The Journalist: A Sexy Contemporary Romance

by Tia Lewis

  He raised both eyebrows as he stared at me. "Seriously?"

  "Yeah. It has to be something I like and doesn't link me to the story in any way."

  "Jesus! You're so picky. Is Taylor fine?"

  I'm shocked by the name that he just said. "Did you just think that up or you have been thinking of this for a long time now?"

  "I just did. Why?"

  "It's a terrible choice."

  "Megan?"

  "Christ, Dylan, are you kidding me? Megan?"

  "Alexa! We aren't trying to pick our baby's name here. We're just trying to find another name, so no one knows it's you. Stop being so picky and let's get back to work."

  "Fine! We'll have this conversation later. Right now? I think my appetite just came back."

  "Argh Lord, she's really going to milk this dry." I heard him say as I called to the waitress.

  Two plates of banana pancakes and three cups of coffee later, Dylan and I were ready to get back to work. The café was emptying out gradually. People had left to go back to their workplace and then back to their homes. It wouldn't be long before we would also have to leave. I was beginning to get tired of just sitting in this one place for so long, and that has absolutely nothing to do with the fact that I was tired from studying all through two nights for a test.

  I was a flighty person by nature. I didn't know how to be still in one place for so long. I liked to move. Staying in one place for too long made me feel caged. Over the last few months, I had gotten so used to moving around that I knew no other life.

  The only thing that was keeping me back here was school. I was thankful for that one stable thing in my life.

  "Why did you start hooking?" he asked me.

  "I…umm…I needed the money," I replied hesitantly.

  "What for?" he prodded.

  I didn't want to answer, but I agreed to do this. Did I tell him the story I tell everyone and I'd come to accept as my story, or did I tell the whole story of my life? I decided on the latter. It was high time I started to talk. Maybe not the whole thing but some parts.

  "My story is no different from most of the girls out there. I ran away from home after a bit of a squabble with the folks. I thought it was the wise thing to do so I left.

  "After some time on the streets, when I exhausted every single dime I had on me when I ran, which was not so long if I can add, I realized I needed to do something to make money. I used to roll with this girl, and together we did odd jobs, but there were only so many things people could trust people like us with.

  "This friend used to be the one hooking while I still stuck to the 'legal' way of making money. Then she fell ill and all of a sudden there were so many things to do with money but no money to actually do them. She couldn't work, so I had to work and fend for both of us and pay the rent and what not. One day the guy who collects the rent money comes to ask for his money, and I don't have it. He threatens to kick me and my just recuperating friend out if we don't pay. That was the first time I had to give a guy a blowjob to pay for something. I decided it was easier to keep paying rent with blowjobs. One thing led to another, and I eventually started hooking, too."

  "Wow," is all he said when I was done with the story.

  "Yeah. You know what they say about when you go bad?"

  "Yeah, you can't go back. But in all of this, why didn't you go back home to your family? Why didn't you go back to ask them for help?"

  "Because it was the last thing I would do, go back home. There was no point."

  "Your parents? Your siblings? Friends?"

  "The fight was too nasty for me to go back, and if I did go back, I would have still had to live with the very reasons I decided to leave. It would've defeated the purpose of leaving in the first place."

  "At the expense of your own safety?"

  "Sometimes pride is all that matters," I replied with a straight face. But I doubt that he understood all of this. He most definitely didn't. Patrice had never been able to deeply relate to this struggle and neither would he.

  "At the expense of your life?"

  "I haven't died. Yet. I doubt that you'd understand that. You probably have never been in that position before," I said, glaring at him.

  How dare he think he could judge me by the decisions I had made in my life?

  He looked like he was about to say something but he swallowed and decided not to say anything. I let my glare soften a little before I let it disappear totally.

  "I didn't mean to sound judgmental," he started to apologize. "I'm just trying to ask questions that the readers will ask when we publish this story. We don't want anyone looking for holes where there are none. I'm sorry."

  "It's alright. I'm sorry I snapped at you. I'm not used to this whole thing. Let's continue."

  "Are you sure you don't want us to stop here for today, and continue some other time? Like on Skype or IMO tomorrow?"

  "Is this you trying to avoid me?" I asked with a raised brow.

  "Absolutely not. It's just that the commute from San Francisco to this place is crazy."

  "If you say so," I said and moved away from the table. Looked like I had taken things a little too far this time.

  14

  Dylan

  By the time we finished with the first phase of the interview, I was beyond tired. I was exhausted both physically, mentally and probably even emotionally, even though I didn't exactly know what that last one meant. I've heard people use all three together, so that's what I just did.

  I packed my recorder, notepad, and pen back into my satchel and stared back at Alexa who was looking somewhat remorseful. I had no idea what it was she felt bad for and seeing as we had spent the whole evening together, I wondered why she had this sudden change of demeanor.

  "Are you alright?" I asked.

  "I'm good."

  "You don't look good. You look remorseful, and that look does not in any way suit you."

  That cracked open a small smile. "Well, I guess it doesn't. I hope you didn't have to cut the session short because of the way I reacted."

  "Absolutely not. What kind of a reporter would I be if I get scared off over every little squabble?"

  "I thought so, too. But why are we ending this so early?"

  "Because I think you need actual rest. You look like you need it. Did you even look in the mirror before coming here?" I asked, and she shook her head. "Exactly. We can continue this via video call tomorrow. And that part about not understanding what it's like to have to choose pride over all else? I totally understand. I've had quite the experience with it myself."

  "You have haven't you?"

  "Trust me, I have. It might not be the same, but I have."

  "Family?"

  "Yeah family."

  "Why don't you tell me one thing about you for a change? I'd really like to hear it," she said.

  "This is your interview, not mine, remember? I should be the one asking all of the questions?"

  "You should be trying to make me happy here. I'm doing you a great service of granting you an exclusive interview for no cost. The least you could do is answer my questions."

  "You're doing it for free huh?" I retorted playfully.

  "Yup. Last time I checked, I wasn't collecting a dime."

  "So what would you call the plates of food and the cups of coffee I just bought?"

  "A gift from one friend to another?" she replied with a wide grin.

  "Last time I checked, ma'am, I was just an acquaintance. So that doesn't count."

  "Oh, come on! It's just one question. You asked me a million already."

  "I never tell things about myself on first dates," I replied. "I end up jinxing things."

  "There's nothing to jinx here. You jinxed it from the night we met. Now seriously."

  "Fine. Just one. As you well know, I'm a broke ass reporter. I've a bit of an inflated ego so, despite all of the troubles I've had, I can't afford to go back to my family and ask them for help. It doesn't look good for me. Especially consideri
ng that everyone thought I'd be studying law in college."

  "Oh. You strayed!"

  "I didn't stray. That's not the word. I found my true calling. I'd always loved to write, but my father didn't see journalism as worthy enough of a profession."

  "Journalism is a good enough profession as any."

  "Tell that to my father. He had such big plans for me."

  "So has he finally accepted your dreams for what they are?"

  "He did eventually. When I got the internship here with the magazine, he realized how good of a writer I was to be able to score an internship with a huge magazine name. I'm so glad he didn't get to see me spiral down."

  "You haven't told him you're not doing too well, have you?"

  "There's no one to tell. My father died shortly after I got the internship. If there is anything I am glad for, it's the fact that I was able to sort things out with him before he died. I never would've been able to forgive myself if we had gone on being angry at each other till he died."

  "What are you trying to say to me?" she asked, her eyebrows drawn into a thin straight line. I knew I should tread carefully here or I would get her angry again. The last thing I wanted to invoke was her anger.

  "I'm not trying to say anything too farfetched. Just that sometimes, we tend to think that we have all the time in the world to spend with our family—our loved ones. We think that they have all the time in the world too, so it doesn't matter right now if we aren't on good enough terms with them.

  "But here's the truth I've come to learn, Alexa. We don't have all the time in the world to play anger games. I don't know who hurt who in this issue of your folks and you, but if you still have parents that you can fight with, you should be grateful for that. So when you have misunderstandings, instead of keeping grudges, settle the ones you can now, and live to fight another day. This might be none of my business, but I think you should at least check on your parents while you still can."

  Her eyebrows relaxed just a bit, and at that moment, I could swear that she was not angry anymore. That my words had connected with her one way or the other. That she understood. She took a deep breath.

  "You're right. It's none of your business," she said and walked out of the café without another word.

  I stared at the space that a few minutes ago were occupied by her, and I cursed myself. Why couldn't I just mind my damned business? I was too weak to even run after her. I just placed my head on the table and let my eyes close shut.

  My phone vibrated in my pocket, and the text message alert beeped twice. It was her: “Wanna come to my apartment now instead of IMO tomorrow? Could save you the travel time and cost. I'm waiting outside.”

  15

  Alexa

  I had no idea why I decided to invite him to my apartment to continue the interview. It just seemed like the right thing to do after the way I walked out on him. He had, after all, been only telling the truth. A part of me realized this, but I was too scared to accept it. It wasn't until I stepped out of the café, that I realized it was such a stupid thing to do. Hence the text. Dylan was the closest I've had to an actual friend in a while, and I think I kind of trusted him.

  I had thought he wouldn't come out to meet me, but he practically ran out of the café. I had teased him about it, and he had said something about not losing his muse this early into the journey.

  Dylan was doing a pretty good job of making himself at home in my apartment.

  He had made himself a cup of coffee, settled into a chair and was watching television as I stepped into the bathroom to have a bath and change into a pair of shorts and a tank top. I almost pulled the tank on without a bra, completely forgetting I had a guest.

  His laughter at something he was watching snapped me back to reality, and I quickly went back and pulled on a bra I hung in the bathroom the night before. When I stepped outside, he was setting his journal and pen on the coffee table.

  "Now you look like an actual person," he said as I sat on the beanbag beside the chair he was sitting on.

  "You apparently haven't learned your lesson still," I joked. "I could have you kicked out even now, you know?"

  "Then please accept my apologies, your royal pain in the ass," He teased back.

  I smiled at him weakly. He was a pretty cool person. Another time, another circumstance, I wanted to think we might actually have made good friends. He was goofy, fun, smart and seemed not to take things too seriously; just the kind of people I liked to hang out with.

  "Your apologies have been recognized and accepted," I said with a slight bow of my head.

  "Shall we get right down to business?" he asked.

  "So serious," I replied. "Fine, where were we?"

  "We've covered a lot of ground already. I don't need you going over what happened to you the other night because I understand how traumatizing it can be. But I do have to ask your permission to add that part to the story. I remember every word you told me about it, but I still need your go ahead."

  "Does it have to be in there?" I asked, not bothering to hide the skepticism I felt.

  "It doesn't have to be in there. But it should be in there. This is your story. And your story isn't complete without that part in there. Other than the fact that it would endear you to a lot of the readers, it would help those other girls out there know that they can grow beyond whatever bad experiences they've had. Remember this isn't about you anymore."

  "But…"

  "But nothing," he said gently. "You've given these men far too much power over you. I'm willing to bet that the next days after it happened you were not able to get yourself to go out. And from the other night, I can tell for sure you haven't been able to have sex with anyone. That is you giving them too much power over you. Sex is even farfetched. I am willing to bet that you can't even kiss a man without cringing."

  "I can," I said defiantly.

  "Right. Why does it seem like you're trying to convince yourself?"

  "I'm not trying to convince anyone," I said, and even though I was trying so hard to believe myself, even I didn't hear the conviction in my voice.

  "Right."

  I didn't like what he was insinuating, and I wanted to prove to him that I was very much capable of kissing a man. I had gotten over those beasts, and I would prove it to myself. A crazy notion formed in my head and the harder I tried to push it away, the more it made sense. I should actually shut him up with this idea in my head.

  Just as he was about to say something, most likely a snide comment about my inability to move the fuck on, I pulled myself up to my knees and planted a kiss on his lips.

  His lips were soft and tasted of a mix of coffee and the sweetness of maple syrup—the one he had probably tasted when he stole some of my pancakes at the café.

  The night appeared to me in flashes as I continued to kiss him despite what seemed like a resistance on his part. The harder I tried to push the memories down, the more they came up. I wouldn't let them get the better of me. I was stronger than this. I forged on until eventually, Dylan opened his mouth to me and actually kissed me back.

  Satisfied by what I had managed to accomplish with just a move, I pulled away from him. He was obviously dazed.

  "What was that for?" he asked.

  "To prove to you that I am very much capable of kissing someone," I replied with a smirk.

  "That was quite the daring move. But the question is, did you actually do it because you wanted to and felt like it, or just because you wanted to prove a point? Did you actually enjoy the kiss or was it a chore? That is the question you ought to ask yourself," he said and turned back to his notepad.

  I knew what this was. He was trying to bait me. He wanted me to kiss him again. But to what end. I managed a glance at him and I saw he wasn't even looking my way. He was busy scribbling something in his notepad like I didn't exist. I thought back to what he said. Did I actually enjoy that kiss? All that time, my mind had been on trying to get them out of my mind. It had indeed been a chore not somethi
ng of desire. How long was I going to live like this?

  I heard Dylan call my name and just as I turned to answer him, I felt his lips on mine again. He was the one that started to kiss me this time. I closed my eyes and tried my hardest to accept him. First, that is all I did. Tried. Then as the kiss grew deeper, I actually felt myself starting to loosen up. I felt myself soaring gently out of the old world and moved into this new one. I felt the hunger in his kiss and I also felt my own hunger grow with his. To my shock, he pulled away immediately, leaving me breathless. This time, I felt it. Gosh had it been so long! Too long in fact. My lips were hot, and I could swear they would look fiery red.

  "Why…why did you stop?"

  "Because I want to see if it was a chore as well this time. It apparently wasn't," he said with a smile. "Now shall we get to actual work?"

  Work, I thought. Work, he said. What was this man? Work after he had managed to awaken me after so long? He had to be kidding me. His hands were outstretched before me, pen in one and notepad in the other.

  "Right. Work indeed," I said and tossed the pen and notepad away.

  "What is…" before he could complete his sentence, I kissed him full on the mouth.

  "Oh wow," he murmured under my lips. He clasped his hands behind my head, and he started to kiss me back. I felt the heat of his mouth. He was quite the kisser. No wonder he had kept at it the other night. He would never have believed that anyone could resist him. If it hadn't been for the way I was wired, I probably would never have been able to.

  His kisses grew deeper, and I clung to him like a leech. His tongue touched my lips, seeking entrance into my mouth. I let him in, fully aware of what I was doing and thoroughly enjoying it. My fingers moved through his hair and then down to his tee. My fingers played on his chest through his clothes, and then they were back to his hair.

  His own hands moved away from my face and started to move in small circles over my body. We were both on our knees now, kissing with so much fire. His hands moved from my neck to my breasts, and I could feel the heat of his palms even through my bra and tank. As he touched, I felt the flashes trying to come to the forefront.