9. Jenna

9

JENNA

U nfortunately, things went downhill for me after my exciting conversation with Vas. My meeting with the department head, rather than being an offer for the full-time faculty position I'd put in for, ended up being the revelation that the position had been eliminated due to budget cuts. On top of that, my classes were going to be cut by half next semester.

"Still," the head of the department said as he disinterestedly shuffled some papers on his desk, his eyes never quite meeting mine, "it's better than nothing, right?"

I bit my tongue, tasting the bitterness of disappointment. I was counting on those two classes to maintain my income so it would be enough to pay rent and student loans at the same time, and you assured me that I was guaranteed both for next semester, only to jerk them right out from under me.

In the end, all I said was, "It sure is," then left the room before I punched this smarmy jackass in the face.

I made the trip home on the bus in a daze, the familiar rattle and hum of the engine a stark contrast to the turmoil in my mind. The grey city streets blurred past as I stared out the window, my reflection a pale ghost superimposed over the passing scenery.

I'd been killing myself with these gig jobs for five years now, working to build my reputation as a teacher and increase my list of publications. I'd hardly had any time to work on my stuff this year; I'd been running around from school to school. And now, my best opportunity for getting out of the adjunct rat race was gone for the foreseeable future.

God, I was so tired of it. I was tired of sucking up to faculty at three different schools in my quest to get more classes, more face time, more acknowledgment of my existence. I was so tired of spending hours on the bus every day as I went from place to place because I couldn't afford a car and wasn't allowed to teach any classes online. I was so tired of always pushing, always prepping, always putting my creative dreams and goals on the back burner in exchange for making a subsistence wage.

As I trudged up the stairs to my duplex, keys jingling in my hand, I couldn't help but think about the many years I spent getting my PhD. I didn't regret it, but it sure wasn't making the difference in my desirability as a teacher that I'd hoped for.

Thank God for this experience with Vas. It sounded fascinating, and I was excited to do it with him. Of course, a guy with his background would know about Perfect Match, and the thought of getting outside of my own head for days or even weeks—however time ended up working for us once we got going in there—was delicious, particularly now that I knew I had a few weeks of serious hustling in front of me to make up for my lost income.

The questionnaire was waiting in my inbox when I finally settled at my desk, and I started filling it out while eating lentil soup straight from the can. It was depressing, but my microwave was broken, and I didn't have the energy to heat the soup on the stove and then wash the pot and the bowl.

"Gosh," I muttered, scrolling through the seemingly endless list of questions. "A lot of them are about sex."

Heck, it seemed like more than fifty percent was about every little nuance and preference. I knew from Melissa's story that Perfect Match was like a hookup on steroids, so all those questions about sex made sense, but Vas's screenplay was clean, and I didn’t think he intended things to go in that direction.

Too bad. I hadn't been with anyone for longer than I could remember, and I wouldn't mind a virtual tumble in bed with Vas.

It took hours to check off all the boxes, and then I went back and changed some of my answers. I wasn't the adventurous type in bed, and most of my answers in that department had been timid, but then it occurred to me that I would be missing a perfect opportunity to push myself beyond my comfort zone and experience things I wouldn't dare to do otherwise.

After all, I would be a totally different person inside the adventure. I would be Adina, and I wouldn't even remember being Jenna, so the experience would be entirely authentic. Vas would be James, and he wouldn't remember who he was in real life either, so perhaps he would be less reserved with Adina than Vas was with Jenna.

When I finally sent it in, it was with no small number of jitters. What if the algorithm decided that Vas and I were completely mismatched?

Not that it mattered.

Even though there was an element of romance to the story, we weren't going into the adventure as romantic partners, so our compatibility was irrelevant. Vas had asked to do this with me because he trusted me with his artistic vision. Still, I didn't want him to get an assessment of our lack of compatibility because I secretly hoped that there could be something more between us.

I pushed away the thought before it could sink its claws too deep into my mind. Vas liked me, I knew that, but not the way I liked him. He didn't think of me every night, hadn't been crushing on me for months, and didn't want to have any more than just a single class and a single experience with me. He was a wealthy businessman who wouldn't be around for much longer. I needed to appreciate what I had with him without longing for more.

At least you'll have this experience together , I consoled myself. It'll give you some fond memories to keep you going when things get tough again .

Speaking of which, I might as well pay as many of my bills as I could while I still had money in savings. After that, I should start trawling job sites.

Heck, maybe my agent would email me to let me know that there had still been zero interest in my book from the big publishers, just to hook the caboose onto the self-pity train.

"Yay," I said sarcastically to my empty apartment, raising my can of soup in a mock toast.

As I settled in for a long night of job hunting, my phone buzzed, and my heart leaped when I saw it was a text from Vas.

Just wanted to check in and make sure you got the questionnaire. Looking forward to our experience together.

I couldn't help the smile that spread across my face. Despite everything, there was still this bright spot to look forward to. I quickly typed back a response.

Got it and filled it out. Can't wait for the weekend .

His reply came almost instantly. Me neither. Sweet dreams, Jenna .

I stared at those three words, my heart doing a little flip. Sweet dreams. It was such a simple phrase, but coming from Vas, it felt like so much more.

With a sigh, I set my phone aside and turned back to my laptop. The job listings stared back at me, a stark reminder of my current reality. But as I scrolled through the postings, I found myself holding on to the warmth of Vas's message.

Things weren't perfect, and my career wasn't where I wanted it to be, but I had this experience to look forward to.

I'd worry about the rest later.