Page 72 of A Heart Worth Finding
Jessica licked her lips.
Boom.
As the first firework lit up the midnight sky, Jack captured Jessica’s mouth with his. And the instant the connection was made, everything else faded away. They could’ve been anywhere in the world, witnessing a split-second, once-in-a-lifetime phenomenon, and Jack would’ve only wanted to be right here.
It was exactly as he’d remembered. Soft but insistent. Slow but heart-racing.
Every minute of the last three and a half years apart had been worth it for this one perfect moment. It had all led to this, this claiming kiss beneath the stars and fireworks.
The dawn of a new year meant shaking off the old and ushering in the new. And Jack supposed that’s exactly what he and Jessica were doing. Because they weren’t those two spring break teenagers anymore. They’d both grown and lived and loved in their time apart.
But this kiss? It was familiar and thrilling. It was a promise, a commitment, a reminder.
This kiss was finally coming home.
NOW: January 8, 2024
On the first dayof her final semester of college, Jessica found herself in her academic advisor’s office. Over the years, Fran, the woman in question, had worn many hats for Jessica. Friend, confidant, mentor, a shoulder to cry on when her course load got to be a little too much the spring semester of her sophomore year.
Today, Fran was donning yet another: career advisor.
The day had come where Jessica needed to start applying for jobs after college, and she had no idea where to even begin.
“So what’re you thinking, kiddo?” Fran asked, pushing her wire-framed glasses back up her nose, an action she would perform no less than twenty times over the next hour. Jessicafrequently told her to get them adjusted so they actually fit, but she refused to listen.
“Well, you know it’s always been my dream to teach English as a second language,” Jessica said. “The problem is, I don’t even know where to start.”
“What do you mean? You have a resumé and letters of recommendation and all that, right?”
“Yes. I don’t mean that stuff. I mean like…finding jobs to actually apply for.”
“Oh!” Fran gasped, waving a hand in the air. “That’s easy.”
She spun to her computer, an absolutely ancient Mac with the processor on the back, half of it that opaque white color, the other half orange, and began clacking away at the keys. Jessica had often asked her why she didn’t upgrade to something sleeker, or more portable, to which Fran would reply, “If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it.”
Hard to argue with that.
“Okay,” Fran said, shoving away from her computer as her equally-ancient printer whirred to life across the room. When it spit out a piece of paper, Fran handed it to Jessica.
“Here are the ones I found with a cursory search in our database that are actively seeking applicants. I think we can eliminate a few right off the bat since you don’t speak Italian or Dutch,” Fran said, pointing to the job postings in question.
While teaching English as a second language meant she’d primarily be conversing with her students in her native language, Jessica had been reminded over and over by her professors—and Fran—that her life would be a lot easier if she could speak the native language in whichever country she found a position in.
As Jessica spoke Spanish and Russian, that rather limited her options. Although, Mexico, South America, and Spain were all options, and Russia itself was a giant country.
Jessica perused the list, though given her lack of experience with this sort of job search, she had no idea what she was looking at. “Do any of these stick out to you?” she asked Fran, handing the paper back.
As Fran studied the list, she chewed absently on the cap of her pen, a habit that always grossed Jessica out.
Fran set the paper down and began circling certain postings and crossing out others. Finally, she handed it back to Jessica.
“I exed out the ones in countries where you don’t speak the language,” she said, and Jessica noted with satisfaction that had only eliminated three of the twenty jobs on the list. “Then I circled the ones that look like the best fit for you.”
Jessica scanned the sheet, her smile growing. There were quite a few postings in South America, one in Spain, one in southern Mexico, and several in Saint Petersburg and Moscow.
She’d always pictured herself as a beachy girl; growing up in the frigid north had always offended her, and on more than one occasion when she was a child, she’d begged her parents to move them somewhere warmer.
Obviously, that hadn’t worked.
