“Thanks. I love it. I really do.”
“I wish I had something I really loved. I still have no idea what I want to do.” I’m surrounded by people who knew their dream careers from when they were in the bloody womb. In my nineteen years, I still haven’t figured it out.
Every day, I’m with successful people, and I’m over here, proud that I can watch an entire series on Netflix in a few days. That’s my life.
I need more.
But what?
Unless Netflix is hiring, I don’t know what to do. I don’t know what I’m good at.
Maybe Netflix is hiring. You need to check on that.
“Go find it. You have so many opportunities, more than others, but you’ve not had the opportunity to explore them.”
“Is this your way of telling me that you don’t want me on the tour?” I joke, making light of something that is so on point that my stomach rolls with discomfort.
There are people who would kill to be in my situation, and I’ve been wasting the chances I have. I’m in a unique position. There’s not much a phone call couldn’t get me, especially if it came from my dad. That kind of seems like cheating, but people see my name or recognise me, and I am given stuff. It’s a stupid thing to bitch over, but I bet getting whatever I want isn’t nearly as rewarding as earning what I want. Despite Jennifer’s failed attempts at being a mother, she did build a career for herself even though name-dropping my dad had probably helped her along.
Ugh, I don’t know.
Plus, the idea of leaving Kitt now makes me want to, like, die or something just as dramatic.
“Of course it’s not. I want you here, but more than that, we all want you to be happy.”
“I’m not unhappy.” Not in my daily life, but something is missing. I want to get so passionate that I put in every ounce of everything to make whatever it is a success.
How do you decide what you want to do?
“Besides, I have no clue what I’d do. I don’t want to do anything with my degree. What would I do?”
He bites the inside of his cheek while he thinks. It’s sexy.
“You’re one of the most caring people I know. Doctor?”
“No, I wouldn’t be able to keep a straight face if I had to look at people’s parts.”
He laughs and the arm on the back of the chair creeps down closer to my shoulders. I like that. The movie is forgotten. His focus is on me, and although I know it’s temporary, I’m going to enjoy it.
“Actress?”
“Yeah, can’t act.” Although I’m doing a stellar job of acting like I’m not in love with him. In two years, only two people have guessed—Will and Peyton. Though it must be obvious to Kitt now, surely?
“Singer? You have an amazing voice.”
“I can sing, but how cliché would that be? Daughter of rock star releases first single. Yeah, no one will see that coming…” I roll my eyes.
Kitt laughs again. It’s rough and hot as hell, and it does things to my insides that make me want to go to bed—preferably with him, but B.O.B. would do, too.
“You can’t choose a career based on what people will think.”
“I know. Honestly, I don’t want a career in music though. I think I prefer music to be something I love, not something I have to work tirelessly for.”
He gives me a nod because he knows how much work it is even though, to him, it’s more than worth it.
Lifting one eyebrow, he looks down at my body. “Model?”
“Looking good all the time really isn’t where my talents lie.”
“You could not be more wrong there.”
Is it just me, or did it get seriously hot in here?
My mouth has gone dry, and I’m unable to form words. Nothing will come out. When he says things like that, he makes me feel nervous. I am usually confident and have no issues with speaking my mind. Around Kitt, I can be so painfully shy sometimes.
He could reject me, and I wouldn’t have a clue as to how to deal with that.
“Oh, first one is about to be killed,” I say, glancing back at the screen as the music turns chilling.
I’m not looking at him, but I can feel his eyes are still on me.
Keep watching the TV.
I want to kiss him again so bad that I have to dig my nails into the palms of my hands to refrain from reaching where they shouldn’t. The need pulses through my body. My breathing takes on a new pace—bloody fast—and I feel lightheaded.
How’s that even possible? You can’t breathe fast and not at all at the same damn time. And I don’t know if it’s the breathing thing or not, but I feel like gravity has upped and fucking left. How does he make me feel like I’m defying the laws of everything?
Concentrate on the TV. He can’t look at you forever. Even he will know the time has come to look away or risk being a creep.
Everything is fine. Totally fine.
It’s so not fucking fine that I want to face-plant on concrete.