Page 92 of Rule 4: Never Get Stranded with a Sports Reporter

Jason did.

And he spent the rest of our time together saving me too.

We experienced something most people never experience. Of course, we were going to bond. Maybe I wouldn’t have had sex with anyone who happened to be stranded on that island with me, but those were Jason’s wounds.

We were together for five days.

I shouldn’t miss him.

But I sure as hell do.

Unfortunately, there’s no future between us. Jason isn’t out. I knew that when we kissed. I couldn’t keep my hands off him anyway.

Do I truly want to message him, then desperately recheck my phone until he shoots back some polite message?

No. Of course not.

I don’t want him to worry how he can let me down easily. I don’t want to be a burden to him. No. No way.

I sigh and set my phone down.

The TV continues to hum.

I don’t think there’s any rule between sports journalists and athletes fraternizing, but that’s probably because no one thought it could be an issue.

I’m a professional.

I’m an adult.

But even though I remind myself of these things, the pain doesn’t disappear. I don’t think I want it to. Because forgetting Jason Larvik, that’s the one thing that would be absolutely terrible.

I fling myself on the couch and let my eyelids flutter down. Then I think about Jason Larvik, and a smile spreads over my face.

Dream guy Jason is knocking coconuts from the tree.

Dream guy Jason is exclaiming because he collected water for us.

And dream guy Jason is pulling my arms around him as if the only way he can sleep is if he is tucked right there.

My smile widens, then it halts.

God, I miss him.

I’m not supposed to be with an NHL star. I’m an overweight journalist making less than a tenth of his salary.

And yet...

When the camera flickers on him and he looks uncertain, all I want to do is pull him into my arms and tell him everything is going to be fine.

Jason isn’t going to ask for me.

Which, unfortunately, means that if I want this to continue, I’m going to have to have an honest conversation with him.

I could visit him.

I calculate how long it will probably take for him to leave the arena, how long it will take for him to get back to his apartment.

I walk from the North End to Seaport. The old-fashioned cobblestones turn into newly created ones. The icy wind is every bit as terrible as Tessa said, and I nearly turn back four times. Finally, I enter Jason’s glam apartment building.