Page 19 of Puck Me Secretly

“I know.” I also had the most life-altering night with a man who blew my mind and then snuck out while I slept. Ask me which event made me more upset.

“We thought you'd need support.” Her eyes searched my face.

I shrugged. “I’m fine. They recovered my purse and my phone, but my suitcase is toast.”

Mom covered her mouth with her hand, tears filling her eyes. “Oh, my poor baby.”

“It’s fine, Mom. I’m fine. I’m just tired.”

“That’s my girl. You’re a true Ashford.” Dad spoke with pride in his voice. When I did something spectacular, he liked to remind me I was an Ashford.

I decided not to tell him I blacked out before we crashed.

“So, should we go?”

My parents did not know what to make of me. My entire childhood, I could not fly. My parents had sent me to hypnotherapy. They had medicated me and when that failed, canceled their share of overseas family vacations because I became too hysterical to get on anyflight. It was only when I left for New York that I had been willing to step on a plane. So, it was understandable that they didn’t understand my reaction or lack of reaction to surviving a plane crash.

I didn’t understand it either. I guess when you survive your greatest fear and live to tell about it, it becomes a non-issue. Besides, I had more pressing issues to work through.

My parents wantedto talk about the plane crash, but they didn’t understand what I had experienced and I had no desire to explain it to them. The only person I knew who understood what that had felt like was Max. I wished that I could commiserate with him or talk to him. That night I annoyed myself, because instead of sleeping, I spent my time thinking about him.

Did he think about me?

He had warned me he didn’t want to take our friendship past last night. I had thought I had understood what that meant, but I hadn’t anticipated how bad it'd make me feel.

Worse, I wanted more. More than he wanted to give me. I wanted more of his kisses. I wanted another orgasm. I wanted to go back to lying on the bed and watching a movie with him. I wanted the chance to ask him more questions. Who was he? Where had he gone? What was his story? Did he feel alone arriving in Vancouver by himself?

Max could be anywhere. And I didn’t even know his last name.

The next morning,bright and early, I showed up at the breakfast table. Dad sat at the end of the dining room table reading the sports section of the newspaper and Mom made notes in her diary.

“You’re up,” she exclaimed, so happy to see me. I gave her aquick hug.

Dad folded the newspaper down to inspect me. “Good morning.”

“Good morning.”

“So, I’ve been thinking about your role this year, Rory,” Dad spoke with authority.

“Darling, give the girl a chance to breathe,” Mom admonished. “She only arrived home yesterday.”

“No,” I interrupted. I wanted the distraction. I wanted to stop thinking about Max. I also decided that I wanted to get this year over with. The sooner I started my internship, the sooner I could get on with my life. “I would like to begin as soon as possible. Why not today?”

Even my father, who was the king of maintaining a stone face, couldn’t keep the surprise off his face. “That’s great.”

“I’d like to work in the media department. I would like to use my skills as an artist, maybe work with the graphic designer. I could help with the website, learn the ropes from the bottom up.”

My plan was solid. This could set me up with some strong working skills for when I entered the real working world. It would also put relevant work experience on my CV.

“Nonsense,” he scoffed. “You’re being groomed to take over for me. You’ll start as my right hand.”

Fuck. Me.

“Dad. Can we talk about this?”

“We just did.” His eyes narrowed at my hoodie and jeans. “I’m leaving in 30 minutes, so borrow clothes from your mother. Business professional.”

I knew that tone of voice. It was his CEO voice. The do-not-fucking-cross-me voice.

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