Sensibility

Chapter 4

"To wish was to hope, and to hope was to expect"

-Jane Austen, Sense and Sensibility

I'm able to escape Carla's uncomfortable hugs and farewells a few minutes later and begin my walk back to the apartment after a full and confusing morning. My mind is still reeling from the conversation with Dr. Jones. I pull out his golden card and stare down at it just as small droplets start to fall from the darkened sky.

How could he have possibly heard about my work at USC? Maybe Carla was more involved with my efforts than I initially thought. She is a kind lady, a little upbeat and self-indulged, but she was always kind to me. I don't remember mentioning my plans to move to D.C. to her either, but I must have said it at some point. I do have a poor habit of carrying on conversations while only giving my company part of my attention. It's an easy way to keep myself guarded from unnerving shots of emotion. It's possible my hard work and dedication has paid off in a way I never intended. My studies had always been an escape more than anything, but somewhere along the way I have enjoyed my time in the lab and in my books. Maybe Carla truly appreciated this and contacted Dr. Jones for me.

But why would Dr. Jones make a trip to see me, on a Sunday no less? Washington D.C. to Los Angeles wasn't a quick flight. It all felt surreal, odd, and fleeting. Was I really deserving of such a gesture? Should I even consider it? Of course I should. This is what I went to college for, dammit. My rogue subconscious starts jumping around like a cavewomen. This college and my obsessive studying is where I found the little happiness I have had in my life. I should be thrilled about this opportunity even if I wasn't comfortable with the jumpy emotion of it all.

My subconscious continues to dance around with wild, tangled hair, telling me that maybe, just maybe, this is a sign. Maybe my future does begin in D.C. and my crazy fantasies of answers in New York are just that, dreams and fantasy. I'm following a soft light to New York, no not even a light, more of a dying candle in a massive crowd of suns. There's no guarantee that I would find answers anyway, and I have spent my life keeping a controlled environment around me. There is no way I would keep it together in New York City.

I flip Dr. Jones' card over and over again in my hands, reading every inch of the small future I could have. Dr. Jones was so unexpected, intimidating, but calming at the same time. I have never been around someone who glowed a deep gray like he did. And his steady sentiment only stirred emotions in myself, real feelings. But it wasn't a crazy roller coaster of feelings that left me feeling insane like it had been with Zayn.

Zayn.

He is still a blank space I feel the need to fill. He must be aware of his stoic presence, just all dark and mysterious. There has to be answers to his emotionless void. I had made a decision to let it go, but the more I picture his chocolate eyes and wide smile, my stomach does flips flops. Stop it! I try to control my insides from taking another amusement ride from the very thought of him. I should just be done with him, and fully commit to Pooch Products. Suddenly, the name makes me smile and I pull at my hair that's becoming damp from the rain. It doesn't corporate, and I end up blinding myself with the mess.

The next thing I know, there's a rush of wind in front of my face, a blast of a car horn, and a splash of water around my legs. I'm stumbling, grabbing at nothingness, and my heart begs to jump out of my chest. This is it. For all my ranting, I'm going to be swallowed up by a passing vehicle like common road kill. Then, a pair of strong arms is pulling me up and into a constricting embrace.

It's the wilderness.

"Nicole," he breaths holding me tightly against his warm, strong, and safe chest. I don't need to look at him. Frankly, I don't want to because I know he chocolate eyes will be waiting. "Are you okay?"