Rock My Heart (Luminescent Juliet #4) by Jean Haus

Author:Jean Haus [Haus, Jean]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Amazon: B00Z1638FW
Published: 2015-06-04T23:00:00+00:00

Chapter 19

~April~

I feel lost, adrift on a sea without a boat, about to drown. Everything is twisting, doing one eighties, changing, and transforming before my eyes and behind my back. I’ve been lying around my apartment since having lunch with Romeo and Riley, more than eight hours ago. I can’t get a handle on anything: not myself, nor the situation with Gabe, and definitely not my education or future. Though I know Dr. Medina didn’t intend to, her comment has me second-guessing everything, especially my capabilities.

The meeting ruined my confidence, not only in what I have learned the last three and a half years, but also in all of my plans for the future. I’m suddenly wondering if I’m a square peg trying to fit in a round hole. Certainly, not everyone ends up in the career best suited for them. Yet if I’m not cut out for counseling, it could hinder people who need help, and that’s the last thing I want to do.

So I’ve been trying to figure out how big the space is between reality and my desire, my need for the career. I’ve laid on my bed or the couch. I stare at the walls or ceiling and think, but I’m having a hard time seeing past my want to reality. I have planned and wanted this career for too long. So long, it has become part of who I am, who I need to be, and I can’t imagine giving it up and walking away.

Somewhere past eight at night, I’m lying on the couch, staring at the ceiling when a knock sounds at the door.

Oh no, that has to be my other problem.

Gabe.

I close my eyes, wishing him away.

The knocking grows louder.

Not wanting to deal with the dilemma, I roll into the couch, smashing my face in a cushion.

“April! Open the door!” he yells, knocking the loudest yet.

I finally get off the couch and go whip open the door.

He grins at me.

His stupid, lovely grin deflates some of my anger and serves as a huge warning sign. I cannot resist this man. Those giddy bubbles that his mere presence produces rise up inside of me, even with the last hours of depression. My response makes me more depressed. Obviously, I’m nowhere near conquering my infatuation.

“I’m sleeping, not feeling well, going back to bed,” I say, shutting the door.

He stops the door with his foot. “You sick?” His eyes are troubled as they roam over my wrinkled shorts and T-shirt.

“No,” I sigh, not being able to lie to him. “Just in the head.”

His head tilts in question.

I lean on the edge of the door. “It’s about school, and I really don’t want to talk about it.”

“Well then,” he says, pushing a bottle of wine into my hands. He picks up the pot that I gave him. “A little dinner and booze might get your mind off of it.” He breezes past me.

I shut the door, none too gently, and follow him to the kitchen. “Did you hear—” I pause both speaking and moving to stare at him.

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