Page 11 of (La)Crosse My Heart

Jessa

Why is my face still burning after I’ve been away from Clark for the last fifteen minutes? Working with someone you’ve known in the past is not for the faint of heart, especially when he’s so blunt.

I’m surprised he even remembered about Dan, my ex-boyfriend. What’s sad is that I’d been with the guy for nine years. Had there been any progress? No, we’d been stagnant for the last five.

I’ve wondered over the last six months why I’d never left. It was comfortable and it meant I didn’t have to change a lot. It was easier.

Until it wasn’t.

When I had to spend all the time planning dates and trips while he spent time “honing his craft”, i.e. playing golfing games on his Xbox, I realized it was time to move on. And starting fresh meant getting away from the comfortable and taking a leap so big, I still get butterflies from it.

I get into my car and plug in the address to the rental house in my GPS, knowing I’ve still got a few more times of driving the route before I’ll understand how to navigate this city. The gal at the gas station tried to tell me about the grid system and how I just needed to go so many streets north or south to get where I had to go. That’s a lot of calculations for this gal while I’m trying not to get run over by the crazy drivers here in Utah.

I breathe a sigh of relief when I’m off the freeway and then even more when I turn onto the road to the house. Hopefully, I can get used to this place, because I refuse to give up on making sure my life is lived fully.

Do I have food for dinner? Probably not anything I haven’t unpacked, which means it’s only small snacks. I should’ve thought of making a grocery run before getting to my house.

Maybe I’ll splurge on food delivery this one time.

I park in the driveway and get out of the car. I’ve got my satchel full of things in the back seat, along with my refillable water bottle and a pair of sneakers. Heels have never been my strength, so I pack comfy shoes for when I need some serious relief.

It’s when I close my car door that I see something out of the corner of my eyes.

I turn to look at the house across the street, one that’s got several cars out front and a faded-yellow paint.

Getting out of a car is Clark Denton.

“Did you follow me?” I ask, allowing my frustration to bubble over. So much for being calm and collected.

Clark turns and sees me. His look of confusion turns into a broad grin in a matter of seconds.

“I didn’t follow you. This is where I live,” he says, walking over to stand on the curb across from me.

I close my eyes and groan. “You’ve got to be kidding me. Of all the places they could’ve sent me, they have me living acrossthe street from you? I thought I got enough of that growing up,” I say, wondering if it’s too late to negotiate my living situation.

“Well, at least you won’t have to go far for that clothing consultation. You can even come over for breakfast beforehand. How do you like your eggs?”

“I’ll be fine for breakfast, thank you. Why are there four cars in your driveway?”

He chuckles and says, “Roommates, Jessa.”

I don’t know why Clark having roommates is suddenly so funny, but I let out a laugh that’s hard to control.

“What’s wrong with splitting the bill?” he says.

“I just never took you for someone who loved people in your space.”

He nods and breathes out. “It was a change at first, but it was either have roommates or live in an apartment with cockroaches.”

I shiver at the thought of that. “You’re right. I should’ve thought of that first.”

He points to the light-green house behind me. “Are you sharing with anyone?”

Why does that question feel so intimate all of a sudden?

“No, I’ve got this place to myself.”

“Do you have any furniture? I haven’t seen a moving truck pull up.”

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