I'm So Into You

Tables Turned

The steering wheel glided gently under Brett's hands as she guided the car onto the exits that led her and Josiah back towards Manhattan. As she glanced over her shoulder to merge onto an exit, she caught Josiah's gaze, firmly fixed on her. When she turned back, he was looking out the window, grinning a little bit. Brett swallowed hard, wondering how she looked to him, what he saw when he took her in. How almost backwards it felt to have this person everyone was looking at, look at her.

"Okay, it's my turn for questions now," Josiah said a little too gleefully.

Brett wondered what on earth he could have to ask her that was the cause of such glee to him and she was dreading it already. She became a journalist because she liked being the one in control, being the one that asked the questions. She liked revealing information when and how she wanted to. Josiah rubbed his hands together and Brett groaned, jokingly covering her eyes with one hand.

"Wait, did you say 'questions'? With an 's' at the end?" Brett asked, pursing her lips and squinting, faking deep concentration. "I thought we agreed one for every two."

"Uh two and follow-ups. Follow-ups count," Josiah said, a false firmness in his voice that made Brett smile. In the kind of journalism she did, there wasn't really much room to get to know her subjects like this. It was mostly cocktails at dimly-lit Capitol Hill bars after a long day of following them through the halls of Congress. She was usually hoping she could be professional enough so they trusted her and just casual enough they might let a little something slip that would point her in the direction of her next big story.

"Okay," Josiah started. "We're getting to the relationship portion of my questions. I feel like it would help me feel comfortable if you could start of by sharing a little about yourself in that department."

Brett felt a nervous flush start to spread in her cheeks, but steeled her gaze on the road ahead and slowed her breathing to calm her body the fuck down. And it worked. Years of trying not to let sources know when she was rattled or getting excited about the line of questioning had given her incredible body awareness and control.

"Oh, I see," Brett grinned big, turning to Josiah. "This is to make you feel more comfortable. So you can give me better answers."

"Exactly!" Josiah exclaimed, throwing his arms up, like he was so relieved she finally got it. "Me getting to pry is actually helping you. Selfless, ain't I?"

They both laughed.

"Okay," he started, rubbing his hand over his close-cropped fade like he was nervous to ask. "Are you dating anyone currently and if not, when was your last relationship?" Josiah was looking down at the paper like he was reading off of it, but Brett knew that wasn't a question on the page. Why couldn't he meet her eyes?

"I'm not," she said breezily. If he knew how much her stomach was flopping while she had this detached and nonchalant smile on her face, she'd lose the professional charade she had going —  and potential he sacrifice the integrity of the article. There was an art to making sure you revealed enough information to make your subject open up to you without disclosing so much that it created actual intimacy. That would make it too personal and too hard to ask the tough questions.

"The last time I was seriously dating someone just under...nine months ago. Since I know you're going to ask: it ended fine, she just couldn't deal with all of the attention from dating someone who's visible in the media, you know?"

Josiah nodded. He knew.

"It's a lot to ask of someone, so I get it. And, yes, we are still friends. It's so unfair because I'm bi, but somehow those classic lesbian cliches stick to me like glue," Brett shook her head gentle and she let out an easy laugh as she pulled right, into the next lane.

"It's like, you know it's a lot to ask and you can't take it personally if people aren't up to it, right? But at the same time doesn't it feel just a tiny bit personal? Obviously people never really know what they're getting into until they're in it...but doesn't a little part of you wonder why staying wasn't worth it?" Josiah asked, feeling that ache in his stomach. How did these thoughts, swirling in his head for the last 6 months since Eve had walked out the door, just jump out of his mouth after two days with Brett?

"Listen – I definitely have. And I have the therapy bills to prove it," Brett said. "At the end of the day, there's no way to get inside someone else's head. Honestly, so many people don't even know what it would take for them to stay, you know? I think sometimes it's a scapegoat — it's easier to say 'it's too hard being on The Shade Room again' instead of 'I have commitment issues' or 'nothing you can do can fill the deep void inside me'. So, I've given up on trying to figure out how I can be the perfect partner to an individual person and instead I'm focusing on what kind of relationship I want and who I want to be in that relationship."

Just as Josiah was starting to feel like the least emotionally evolved person on planet earth, Brett added, "But sometimes at night, when it's lonely, it's a little too easy to sit in those abandonment feelings and wonder why the fuck I'm soooo unlovable. Yeah. I feel you."

Josiah smiled at her and reached over to ruffle her hair, gently, with his big, big hand. "Brett Winter and Josiah Smythe: undateable," he said and they both laughed.

"So how do you want to feel in a relationship?" Josiah asked, still smiling and hoping the easiness in his voice would make her forget that he was going over his allotted questions.

"So there's a long, legitimate answer to this but I'm going to make it easy on myself so we can get back to the questions I have for you," Brett said slyly and accusingly. She knew what he was doing, but she did also kind of love this answer.

"Hey Siri, play "Into You" by Fabolous and Tamia," Brett commanded.

Josiah's jaw dropped.

"No way. No fucking way," he gasped as the navigation system informed Brett she would arrive at her destination, his apartment, in 100 feet.

"I know this is going to sound creepy, but I promise my intentions are PURE — you have to come up to my apartment. I have to show you something."

"Okay," Brett agreed breezily. This day was already wild enough, why not just casually let one of the biggest stars in the NBA invite her up to his place?