Page 4

New Job Isn’t on the Menu

I stare at the menu as I try to figure out what I want to order. Since “New Job” doesn't appear to be on the menu, I settle for two eggs, bacon, and toast. We both opt for a cup of coffee along with a glass of orange juice, too, and Miller asks the waitress if they have Cholula.

I giggle. “You still put hot sauce on everything?”

He nods. “On everything. Not Tabasco. It has to be Cholula.”

I narrow my eyes at him. “New life goal unlocked. Get Miller Banks hooked on a new hot sauce.”

“Pfft,” he scoffs. “Like that’ll ever happen.”

We settle into easy conversation as our coffee is delivered to our table, and I’m debating whether to bring up the promise we made at the beginning of our sophomore year of high school or not.

For some reason, I woke up thinking about that promise, but I feel like it was just something fifteen-year-olds say, not something they really intend to act upon.

“Does Tanner still not drink coffee?” I ask instead of the real question on my mind .

It's funny how Miller and I have always been so close, and while Tanner and I were always friendly, we never made that same connection.

There's a pretty good difference between the brothers. I love both of them dearly, but Tanner was always a little more on the wild side than his brother. He was the one who went crazy at parties, doing the things he shouldn't, while Miller was the more responsible one who drove us home.

I would see Tanner making out with different girls in the corner at every party, breaking hearts all over Phoenix, while Miller was always a little more dependable and responsible.

“Yeah,” he says. “He's on a pretty strict diet, and I should be too, but it's the offseason.” He gives me a wide smile, and it's that smile that always causes my chest to flutter just a little bit.

Has he always been this cute?

I've never looked at Miller as anything more than a friend because it felt like he never was looking at me that way.

Plus, our timing just never seemed to work out.

I wanted to ask him to homecoming, but I was too nervous.

Then Bryce asked me, and the rest was history.

Somehow, we slipped into an easy friendship that neither of us ever wanted to ruin with anything more than that, and now I genuinely can't imagine my life without Miller as my best friend.

“What are you thinking?” he asks.

I lift a shoulder. “To be perfectly honest, I have no idea. I’m about to lose my job based on what my department chair told me and…” I trail off.

“And what?”

“I don't know where I go from here. If I'm getting fired because I told minors to buy an erotic romance novel with explicit sex scenes and admitted my name in a single post…how do you come back from that?”

I won't get a job anywhere because this will be on my record.

An English teacher telling students to read a book with sex in it?

I never would've thought to say anything about it to my students at all.

They don't even know I've published books. Or, they didn’t, anyway.

And neither do my parents. I love my family dearly, but they are much more conservative than I turned out to be.

Besides, it’s kind of embarrassing to admit to your mom and dad that you write explicit sex, no matter how proud you are of the product you produce. We never talk about sex in my family, and it’s always felt like a taboo subject. Maybe that’s why I write about it instead.

But now they'll know. Everyone in the conservative community in which I grew up will know.

I teach at the high school I graduated from, and my colleagues are my former teachers.

Nobody around here will understand, and anytime I even have a conversation with a colleague about what I like to read in my spare time, I get the same sort of reactions I got from Tyler.

Miller's eyes light up before I answer his question. He's the only person I've really confessed any of this to. He's the only one who knows my pen name. Tyler never supported my writing, but Miller always has. I think he's even bought a couple of my books.

“I can tell you're thinking something, so just come on out with it,” I say, pursing my lips and raising a brow as I fold my arms across my chest.

He shrugs innocently, but then he says, “What if this is the push you needed to do this dream of yours full-time?”

I sink back into the booth. On one hand, it's not like I haven't wanted to make writing my full-time job for years.

On the other hand, it always just felt way too far out of reach.

Turning hobbies into careers doesn't always pan out.

The last thing I want is to develop negative feelings toward one of the things I love doing most in the world because it becomes my sole way of earning money to support myself.

But on the other hand, maybe he's right. Maybe this is exactly what I need to push me out of my comfort zone and take the risk by doing the damn thing.

I chew on the inside of my cheek as I think it over. “Where will I live? My royalties have been nice bonus money in addition to my teaching salary, but I don’t think it’s enough to pay rent.”

“Look, Sophie. I've read your books. You have what it takes to be successful. Your words are as incredible as you are, and you deserve the chance to make this happen.” His blue eyes are warm and sincere across the table.

My jaw slackens as his words register. “You've read my books?”

“Every single one of them.”

I gasp. A long silence fills the space between us, and then I ask, “Which is your favorite?”

He chuckles. “ Second Chances was pretty good, but I think Married to the Enemy was my favorite. That tension when they got married but you knew they both wanted it to be real was next level.” He's talking about my fourth book, still one of my best sellers to this day.

“I mean it. I know anybody can publish a book these days, but not everybody has the talent you have. I believe in you, and I want to see what you can do with giving this a shot full-time.”

“The problem is that it takes more than just writing a book to get people to buy it. There's a marketing side of it, and having been in the classroom full-time since I started publishing, it's difficult to find enough hours to get everything done.” I don’t even know where to start, if I’m being honest.

“So hire an assistant,” he suggests.

“With what money?” I ask .

His eyes light up some more, and to be honest, I'm a little fearful of what he's thinking.

“Come live with me. Come to San Diego. Quit your job before they force you into an investigation you don’t want. Blow this town and use this as your moment to give your dream a try.”

“I can't do that, Miller,” I protest. “I won't have an income.”

“I have plenty for both of us,” he says, and his voice is low and incredibly convincing.

He’s not bragging about the amount of money he has but rather seems to be telling me he has enough to support the two of us, as if he wants to share it with me.

“Stay with me and let me invest in my favorite author.”

My chest tightens and my heart squeezes as this overwhelming feeling of gratitude washes over me. “I can't do that,” I protest.

For a split second, I wonder why exactly I'm protesting. What do I have to lose by giving this a try? I don't want to mooch off my best friend, but he's offering my dreams on a platter, and that is a difficult deal to resist. I'm not sure it makes any sense at all to say no.

“I want this for you, Sophie. Let me do this for you. I will lend you what you need to get it off the ground.”

I think quickly. I was splitting rent with Tyler for the last year and a half, so I saved a bit between my teaching job and my royalties. I have probably six months or so worth of expenses saved, so I can get by for now.

Maybe this isn't such a bad idea. Maybe getting out of this town for a little while is exactly what I need.

Before I get a chance to answer, the waitress comes by with our food. Neither of us picks up our forks to start eating despite the rumbling in my stomach. I feel hopeful and excited and a little less sad for the first time since I told Tyler I was done last night .

And I also see the hope and excitement in Miller's eyes.

He's in a new city, though he's been there for nearly a year at this point. But I know how important it is to him to be surrounded by people he trusts. He's had a rough year and a half between finding out the man who raised him isn’t his biological father and then losing his biological father before he had the chance to really get to know him. He found out his parents had been lying to him his entire life. And then he left the team he’d been playing for his entire career and moved to a completely new city.

Only his twin brother has been with him through it all.

So part of this feels like a new beginning for both of us. To live with my best friend for a bit after a bad breakup doesn't really sound so bad.

I pick up my phone before I give him an answer, and I dial Elizabeth.

“Sophie?” she answers. “I haven’t heard anything yet.”

“I know. I’m calling because I want to resign.

” I blurt the words and realize my hands are shaking.

“The investigation is only going to waste everyone’s time, and it’s going to come out that I am, in fact, publishing romance books under a pen name.

So let’s save everyone the time and just call it what it is. ”

“Oh, Sophie. I don’t want to lose you as a teacher in our department. Are you sure about this?”

I’m not. This feels like a split-second decision over breakfast with my best friend, but as my eyes edge over to his, I suddenly feel certain that this is the right choice for me. Something about the way he’s looking at me is convincing enough to push me to take this risk.

I draw in a deep breath, and I nod. “I’m sure.”

She’s quiet for a few seconds, and then she sighs. “Okay, then. Email me your official letter of resignation as soon as you can. ”

“Thank you for everything.” We hang up, and I look at Miller again. “Let’s do this damn thing.”

“Yeah?” he asks, his eyes still all lit up and bright blue as they crinkle at the corners with excitement.

“Yeah,” I confirm. And then we toast with our orange juice glasses and celebrate with our breakfasts.