Free So Over You by Gwen Hayes

enough to trigger all the right hormonal responses. Too bad he was only a sophomore. If I was going to break my boyfriend fast this year, he’d be my number one candidate.
    But I wasn’t going to, was I?
    As I pondered the thought across campus and into the newsroom, it occurred to me that this dating nonsense might be poking at the soft, fleshy parts of my heart that I thought I had protected several years ago. My choice to abstain from high school relationships was deliberate and wise. It’s not like my future would include anyone I dated as a teenager, so why go through the messy detour? Better to focus on the road that went directly to my career.
    Then again, boys were sometimes cute. And funny. And nice. Like Micah…
    “You’re deep in thought,” Foster said, though I hadn’t even been aware of his presence in the room. “Are you brainstorming your future Pulitzer? Let me guess— All Men Are Evil by renowned überfeminist Layney Logan.”
    I shucked my bag and jacket. “I’ll be sure to give you credit for the title. Why are there so many folding chairs by the window?”
    Foster snatched the coffee out of my hand. “Excellent. I needed a pick-me-up.” He took the lid off while he continued. “The chairs apparently live in the newsroom now because Ms. Maple said they got some nicer ones from the school that closed. Also, I’ve lost control of the staff. They won’t tell me what tonight’s date is, only that I have to be here when you get your assignment.” He took a swig. “What the hell is this?”
    As he wiped the back of his hand across his lips, I answered, “It’s a mocha.”
    “Since when do you drink that crap?”
    Since never. “I just thought I would try something new. I’m all about stretching my comfort zone now, remember?” Grabbing the cup back from his hands, a little lukewarm java sloshed onto my hand. “There isn’t anything wrong with sweet once in a while, right?”
    His face screwed up into a look of confusion, but then he shrugged. “I guess not.”
    “I mean, I still like regular coffee, but a change from bitterness now and again is okay too, right?” My voice sounded unsure to my own ears.
    “You’re absolutely right, Logan. But I know you—you’ll always go back to regular roast because sweet will bore you.” He scrutinized me carefully. “You like a little bite.”
    “Sweet doesn’t bore me.”
    “Whatever. It’s coffee. It’s not like you have to marry it.”
    I dared another sip, determined to give it a chance. I mean, why couldn’t I like it? Just because I wasn’t used to it didn’t mean it wasn’t good. I love chocolate. I’m obsessed with coffee. The color and foam were visually appealing and it smelled really good. On paper, we were a great match, café mochas and I.
    Yet Foster laughed at my grimace as the cloying liquid went down the hatch.
    I had two choices: persist and make myself miserable or admit that Foster was right. I hated giving him that little bit of satisfaction. What’s worse, the fact that he had a foothold on my psyche appalled me.
    I set the cup down and readied for battle.
    “Ah. There goes the chin,” Foster remarked. “Save the energy, Logan. We really don’t need to pick this one apart. It’s just coffee. If it makes you feel better, tomorrow I’ll try a hazelnut latte or something.”
    Maryanne and Chelsea marched in looking apprehensive. Foster and I exchanged glances. The children were up to something. The silence thickened with tension and the girls nudged each other, hoping one would step up so the other wouldn’t have to.
    “Spill.” The word barreled out of Foster, piercing the silence like a bullet.
    Chelsea cleared her throat and looked at her shoes. “We are going to change things up a little this time and tell Layney who her date is now , when she gets her assignment.”
    “Okay,” I said. That sounded good. Sometimes the not knowing made me edgy. “Who am I interviewing tonight?”
    “Miles