What a Girl Wants

Determined not to fail, Travis spent all his free time memorizing his reports. The less he had to rely on the Teleprompter, the better. His nerves still got the best of him now and again. He fumbled through the end of Friday’s five o’clock report. It wasn’t a complete disaster, but still not good enough. He resolved to hide in his car and practice during the break until it was flawless.

He was surprised to find Rachel waiting for him by his desk when he stopped to grab his keys. “Great job at five, Travis. You’re really going to be a big draw.” She put her hand on his arm and not so subtly squeezed his biceps. She must have liked what she felt because she let out an appreciative hum. “You’ve been an excellent addition to the team.”

Travis took a step back. He was far from excellent. He wasn’t even good yet. Over Rachel’s shoulder, he spotted Summer on her way to the elevators. She looked at him, then Rachel, before averting her eyes and ducking her head. She pushed the button on the wall and stared at the little arrows above the doors. As unpleasant as an elevator ride with the Weather Girl seemed, it was definitely the lesser of two evils at this point.

Smiling graciously, Travis thanked Rachel and attempted to escape. She stepped in his way. “Did you bring dinner or would you like to join me for something to eat?”

“That’s sweet of you, but—” he started.

“Great!” Rachel slipped her arm under his. “I know this lovely place close by. The owners are big fans of mine. We’ll be treated like royalty.” She winked and led him to her desk to get her purse as Summer disappeared into the elevator alone.

Intercepted.

Thanks to Rachel’s love of attention, their dinner took forever. She posed for pictures with other diners and made Travis sign autographs. In the end, they didn’t get back to the station until it was nearly time to go on the air. Travis spent a few minutes hiding in the bathroom, practicing his report. It certainly wasn’t going to be flawless. He’d be lucky if it lived up to his mediocre performance at five.

When he went to drop his notes on his desk before heading into the studio, Brian and Summer were standing nearby. “Come out for a couple drinks, Summer. It won’t kill you,” he heard Brian say.

Brian Sanchez was a decent guy and a likable anchorman. He had one of those faces that made you trust everything he had to say. So far, he hadn’t given Travis any reason to believe that wasn’t the case. Brian was also the unofficial social director at the station. He organized poker games and managed the station’s softball team. He planned office picnics and Christmas parties. Tonight, he’d invited people out for drinks after work. Rachel had mentioned it at dinner—multiple times.

Instead of accepting his offer, Summer cleared her throat. “Did you know that the average snowflake is made up of 180 billion molecules of water?” she asked.

Travis shook his head at her response. Did she have any idea how lucky she was that her nerves didn’t affect her work? He stood up as Brian continued to press. “Do not try to freak me out with your weather facts. You’re coming with us. No backing out.” Spotting Travis, he pulled him into the conversation. “You’re coming, right Travis?”

Travis held up his hands. “Don’t use me as bait. If she hears I’m coming, she won’t show for sure.”

“Your presence has no effect on my decision to go or not,” Summer quickly retorted.

“There you have it!” Brian smacked Travis on the back. “It’s settled. You’re both coming.” He smiled as he took off to catch one of the writers who needed some harassing about going out, as well.

Summer looked less than thrilled at the prospect of drinks with her coworkers. “You don’t have to go,” Travis said, trying to give her an out.

“Maybe I want to go,” she replied stubbornly.

“Then you should go.”

“Maybe I will.”

“Great.”

“Great.”

“I guess I’ll see you there.”

“I guess so.” Summer’s shoulder brushed against his arm as she slipped past him. As refreshing as her disinterest was, Travis was beginning to think it wouldn’t be so bad if she could at least tolerate him.

The ten o’clock newscast didn’t improve his mood. Travis’s segment was passable at best. Ken was going to fire him if he didn’t find a way to loosen up. Even though the Rangers looked as though they were headed for their third championship in the American League, rattling off baseball stats just wasn’t his thing. He sat at his desk, wondering if being a football player was all he was ever going to be good at.

“Who’s ready to celebrate Travis’s first full week?” Rachel said from behind him. Travis turned around to find not only Rachel, but also Brian and a few of the guys from the control room ready to go. The writers and the evening producer were standing by the elevators with two of the women from marketing who’d finished work hours ago.

The large group headed down the street to a small bar with a pool table and good country music. As expected, the conversations centered on Travis, football or a combination of both. He found himself regurgitating the same stories he’d been telling all week long. Most wanted to know about Miami and what it was like to play in certain stadiums. Some wanted to talk about winning the Big 12 Championship game against Nebraska. Others focused on the high-school teams and what Travis thought of them. Rachel was clingy and her perfume made his nose itch.

The only decent conversation he had all night was with Summer, of all people. He overheard her telling one of the production assistants about some hurricane activity in the Caribbean and he joined in, sharing his storm experiences last year in Miami. Unfortunately, other people didn’t find weather as interesting as he and Summer did, and it wasn’t long before the focus shifted to Travis and football. Like it always did. No matter how hard he tried to not let it. As soon as that happened, Summer disappeared.

He found her talking to a young man in a black cowboy hat a little while later. His jeans and flannel shirt were a dead giveaway that he didn’t work for the station. Unfortunately, he had a nephew who played for the local high school, and he wanted to know what Travis thought about the competition in 4A. Summer moved on pretty quickly.

Travis ordered one more drink from the bartender, who was quick to admit he had been a big Travis Lockwood fan. The old man kindly offered up his condolences regarding the shoulder injury. The pity was always hard to swallow. Travis could see it in people’s eyes before it even came out of their mouths. Everyone was sorry his dream hadn’t been fully realized. Sometimes Travis wanted to ask them how they knew what his dreams were. Maybe football had nothing to do with his dreams.

After enduring one more conversation about UT’s prospects for a championship, Travis decided to call it a night. He slipped out, only to find the Weather Girl standing outside the door, digging through her enormous red bag.

“Here I’ve been waiting all evening to find out what the Babylonians had genetically that we don’t and you’re out here trying to sneak away without saying good-night,” he said.

“Good night, Travis.” She pulled her keys out and held them up, victorious.

“You hate me so much you won’t even tell me, huh?”

Summer exhaled loudly. “I don’t hate you. My grandma taught me hating someone is nothing but a big waste of time. Time that could be spent planting a garden or cleaning my room.”

“I think your grandma was trying to get you to do your chores.”

One side of her mouth quirked up as she headed for the parking lot. “Probably. She’s tricky like that.”

Travis followed. “You’re killing me here. Why won’t you tell me?”

“What do you want from me, exactly?”

Travis sighed and decided to be totally honest with her. “Someone to talk to who doesn’t want to rehash every play I ever made on the football field. Someone who won’t sit across from me hoping I’m going to take her home or kiss her good-night.”

“Don’t ever try to kiss me.” The fierceness in her voice left no room for doubt. “That will get you a slap across the face, mister.”

He held his hands up in surrender. “No kissing. Yes, ma’am. But I really do want to know about the Babylonians.”

She clicked the button to unlock her car and pulled the door open. “I think the Babylonians could feel the rain coming like I do. My dad told me once that humans probably evolved so that we didn’t need to be that sensitive to certain things. We had better shelter, tracked seasons formally, developed tools like barometers and Doppler radar. We didn’t need to feel it anymore. Maybe I’m the last of the supersensitive humans.”

When she talked about the weather, she came to life. There was something about the look in her eye when she shared that kind of information. It was a spark that flashed inside her, a light that he wanted to make brighter. “I think I get it. I might need you to be my date to the next Rotary meeting to explain it to them, though.”

Summer flushed. “Did you know that we’ve been experiencing above-average temps for the last forty days in a row?”

“It’s definitely hot around here. Not as hot as that place in Libya you were talking about, but still very hot.”

She stared at him for a minute and he worried he hadn’t gotten the country right. He could have sworn she said Libya.

Climbing into her car, she gave him one more curious look. “Good night, Travis.”

“Good night, Summer.” He watched her drive away. She didn’t hate him. She didn’t like him, either, but maybe she was coming close to tolerating him.

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