Chapter 13

Gideon was dressed exactly as he had been in class and yet looked completely different in this context. Here, Megs allowed herself to notice the slight wave in his hair, and the stubble on his chin. When she noticed he’d undone the top two buttons of his shirt, a shiver shot down her spine.

An employee called her number a second time, and she walked toward the counter which happened to be directly behind Gideon. “Hi,” she murmured as she maneuvered past him and grabbed her tray.

Gideon had moved to the side when she turned around, and she walked back to her booth, feeling his eyes on her. She slid onto the red vinyl seat, her mind racing. Megs drew a deep breath and let it out. They were just two ordinary people getting a burger after class. It wasn’t like they’d planned this. They weren’t here together. Just two people who both enjoyed the risk of diptheria while they gorged on greasy meat and garlic fries. She almost snorted.

Megs glanced up. Gideon filled a cup with soda, then returned to the counter for his order. She dropped her gaze as he turned and walked down the aisle. Her cheeks heated as he sat in the booth just ahead of hers, taking the seat that faced her. They exchanged awkward smiles.

“You actually did like the food.” Gideon lifted his voice so she could hear him.

Megs nodded. “You thought I was lying?” Gideon shrugged. “I didn’t think you’d be here so soon after class.” She shouldn’t have said that. That implied she’d been thinking about when he might go to Sammy’s, which she definitely hadn’t been.

“Have you been coming here in secret?”

Megs held out the fry in her hand. “No, I just meant I thought I was the only one weird enough to eat here in the middle of the afternoon.”

Gideon nodded at the two truckers in the back corner and lowered his voice. “Are you calling them weird?”

Megs couldn’t wipe the grin off her face as she took another fry. They ate in silence for a moment, and then Gideon asked, “Would you say this is better or worse than dinner the other night?”

Megs blinked. Which dinner was he referring to? Their dinner with the finalists or their first dinner here at Sammy’s. Megs went with the former. “Better than the Rustic Table.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m not stressed.”

Gideon’s brow furrowed. “You were stressed?”

“Of course I was stressed. I didn’t know anyone there.” She wasn’t sure if it had been better standing at the high-top with Sean, Melissa, and Layla or sitting next to Gideon across from Alli and Oscar. Probably the best part of the night was sitting alone in the bathroom stall.

“Didn’t even know me, apparently.”

Megs scoffed. “Hey, that was a defense mechanism. I didn’t want to explain to everyone how I ended up in your class.”

Gideon took a massive bite of his burger, and Megs waited while he chewed, then took a sip of his soda. Did his dimple always come out when he pursed his lips? “It’s not hard. You just say, ‘I enrolled in a class at Champlain, and Gideon’s the professor.’”

“Right. Easy to admit you’re taking a beginner class at a Community College when everyone else around you has an actual career.”

Gideon snorted. “Easier than saying you accidentally enrolled in a beginner class—”

Megs picked up a fry and threw it at him. He dodged, and she folded her arms on the table. “I guess I could’ve told them I was failing while I was at it.”

Gideon’s eyes widened. “Have you not checked your grades?”

Megs picked up her burger. “Why would I want to look at that?”

Gideon laughed as she took a bite and mustard dripped onto her fingers. “Because they might have changed. You know, since you submitted assignments?”

Megs set her burger down and picked up a napkin. “You graded them already?” Her heart raced. She was suddenly desperate to log in but didn’t want to smear condiments all over her laptop. What if he’d given her a bad grade? She didn’t think it was possible since she’d done everything he’d asked in the assignments, and they’d been relatively basic.

“Well, please check them before our next class.”

Megs frowned. “Why?”

“So you won’t show up acting like a cat who just got their tail stepped on.”

“I’m sorry, did you just compare me to a domestic pet?”

Gideon dipped a fry and put it in his mouth. “I thought it was a good metaphor.”

“You thought wrong.”

Gideon grinned, and Megs’ chest warmed. She wanted to grab her tray and move to his booth. Instead, she picked up her milkshake. “What did you think of the dinner?”

“It was good to see old friends again. I thought the food was good.”

“Seems like you and Alli are close." She took another bite of her sloppy burger, the juices running down her chin as she watched him for a reaction.

Gideon didn’t look up. "What makes you think that?”

Megs debated making an excuse and picking some piece of the conversation that could’ve led her to that conclusion, but decided against it. “Alli told me you dated for two years and neither of you wanted to break up.”

Gideon coughed. “When did that conversation happen?”

“When we went to the bathroom.”

He wiped his mouth with a napkin. “Is that why women go to the bathroom together? So they can gossip?”

“Absolutely. But it’s not gossip if it happened to her personally and she wants to tell me.” She’d been glad that Alli had been so forthcoming. It hadn’t taken much leading to pull that information out of her.

Gideon finished his burger and crumpled up the paper it was wrapped in. “We dated during college, but life took us in different directions. It happens.”

Megs nodded. “Were you sad about it?”

“Breaking up? Of course. She was the only long-term relationship I’d had at that point.” Gideon exhaled. “But last night wasn’t supposed to be about my dating life thirteen years ago.”

Megs couldn’t decide if that answer meant he still regretted the decision or not. “You weren’t thinking about it at all? It sounded like that was the first time you’d seen each other in years.” Megs had participated in so few relationships, that would’ve been all she was thinking about if her ex had appeared across from her.

Gideon stood and walked his tray to the trash can, then strode back to his booth but didn’t sit. He folded his arms in front of him. “Can we talk about something else?”

“Like what?” Megs sipped on her shake.

“Like what you think of the competition.”

“Considering I tried to quit at least three times?” She still couldn’t believe she hadn’t been successful.

Gideon laughed. “Matt’s not one to take no for an answer.”

“He’s relentless.” It was impressive, really, but she couldn’t figure out why he was so adamant she stay.

Gideon leaned against the edge of the booth and played with the lid of his soda cup. His hair fell over his forehead, and Megs thought about how it had done that right before he kissed her in the parking lot.

“He’s always been that way. It’s good and bad, I guess.” Gideon seemed to disappear for a moment, lost in thought. Then he glanced at her tray. “You didn’t quite finish half this time.”

Megs feigned offense. “It’s only been three hours since I had lunch.”

“Then why did you come?” His eyes locked onto hers as a slow smile started at the corner of his mouth.

Megs swallowed hard and stood, taking her trash to the receptacle. “I told you, I like the food.” She took one more napkin and wiped off her fingers, then took a final drink of her shake and dropped it in the bin.

"Off the record?” Gideon’s voice was low, and Megs looked up as her heart raced. Gideon pushed off the bench and straightened. “You didn’t seem nervous last night. I think you made a good impression.”

Megs’ lips twitched. “Off the record . . . thanks.”

The afternoon sun peeked through the curtains. Megs stood there in her childhood bedroom, still dressed in her coffee-stained apron and worn-out sneakers. Her shift at the coffee shop had been busier than usual. It was only two o’clock and already exhaustion seeped into her muscles. She wanted to drop onto the bed and close her eyes, but she’d been trying to line up apartment tours for a few days, and this was the best option.

Kicking off her sneakers, she reached for a pair of comfortable leggings and a cozy sweater to change into. It still wasn’t freezing out, but there was a nip in the air that required something more than a t-shirt.

Megs finished dressing, grabbed her keys and waist bag, and emerged from her room. Her mom was hunched over, rifling through her purse in the living room with her coat slung over the end of the couch.

"You okay?" Megs asked as she searched for her black flats.

“Mmhmm, I’m almost ready.” Sylvia adjusted her glasses on her nose.

Megs paused. “Ready for what?” She couldn’t remember why her mom was home this early on a weekday in the first place. Auditions were over, and she hadn’t mentioned any other changes to her regular schedule.

“For the apartment tours.” Sylvia held out her hands, looking at her as if Megs was the crazy one.

Megs bit her lip. She’d told her mom that she was going, but had she invited her? "I was actually planning on going by myself."

"Really?" Her mother’s face fell. Megs couldn't help but notice the hurt flickering there.

“Mom, I’m sorry, I didn’t think you’d want to come along—”

“Why wouldn’t I want to come along? It’s your first time—”

“No, it’s not my first time.” Megs bent over and pulled her flats from the low shelf beside the door. “I found my own apartment in Chicago.”

“We looked online together.”

“I know, Mom. I’m not saying you didn’t help, I’m just saying I’m capable of finding a place.”

Sylvia pulled her coat off the couch and shook it out. “I wasn’t saying you weren’t capable.”

Megs stood and sighed. “Mom. I’m twenty-five, and I know I haven’t done much to inspire confidence in my ability to adult, but—”

“Megs, it’s not about that! You’re my only daughter at home, and I just wanted to help.”

Megs pursed her lips. “Fine. Let’s go.”

“Megs—”

“Just get in the car please!” Megs opened the door and stalked out onto the landing.

Megs descended the steps and crossed the driveway, then slid into the driver’s seat and turned on the car. She closed her eyes and breathed in the scent of sun-warmed leather upholstery mixed with the faint smell of coffee that still clung to her from her morning shift.

Sylvia followed a few seconds later and climbed into the passenger seat. “Well. That was a new experience.”

Megs put the car in reverse. “What was?”

“You telling me to get in the car. Usually I was the one telling you and Bobbi to get your shoes on and get in your seats.”

Megs backed into the cul-de-sac. “Which side is it better to be on?”

Her mom laughed. “The one giving the commands, definitely.”

Megs shot her mom a look and smiled. It wasn’t that she didn’t want her here, it just made it a bit harder for her to remember what character she was supposed to be playing. "Alright.” Megs pulled out her phone at the stop sign and opened the apartment listings she had saved. "First stop is on Pine."

She handed her phone over and let her mom give her directions. The trees had fully dropped into their autumn transformation, and the street was alive with reds, oranges, and golds.

When they arrived at the first apartment building, Megs couldn't help but feel a flutter of disappointment in her chest. She’d seen this building plenty of times growing up, but hadn’t purposely driven by it in years, and it didn’t look like time had been good to it. The exterior was worn and faded, with peeling paint and cracked siding.

Megs pretended to ignore the forced smile on her mother’s face and walked to the stairwell where a thin, harried-looking man was waiting.

“Megs?” He looked down at his clipboard.

She nodded, and the man led them down the shadowed hall to an apartment on the lower level.

“This is our basic unit. I have two available at the moment, and of course you’d be welcome to get a roommate, but we don’t match people for obvious reasons.”

He opened the door and motioned for them to go inside. The apartment was small, cramped, and dimly lit. The air felt thick with dust and a faint musty odor permeated the space.

"Cozy, isn't it?" Sylvia’s voice dripped with sarcasm. Megs elbowed her. They walked through the combined kitchen and living area, briefly looking at the bathroom and bedroom, then hurried back to the hall.

This apartment was on the cheap end, but only a little cheaper than the others they were going to look at. Megs crossed her fingers they’d be better. “Thank you so much,” she said as they passed the landlord.

“Let me know if you want it. I’ve got a couple of other people interested.”

Megs looked back. “I’ll email you. Thanks again.” She pulled out her phone and sent a quick text to Haley.

You weren’t kidding. Pine Apartments = Breaking Bad ??

Haley commented a laugh and sent an I told you so GIF.

Against all odds, the second apartment was even worse than the first, but this time because of the people rather than the bone structure. The two girls who already lived there were loud, messy, and didn't seem particularly interested in keeping the shared spaces clean. The bathroom was a disaster, with mildew between the shower tiles and a mysterious puddle forming in one corner. The dishes piled high in the sink made the kitchen equally unappealing.

They were driving to the third apartment—the one Megs was most excited about—when her mom brought up the acting competition. Megs had been wondering how long it would take and was surprised she’d been able to keep it bottled up for over an hour.

"Tell me more about this audiobook thing, Megs.” Sylvia kept her eyes fixed on the road.

“There’s not much to tell.”

“Have you met Oscar Calloway yet?”

Of course that was her first question. Megs gave her a sidelong glance. “Is that what this is about? You want to meet a famous author?”

Her mom blushed. “No, I was only curious. Since he moved back to the area, I’ve heard rumors.”

“What kind of rumors?”

“That he’s charming. Funny. Single.”

“Mom, seriously?” Sylvia wasn’t the kind of mother who taught her daughters they needed to be in a relationship to be successful, but since she and Frank had gotten more serious, she’d become a bit of a love and relationship advocate. Megs was glad she was happy, but was sick of the preaching that her mother surely thought of as encouragement.

Her mom winked. “I just thought it was an interesting opportunity.”

Megs gripped the wheel tighter. “It is an interesting opportunity.” Sixty thousand dollars over the course of a book series. That would be more than a year’s salary doing something she loved. Or theoretically loved. She adored acting, but who knew what it would be like to record multiple books.

On paper, it was all her favorite things about acting without the things she was insecure about. The way she looked, the way she moved. She could pour everything into the characters, bring the story to life, and not have to worry about any of it.

Her heart beat faster. There was that feeling. Like she was strapped into a roller coaster clicking up a steep track. It could never be that easy.

Megs pulled over and parked on the curb. The house was painted a cheerful blue with white trim just like in the pictures.

"Alright." Megs straightened her shoulders as they got out of the car. "Hopefully, third one’s a charm."

Sylvia sighed and adjusted her glasses. Megs knocked on the door and a girl with a pixie cut flung it open. “Hey. Are you Megs?”

Megs nodded, and the girl held out her hand. “I’m Neely. Here, come in.”

As they stepped inside, Megs held her breath. She scanned the living area, just waiting to see something broken or disgusting. The furniture was worn, but clean. There were books on the shelves and a guitar sitting in the corner.

“I can show you the room we have open. I know it’s probably not the best option you’ve found, but it’s cozy.”

Megs grinned. “Let’s see it.” She liked this place already. Her apartment in Chicago had been on the fourth floor with no elevator, her roommate rarely smelled like anything but weed, and the guy across the hall always sat in front of his door making sand art.

Megs ascended the narrow wooden stairs behind Neely, each step creaking in protest under her weight. “These stairs have seen better days,” Sylvia murmured.

Neely swung open the wooden door once they reached the landing. "Welcome to the loft."

“Isn’t this an attic?” Her mother asked.

“Mom.”

Neely grinned. “Loft sounds more exciting than attic.”

The room was small. Intimate. The ceiling was slanted, framed by wooden beams, and a single window sent a splash of sunlight onto the hardwood floor. The paint on the walls, once a vibrant aqua, had faded over time.

“It’s . . . quaint.” Sylvia folded her arms.

"It's a little rough around the edges," Neely admitted. "But it's got character. With a little love and care it could be really charming.”

“And you can’t beat the price,” Megs murmured. This room had been listed at three hundred and fifty dollars a month. Probably because there wasn’t a private bathroom and it was on the edge of town, but those seemed like hurdles she could easily jump after seeing the other two options.

Her mom pointed to a clay sculpture sitting on the windowsill. "Did someone here make this?" she inquired.

Neely nodded. "Yeah, I did. I work at the pottery studio just outside of town. It's where I create most of my pieces.”

“It’s beautiful.” Megs shoved her hands in the back pockets of her jeans. "I think this place has potential.”

They took a quick peek at the bathroom at the bottom of the stairs, then thanked Neely and walked back to the car. Megs’ mind was humming. That place felt like a home, not some barrack she’d be forced to live in.

“I don’t know, Megs. I think you could find something better. Something with a bathroom, at least, and I’m more than happy to pay a higher deposit—”

"I think it’s perfect.”