Every letter
that she types;
every keystroke
that she strikes-

To spell your name
again and again,
is all she ever
wants to write.

- Lang Leav

Of course it's Josh. He leans against the front desk of the Post and chats with Alaina, who is clearly charmed by his attractive grin and arresting eyes. In typical Josh style, he wears a pair of ripped jeans, a faded flannel shirt, and a pair of dirty work boots. Combined with his lazy stance, untrimmed beard and long dark hair, and ever-present smile, he sticks out like a sore thumb in the Post's professional office.

"Hey, delivery boy," I call out.

Josh sees me and his face lights up. "Rach! There you are. I was worried I was at the wrong ewspaper."

I walk up to him but shake my head when he goes in for a hug. I can almost hear the gossip spreading. "What are you doing here?"

He grins at me. "No one should have to eat lunch alone, and you bought last time. How do you feel about burritos?" A smile spreads across my face, and I don't care who sees it.
Josh shows me a bag from Chipotle and my mouth waters. I could definitely go for a burrito right now, especially if there's extra cheese. "That sounds awesome. Give me ten minutes and I'll meet you outside?

"Sounds good."

I race back to my desk and finish the last line for the first of my three articles for the day. I was planning on having a working lunch and eating mushy microwaved pasta I cooked last night, but I don't care how late I have to work to make up for it, I'm taking my lunch break. I can't fight the smile on my face--it may be something as stupid as eating burritos outside of work, but it makes me happy.

"Where's your food?" Quentin asks when I return.

"Waiting for me outside." I flash him my most winning smile. "See you after lunch!"

As I leave work with Josh at my side and walk into the sunshine, I fight the desire to never come back. I feel way too much relief when I walk out of these doors. I take a deep breath and feel like I can finally breathe.

"Josh, thank you. You're my hero; this is amazing."

We find a spot on a picnic bench and Josh passes me my burrito. God bless him, he got us each our own so we didn't have to share. He knows me so well.

"What's going on at work? You look stressed."
I rub the wrinkle between my eyebrows self consciously. "I am. It's just--they keep expecting me to write these poignant, meaningful articles on topics that are just stupid. Who freaking cares about axe throwing contests or snail poop moisturizers?"

Josh's eyebrows raise. "Actually, I kinda want to know what you're talking about now."

"Seriously though, they're stupid. All of my articles. I don't know what they want from me! I'm not Jesus. I can't turn water--or in this case, poop--into wine." I take a vicious bite out of my burrito and try to let the delicious taste of cilantro drown out my frustrations.

Josh doesn't say anything as I devour the rest of my food, pausing only to continue my rant. "What if I actually suck at this? So far I've only written one article--one--that our Editor in Chief actually praised."

"Well, it has to be hard to write about topics you don't care about."

"Exactly! It is! But what am I supposed to do?" I turn to Josh.

I don't really expect him to have answers, but it feels so good to actually talk about this. I can't say anything at home for fear of Chloe hearing me, so this is the first time I've told anyone how I feel about work.

"It sounds like it's more than just the articles that are bothering you."

I wince as I think about the rumors and animosity among my coworkers, and I wonder if I can tell Josh about the whole Quentin situation. "I don't really get along with the people I work with."

"Why not? You usually get along with everyone."

I realize he's right; I've never really had enemies before. I don't have trouble making and keeping friends, and I've rarely had anyone hate me the way Quentin does. The Post is different.

"I, uh, I went out with one of my coworkers. Once." I hold up one finger, my face heating. "One date."

Josh's face darkens, but he asks, "And?"

"And, well, I thought it was just a date, but he thought it was..." My face turns a darker red. "A hook-up, I guess. Which it wasn't. At all. But he was upset when I, uh, didn't want that, so he told everyone in the office crap about me and now no one talks to me."
I can't hold Josh's gaze anymore and my eyes drop to the empty foil wrapper in my lap. I don't tell him exactly what those rumors include; they make feel dirty even though I haven't done anything Quentin claimed. Shame swallows me despite my innocence. I feel like such an idiot for even agreeing to go on the date with him in the first place. Per usual, I was too trusting and got myself into an awful situation.

"Are you serious?"
I recognize the steely tone in Josh's voice. He's one of the most protective people I know, and when I look up at him and the squint of his eyes, I know he wants to storm into the Post and pulverize Quentin for how he treated me. Part of me considers letting him.

"I probably shouldn't have gone on the date in the first place-"

"Rach, stop. Don't blame yourself. He's a douchebag. I'm sorry. That's awful."

Josh's words reassure me--he's right. Quentin was a jerk, and he took it even farther by nursing his injured pride and telling lies to the entire office. I didn't deserve that, but it still happened. I look at the Post's building and fight the wave of nausea in my stomach. I do not want to go back in there.

"Thanks, Josh. I should probably get back to work."

The dread builds. I'm sure Quentin spent his entire lunch break telling everyone about the guy who showed up at the front desk looking for me.

"Wait, Rach, just a second." Josh reaches for my hand as I go to rise and pulls me back to the bench. "Listen, I told you I'd be here for you, and I will. I'll be back on this bench on Thursday at noon and I'll bring lunch, no matter what you say."

"No matter what I-"

"But I want to do things right. Rach, let me take you out tomorrow night. On a date."

He smiles at me, and I lose track of my thoughts for a moment. When Josh smiles, he goes from cute to devastatingly handsome, the kind of handsome that makes my insides turn to Jello.

A date. A real date. Even though Josh and I were together for months, we only went on a handful of dates; we jumped headfirst from friendship into love but never really navigated what romance was supposed to look like. Now Josh is trying to show his dedication by taking the right steps in the right order. He's taking the lead and being intentional, and it's kind of hot.

"So? What do you say?"

As enticing as the idea of a date is, however, it also comes with implications I'm not sure I'm ready to face. A date leads to a relationship, and I still haven't decided if I can let myself have a future with Josh. I still don't know if I can trust him.

"I...I can't. Not yet."

Josh nods, his dark eyebrows furrowed. "Then I'll still be here on Thursday for lunch, and I'll keep coming back, Rach. I'll be here for you, no matter what happens."

Sure enough, Josh keeps his promise. For the next two weeks, Josh brings lunch every Tuesday and Thursday and we eat outside on the park bench. Those lunches become the highlight of my day, a distraction and escape from suffocating hours spent at work. I've been getting by under the radar at the Post, submitting work that I hate but which seems to meet Halle's criteria. I feel like I'm selling my soul for a paycheck, and at the same time, living on borrowed time. Pretty soon, Mr. Fitzpatrick's going to figure out that I'm a sham and send me packing. The stress is killing me.

Josh is the one light on those awful days. Every few days, Josh asks me out again and even though I have yet to say yes, my resolve is weakening. There's a constancy, a substance to him that I don't remember from when we were younger. Even when it rains, Josh is still on the picnic bench, holding an umbrella and smiling. He's wearing me down and silently showing me that he's going to keep his promise to stay by me.

I'm shocked when an uncharacteristically angry Ellie shows up at our apartment door on a Saturday afternoon. "Ellie? What's going on?"

She plants her hands on her hips. "Can I talk to you?"
"Uh, yeah, sure. Want to go to Totaltea again?"

"Yeah. I'll wait here."

The ride to Totaltea is filled with tense silence rather than Ellie's typical effusive chatter and I try to imagine why she found it necessary to show up on my door and demand a confrontation. I'm sure it has to do with Josh because I can't imagine how I could have offended her directly.

We order our drinks and settle onto either ends of a comfy couch. Ellie's face is puckered with gravity and she squeezes her paper cup tightly.

"Ellie, does Josh know you're here?"

"No. I came on my own."

"What's going on?" I ask. I hate seeing the girl distraught; she has enough pain in her life and I don't want to add to it.

"I want to talk to you about Josh."

I bite back a sigh. Everyone seems to have an opinion on what the two of us should do while we're the only ones who really know what's going on. Still, Ellie is Josh's sister, and she's entitled to her opinion.

"Okay."

"I know...I know he hurt you. I mean, I don't really know. He doesn't tell me about his feelings and stuff because he's Josh." I try not to laugh; she knows him well. Getting him to talk about his feelings is like pulling nails, which makes it all the more extraordinary that he told me how he's feeling now. "But he's been asking you out for three weeks, and you still haven't given him a solid answer."

I wince--her accusation rings true. I've been stuck in indecision; I know that once I say yes to a date, to moving beyond the strange pseudo-friendship we've developed, I'll be committed to Josh and me. I'll be vulnerable again.

"I just...I don't think it's fair. If you're going to reject him, then just do it. He's so dedicated to this whole thing you guys have it's crazy."

"Ellie, it's a little more complicated than that. There's a lot I have to think about--"

"It's not that complicated," she exclaims. "You either want him or you don't."

I close my eyes briefly. Of course I want him, but I still don't know if I can trust him. "That's not the issue."

"Then what is?" she implores.

I sigh--how much do I tell her? I can't taint her love of her brother with his past mistakes, but I also can't let her blame me for my reticence to trust.

"Ellie, four years ago, Josh broke my heart and betrayed my trust, and it's really hard for me to give it back to him."

"Your heart or your trust?"

I shrug. At this point, they go together. "Both."

Ellie sighs, leaning her head back. "This all sounds like a lot of drama, if you ask me, but I want Josh to be happy, and you make him happy."

I can't help but smile. That's all I ever wanted.

"I get that you don't know if you can trust him, but this is Josh we're talking about. He's changed a lot since you last knew him. I know you weren't around, but I was, and he's not like he was when you knew him. He's changed."

"Do you really think so?" I ask breathlessly, desperate and eager to put my doubt behind me.

Ellie nods. "I know so. When Dad...when they got divorced, Josh was the one who stepped up to take care of me and Mom. He had a few tough years, but then he pulled himself together and he saved our family. Mom was depressed and I was lonely and Josh was there for us. I know he was a little immature in college," Ellie says with wisdom far beyond her age, "but he grew up. A lot. I think you can see the difference too, you're just too scared to admit it."

~~~~~

Do you think Ellie's right? Has Josh changed? And what's your favorite hot drink?