“Doesn’tlooklikethereare any seats available in this one either,” I say, staring into the second packed bar we try. The bar at the restaurant where we ate was standing room only as well. There is another option, but I’m not sure how she’ll react when I suggest it.

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