Channel 20 Something (14 page)

The passage of time wasn’t helping either. I’d relived those moments in the edit bay so many times, if it had been a DVD, the scene would’ve been burned straight through by now.

I could barely remember the hundreds of times I must’ve kissed Hale. Why couldn’t Aric have been more like him? Then we could’ve passed the time we had left together at WPLM, helping each other and having fun without the threat of it going any further. But I knew myself and what I could handle. And I could not handle a relationship with Aric.

He was too much for me. Too good looking, too charming, too sexy. Too much. Maybe I would send my reel for the Nashville job after all and get out of here before my willpower collapsed and it was too late.

The game was a total nail-biter. State held its own and did better than even the faithful had really expected. Both the offense and defense were playing out of their minds, matching the Tide touchdown for touchdown and keeping the score close.

When the fourth quarter came and the Bulldogs were still in contention, there was a palpable surge in emotion within the stadium, the home crowd shifting from desperate hope to actual expectation of a win against the best team in the nation. What had been consistent cheering during the first three quarters turned into a deafening roar in the last two minutes. It seemed like every person was on their feet, yelling, clapping. One woman in the stands near us was praying. The players on the sidelines with us hopped and shifted from foot to foot like kindergartners in line for recess. The energy in the stadium was a thing you could see and almost touch.

Alabama had possession of the ball, and somehow the Bulldog defense held them to only three plays, forcing them to punt with about a minute still on the clock. Three plays later, the MSU team had moved the ball down the field, but unfortunately not into the end zone. With only seconds left on the game clock, the game was still tied.

The good news for the home team was the Bulldogs were in field goal range. The kicker ran out onto the field, destined to become a lifelong hero or a lifelong social outcast in Hail State Nation.

Aric leaned close, speaking directly into my ear to be heard over the crowd noise. “I have an idea for the ultimate stand-up. But we’re going to have to pull it off on the first try, okay? There won’t be another chance.”

“Okay. What do you need me to do?”

Aric explained, and I set up the camera on the sideline, facing the goal posts and the giant video screen behind it. Aric stood in front of me. The plan was, if God was wearing maroon-and-white today, I would capture the kick sailing through the goalposts, magnified on the Jumbotron, the stadium would erupt, and I’d pull out and pan down to the field where the players would be leaping and celebrating all around Aric as he delivered his stand-up.

The kicker lined up on the forty-five yard line. I didn’t dare to glance at him as the actual play started. I kept my eyes focused on my camera’s display screen. On my job.

“One chance,” I heard Aric say on his mic.

I nodded, not looking away from the small screen. I knew from the sound of the crowd when the kick went off, and then, there it was, the football sailed into view on my monitor… and through the center of the uprights. Even through my headphones, the reactive noise was thunderous. I breathed out slowly, pressing my finger against the button to zoom out the shot. Slowly the screen filled with leaping, crying, shouting, laughing football players.

In front of them, Aric beamed and started his stand-up. He only had one shot to get it right, too. He delivered the news of an unlikely David-and-Goliath victory for the Mississippi team and closed it out with, “…reporting from the
new
happiest place on Earth, I’m Aric Serrano, WPLM Sports.”

As soon as I hit the stop record button, I jumped, too, joining the celebration. Not for the football team, but for Team Aric and Heidi. He’d performed flawlessly, and I’d pulled off the videography part of things without screwing it up. I was so thrilled for Aric. It was an incredible, once-in-a-career moment. He ran toward me, stepping around the camera and sweeping me up in an exuberant celebratory embrace. Anyone watching us would conclude we were, in fact, biased toward State.

He held me chest-to-chest as my feet dangled inches off the ground. He laughed, his gorgeous green eyes bright with success and his smile radiant. “We did it.”

I laughed, too, so happy, so thrilled to see
him
happy. God, he was beautiful. His perfect lips were inches from mine, his intoxicating sunshine-y smell all around me.

And then I kissed him. A real Oh-my-God-what-am-I-doing-I-shouldn’t-be-doing-this-but-I-am-and-I-can’t-stop lip lock.

Aric kissed me back. With enthusiasm. Instead of pulling away and giving me the WTF look or accusing me of being wishy-washy or telling me he’d gotten over it and was no longer interested, he pulled me close and kissed me until my knees wobbled and I was seriously entertaining the idea of performing a public sex act right there in the end zone. That wouldn’t violate my contract’s morality clause, would it?

Finally, Aric must have caught a whiff of common sense because he broke the kiss and lowered my feet to the ground. He still held me close as he stared into my eyes. As if it had just occurred to him, he said, “We have to interview people.”

“Oh. Yes. Right. The camera…”

I turned to make sure the station’s thirty-thousand dollar investment was still intact and, in fact, still with us. It was, thank God, and I snatched it off the tripod and followed Aric into the throng of fans overtaking the field. We waded through bodies until we reached MSU’s winning quarterback, Richard Lamar. Then I filmed as Aric interviewed the kicker about his game-winning kick and got a concise but good-natured comment from Coach Barton, to the obvious amazement of the competing sports reporters also covering the field. Then Aric started grabbing fans for man-on-the-street interviews, and it seemed each was louder and more home-team-boastful than the last.

As the furious pace of the post-game coverage slowed, my mind filled with thoughts I’d rather not have considered. Pretty soon we’d have all the material we could use for Aric’s report. We’d leave the stadium, climb into the tiny news car together. And then I’d have to face the consequences of the kiss. What had I been thinking?

I was crazy about him, and he was unbelievably hot, and in the excitement of the moment, my defenses had been lowered—that’s what I’d been thinking. But now—now I was thinking of how to dig myself back out of this hole I’d jumped into.

Speaking of jumping, four of the bounciest girls I’d ever seen in my life, all wearing MSU cheerleading uniforms, ran over to Aric and offered to give us a little spirit-to-go for the story. I rolled the camera as they squealed and whooped and screamed, “Go Dawgs! Whoo!”

I assumed this was a service they performed for every camera crew in attendance? But then, maybe not, based on the flirty looks some of the girls offered Aric. Before they ran off to shake their pom-poms in someone else’s direction, one of the cheerleaders high-fived Aric. Immediately afterward, he looked down at his palm, then put his hand into his pocket. She’d almost certainly given him her number, and how could I blame her? I’d almost certainly given him my heart, in spite of all my best efforts to hold onto it. The trick would be keeping him from knowing it.

“Okay. I think we’ve got all we need. You ready to head back to home base, partner?” He grinned, picking up the tripod.

“Sure.” I fell into step behind him as he forged a path through the lingering crowd. Once we got back to the station, we would both be working non-stop until news time. But there was a twenty-five minute ride to survive first. So, should I bring it up or let him?

“You’re very quiet over there. Wanna talk about what happened?” Aric asked from the driver’s seat after we’d weaved through the crowded campus streets to the highway.

“Not really.”

“Let me rephrase—I’d really like to talk about what happened. I know how
I
feel about you kissing me… but I’m dying to know what’s going through your head.”

My voice made no secret of the tension I was feeling. “After the newscast, okay? Can we talk about it then? Let’s get back to the station and get the job done, and then we’ll talk.”

Nothing from Aric. I looked over at his face, glowing in the lights from the dashboard. His earlier victorious expression was long gone.

“Well, that doesn’t sound good,” he muttered.

“It’s not bad… let’s just… let’s talk later. Please?”

“All right.” He sighed.

The rest of the ride was quiet except for my pen scratching softly against my notepad. Since Allison was producing tonight, I didn’t have to worry about writing every script, but I still had to write, track and edit my news package before anchoring the show.

As it turned out, we had so much game coverage, my story on the making of a local corn maze didn’t air until the bottom of the B block. The newscast started off with a live shot by Dennis from the Bulldogs stadium. I’d only spotted him and Colleen once during the game from across the field, and then after the game I caught a glimpse of them running for the post-game press conference in the field house.

Aric gave me a tense nod as he came onto the set for the sports segment. His story turned out incredibly well, and I had to admit, his stand-up was memorable. As soon as the closing music played, Aric left the set and headed for the newsroom. I spoke with Allison for a few minutes and thanked her for all of her help, putting off the inevitable a little bit longer. It was so unfair of me to have kissed Aric like that. How was I going to explain to him it had meant nothing, that it wasn’t going to change things between us?

He was waiting for me, keys in hand, when I reached the newsroom. “Get your stuff. We’re leaving.”

I stopped in place, my eyes going wide. “We can talk here.” My voice sounded nervous, even to me.

“No. For once, Heidi, you’re going to go somewhere with me.” When I stared at him in astonishment, he continued. “Come on. It’s time to make good on your vow to start saying ‘yes’ to things that scare you. I want you to leave with me. Right now. Now what do you say?”

“Yes?”

“Damn straight,” Aric muttered and strode toward the newsroom door.

I picked up my purse and walked with Aric out to the parking lot. A perfectly safe activity, but my heart was beating like I was being stalked by a stranger in a dark alley.

“Yours or mine?” he demanded.

“What?”

“Your car or mine? We’re going to go somewhere so we can talk uninterrupted and settle this thing. And we’re driving together, because I’m not sure I can trust you not to take off in that go-cart of yours and try to get out of this.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. I’m driving my car—I don’t want to have to come back and get it, or bring you back for yours. I’ll follow you.”

He looked down at me with narrowed, assessing eyes. “Fair enough, but if I look in my rearview and your little clown car isn’t behind me, I’m going to track you down. Even if you drive to your parents’ house and try to hide behind those two monster brothers you’ve been telling me about. I’ll have to… I don’t know… climb in your bedroom window or something.”

“Breakfast at Tiffany’s?”

“Yup. Thanks, Lillemor.”

“Don’t worry. I won’t try to escape,” I promised. “So… where are we going?”

“My place. Follow me.” Aric got into his Tahoe and backed out, waiting for me at the parking lot entrance.

I kept my word and followed him, though I had to do a sanity check.
We’re going to his apartment
. At night. Late. My heart was rolling in my chest like one of those bumpy dryer balls on the more-dry cycle.

I had no idea where Aric lived—I’d never asked, fearing what the question might reveal about my interest level in him. My curiosity grew as he drove to the posh neighborhood surrounding the prestigious Old Waverly golf course. No way did he live in one of these huge houses. But his truck pulled into a cul-de-sac, then the long driveway of a gorgeous cottage-style home with French doors all across the front and wrap-around porches. It was one of those new houses built to look like an old one, luxurious but traditional and fitting for the environment.

“Who lives here?” I asked as we both got out of our cars.

“Well, the Deerings live there.” He pointed to the big house. “And I live here.” Aric walked over to the freestanding garage apartment and unlocked the door. He opened it and flipped a light switch to reveal a staircase leading to the second floor of the structure.

I stopped in the driveway, suddenly afraid to be alone with him in any enclosed space containing a bed. Or a sofa. Or a kitchen counter. Not because of what he might do, but because of what
I
might do. “Can we… I’d rather talk outside if it’s okay.”

“Oh sure. Of course—that’s what I was thinking anyway. I just have to get my… Whoa. Hey boy. Hey, how’s my main man?”

A large golden retriever bounded down the stairs and burst out of the apartment straight at me. He leapt on me in a rush of blond fur and pink tongue, nearly knocking me off my feet.

“Thor. Get down.” Aric ran toward us, shouting.

The dog obeyed immediately, crouching in front of me and bobbing up and down with the suppressed desire to attack me with his friendliness. Aric reached me and put his hands on my upper arms.

“Are you okay? Did he hurt you? Sorry. I should’ve thought that through better. He’s usually well-behaved, but he loves girls.” Aric reached down and rubbed Thor’s head, sending a huge smile spreading across the dog’s face. “You’re a ladies’ man, aren’t you, boy?”

“Like father, like son,” I muttered.

“What?”

“I remember you said you had a dog.”

“Yeah. He’s been cooped up too long today. The Deerings usually let him run around all day when I’m working, but they’re out of town.” He nodded toward the dark main house. “Come on, let’s go around back.”

Aric led me to the rear of the house where a large stone patio overlooked one of the golf course’s fairways. Thor followed him at first then streaked past his master as he spotted a squirrel near the base of one of the tall pine trees in the yard. Aric invited me to sit on a padded chaise lounge near the patio’s center fire pit as he chose a few logs from a wood bin. He tossed them into the pit on top of some charred wood from a previous fire then added some small pieces of kindling and lit a match.