I decided right away that I was going to live at home until I could afford a down payment on a condo. While I work as a barista, I squirrel away money and quietly date a nice Roman Catholic boy named Paul. On paper, it’s not a bad life. But in the giant puzzle that makes my life, a chunk is missing. Sighing to myself, I push inside the grubby diner. In the back corner, I see a baseball-cap covered head with a bubbly blonde gabbing animatedly next to him. My heart rate increases at the sight of his easy smile, the way his whiskey eyes sparkle as he listens to his sister recant some tale of undergraduate glory. Should I be concerned that the guy following directly behind me doesn’t make my heart rate pick up? Not when he appears at my door to take me on a date. Not when I gave him my virginity in my tiny dorm room bed, or when I caught his eye for the first time. I toss a glance over my shoulder and my boyfriend’s lips twitch upward. He makes me happy. Honestly, he does. But he doesn’t complete my puzzle.
What do You think about Pressure Point (Point #2)?
