If I Break THE COMPLETE SERIES Bundle by Portia Moore Page B

to say?” he asks defensively.
    What do I want him to say? What the fuck do I want him to say? I want him to say he’s sorry for everything, sorry that he’s played with my emotions, sorry that he’s such an ass, that he leaves me alone for days without a single phone call, sorry that he’s made me into a person I don’t even recognize, that he’s eroded my self-confidence, sorry that he exists in my life!
    I don’t hear anything except silence on the other end. Oops, I must have said all that out loud.

    I’ve been sitting here in my old bedroom in silence for twenty minutes, waiting for him to call me back. I shouldn’t be waiting for him. I  should  be happy that he’s not attempting to call me back. I brush my fingers through my hair and sigh. I hear a soft knock on the door.
    “Honey, is everything okay?” Raven asks, quietly walking into the room.
    “Yeah, everything’s fine,” I say, forcing another smile.
    She opens her mouth as if she’s about to say something, but then she changes the subject. “I completely forgot I told Mrs. Ingram that I’d have lunch with her today, before I knew you were coming. Would you like to join us? She’d love to see you.”
    “No, it’s okay. I think I’m just going to stay here and think some things through. Tell her I said hi.”
    “Okay, if you need anything, just call my cell,” she tells me, as if I’m a twelve-year-old again.
    “I’ll be fine,” I assure her.
    “I’ll see you later, honey,” she says, shutting the door.
    I suddenly feel exhausted. I strip the big quilt and colorful sheets off the bed, replacing them with some sheets I brought from home. After I’m done, I look around the room, taking a deep breath. This place will take some getting used to again. I crawl into the bed, hugging the pillow as if it’s a stuffed animal.

“I went to University of Illinois for two years before I transferred to Indiana State, where I played football. Believe it or not, I originally majored in criminology. It’s funny how I jumped from criminology to journalism, because they’re so different from each other. Initially, I only took it in high school because of this girl I had a crush on. Then I changed it because criminology was getting too complicated. I thought it was the best thing I ever did in my life. So when I graduated, I moved back to Chicago. My dad helped me get a job at the Tribune,  where my boss assigned me the Entertainment section. Who the hell reads that? But anyway, the point is…”
    Jason can’t shut up. I continue to nod and smile, pretending to be interested in what he’s saying. He’s been going on like this for twenty minutes; he hasn’t asked a single question about me except what I wanted to order. He then told me the dish he’s having is better and I should order that. I glance at my watch for the third time. I’ve never been this bored in my life. I don’t know if he’s nervous and just rambling on to cover it up, or if he’s really this self-absorbed. He seemed so different back at the club. Looks can sure be deceiving.
    I take a sip of my water. The ice has melted. Looking around, I admire how elegant the restaurant is. The piano is playing softly in the background. I could really enjoy this atmosphere—if Jason would just be quiet for a minute.
    “I remember my first piece for Journalism 101. It was on a dean sleeping with a student. I had a lot of fun with that, even though it only received a C. My professor always told me I could do better, and on my last paper, I finally had an A,” he continues. “So what about you?”
    I almost choke on my water; the opportunity to talk is unexpected—I thought he’d at least give me a rundown of every article he’d ever written before he asked  me  a question. “Well, I attend Chicago University. I’m majoring in English and minoring in art history.”
    “The art world is a hard world to break into,” he tells me, as if I don’t know.
    “That’s why