Can't Go Home (Oasis Waterfall) by Angelisa Denise Stone

comparing Theodore and Dre.
    It was true though. I’ve spent a grand total of five, maybe six hours with Dre now, and I already know there’s something there, something incredible. Every time any part of his body as much as brushes up against mine, I can feel it from my toes to my neck. I just want to bust out in song, singing, “I’ve got chills; they’re multiplying.”
    Honestly, I used to get butterflies and goose bumps when Theodore touched me the right way or whispered in my ear with the right amount of breath and heat. But with Dre, even when he just puts his hand on the small of my back to guide me through a gate, my knees get wobbly, my breath catches and quickens, and my heart skips multiple beats.
    When Dre slid behind me on the carousel, I knew for certain that I was getting in over my head, but I wasn’t about to pull back on the reins and make it stop. I’ve reluctantly ridden roller coasters at nosebleed heights and at break-neck speeds, but yet, one kiddie carousel proved to be the most thrilling ride of my life. Everything changed the minute I felt his arms envelope me. I knew then that I would take this until the “complete and final stop.”
    I can’t figure him out though and that’s the problem. One minute, he’s romantic and sensitive, and the next minute, he’s crass and cocky. I’m not going to lie; I like the complexity and mystery that he brings to the table. However, he scares me, because this feels like the calm before the storm, the bliss before the heartache. But the bottom line is, nobody ever gets what she wants without going for it. I want Dre Donley. I’m going for it.
    “So who was the barely dressed man on your couch?” I ask, changing the subject.
    “Ahhh, just a new guy on the set. He’s my co-star,” she answers. “He needs work, but too much for me to handle on my own. You wanna give it a shot?” she asks.
    “Are you serious? How could he need work? He’s beautiful,” I wonder. The man was perfect; he was no “Dre Donley,” but was damn good-looking.
    “He’s got a two-pump peter; ain’t nobody got time for that,” Syd says, waving him off. “I’m supposed to see if he’s got something, anything, we can work with.”
    Sydney Rogers dropped out of college after her sophomore year of school. Syd likes to say that she “dropped out,” but that’s debatable. Academic probation and her 1.9 grade point average could have a little to do with it as well. It was mind-blowing that she scored high enough on the SAT to actually attend Georgetown, but she did. I’m still not sure how that was possible. Our high school was a joke, so her grades were high enough, I guess.
    But anyway, Syd is not the most academic person around. Shortly after she dropped out, she started waiting tables at a local bar in D.C. When she realized that her tips were not paying the bills, she began stripping at one of the upscale joints in D.C., a place frequented by Senators and Congressmen. It wasn’t long before Sydney made a name for herself, bringing in the big bucks.
    Sydney’s too pretty to be a stripper, even if she was making over a grand a week in tips. She knew she should be taking her talents elsewhere. Where she took them wasn’t exactly what I had in mind. Sydney quickly became Ivy Sterling, adult movie star. Ivy is in high demand, because she does it all and takes it all on. I tried repeatedly to talk her out of these decisions, but the more I pressed, the more she was certain that “acting” was the career she wanted to pursue. Kyle, her brother, came to D.C. to help me talk her out of it, but she wouldn’t budge. Sydney loved the limelight, even if it only shined a dim, gray light on her.
    When I got the job in Charleston at the Seaside Literary Agency, I convinced Sydney to become a “remote” actress and move to Charleston with me, so I could keep an eye on her. Whenever Syd’s director needs her, she flies to location and films. Sometimes, the film crew even