Page 52 of No More Heartbreakers

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Victory Kiss

For the next few weeks, Aric and I saw each other only in passing at work on the weekdays.

On Saturdays and Sundays, we continued shooting interviews and stand-ups for each other, compiling more impressive resume reels than either of us could have made on our own.

I even managed to anchor a couple of newscasts without losing my frozen diet dinner first. Yes, there was some dry-heaving, but hey, it was an improvement.

Getting a job in a bigger, better market was becoming a more and more attainable goal for me.

But something had changed in Aric. He wasn’t unfriendly, but there was a noticeable pulling back, a dampening of his usual brightness. Our conversations had lost their exciting dancing-on-the-edge element, replaced by pleasantries and shoptalk.

“Hey, a buddy of mine from Mankato works in Nashville now, and he told me about a female anchor opening there. Good station—the ABC affiliate. You should apply,” Aric said.

My heart leapt and cringed simultaneously at his suggestion. I’d always loved Nashville, having visited my aunt and uncle there throughout my life. And it was a great news market. From there, you could go to New York or L.A. or even to a network.

“Sounds good. I’ll think about it.” My tone indicated the exact opposite.

Aric and I were on our way to Athens for the most anticipated matchup of Georgia’s football season.

The highway was a ribbon of red and black, as cars full of pumped fans honked and cheered each time a vehicle sporting roof-top streamers or a Bulldogs banner passed by.

It wasn’t every day the home team faced the number one ranked team in the SEC, Alabama. If we hadn’t been going there to report on the game, we probably couldn’t have gotten near the place—seats had been sold out for weeks.

The two of us had come in early and shot a few stories this morning, getting the lesscrucialnews of the day out of the way and clearing our schedules for the undisputed top story of the week.

I drove so Aric could begin writing one of his stories for tonight. We would stay for the entire game to capture the home team’s unlikely but hoped-for celebration and the fan reaction afterwards.

Dennis would also be there with Colleen as his photographer, and Allison had come in to cover the producing. You couldn’t overdo coverage of Georgia vs. Alabama.

“Nashville’s a great city, if you’ve never been there.” Aric tried prompting me out of my silence.

“No, I know it’s a great place. It’s just…”

“What? You want to go further away? Get outside the South?”

“No, actually, Nashville would be an amazing next step. But it’s kind oftoofar away. And I’m still not sure I’m ready for it. It’s such a big market. My reel—”

“Would you give yourself a break about your reel? I saw you working on it last weekend, and it’s good—I mean really good. Is there some other reason you don’t want to leave? Do you want to stay close to Hale?”

“No. Really, the job sounds great. I’ll call and find out about it.” I tried to make my voice match my positive words.

“Great.” Aric extended a hand to me. “Give me your phone.”

I gave it to him. “Why?”

“I’m putting my buddy’s number in it. He’s a photog there—awesome guy. His name’s Sky Walker.”

“Really? George Lucas would be so proud.”

Aric looked up from my phone, where he’d been entering the name and the digits.

“Well, his real name’s Larry, but he played basketball in high school, and I guess the guys on the team nicknamed him Sky. It does have a nice Jedi ring to it, though.”

His raspy laugh never failed to send a rush of warmth through my belly… and lower. The torturously tiny car was filled, as always, with his amazing scent.

And when we reached the stadium and Aric leaned over the trunk to get our gear, I had to force myself to look away from the too-enticing picture his well-fitted jeans presented.

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