TEN Sebastian #3
“So. The NWS, huh?” I ask, hoping that everything we’ve been through today has distracted her from my reaction earlier to hearing the news from Ernie.
Or, if she did notice the change in my behavior, she’s forgotten about it by now.
We’ve lived a hundred lives since then. It’s probably the last thing on her mind. “That’s new.”
“Making videos is great, but I want to do more. Taking people into the action is where I’m going to make the biggest difference.
I don’t care about followers or numbers or anything like that.
It sounds so cheesy, but I want to … inspire, I guess, the next generation of weather lovers.
Especially young girls. I remember growing up and watching my local meteorologist every night.
She was so passionate about what she talked about, and it made me want to be passionate about it too.
I’m learning I’m happiest when I’m in the thick of the storms. It makes me wonder if there’s a better way I could …
” Quincy trails off, the sentence unfinished.
Whatever she isn’t saying is a secret for her, and I don’t push it. “Sorry. I’m rambling.”
Listening to her is making it obvious why she wants to pivot and try something new. She thinks she needs to work harder to have a bigger purpose. As if what she’s doing isn’t enough, when that’s the furthest thing from the truth.
“You’re not,” I say. “I get it. I have the easiest job in the world. Thousands of people in our field would kill to go on-air for an hour a day and make a seven-figure salary. But lately, I’ve been wondering what good is all that shit if you’re miserable?”
“Wait.” Her face softens. She moves her plate out of the way, leaning closer. “Are you miserable?”
“Not miserable. Just … burned-out. Stuck.” It slips out before I can stop it, and I wince. “I love what I do, but I don’t like what I do. Not right now, at least. Does that make sense?”
“Oh.” Quincy’s eyes widen in understanding. “That’s why you’re in town for the summer. It’s not just to film a docuseries.”
“No, it’s not. People see—” I let out a self-deprecating laugh. An ache presses on my chest, a bruise that won’t go away. “They see this version of me I’ve crafted and shared on social media.”
“The golden weather boy.”
“Exactly. It’s a caricature. When they meet me, they don’t want to know about my hopes and dreams. They want me to rap about high-pressure systems and noctilucent clouds and—have you ever seen a noctilucent cloud, Monroe?
Those thin, wispy clouds that glow? Fucking gorgeous.
Anyway.” I scrub a hand over my face. She smiles.
It propels me forward. “No one ever sees me. There’s Sebastian Dunn: weather chaser.
Not many people care about Sebastian Dunn: ordinary guy who’s looking for some joy. ”
“Does weather bring you joy?”
“It hasn’t for the longest time. But today? Today I saw a glimmer of that happiness I used to feel, and it gave me hope.” I groan. “Listen to me. I’m out here complaining about a job that pays the bills while people lost their roofs today. I need to get my priorities straight.”
“Everyone’s struggles don’t have to be equal.
Just because you didn’t lose the roof on your house doesn’t mean what you’re feeling isn’t valid.
” She drums her fingers on the table, considering.
“I think … I think life is too short to do things that don’t bring you joy.
And being burned-out is okay, but it’s not something you want to last for too long.
Maybe … maybe you have to go through that period of being stuck, of being miserable, to realize there are better things out there.
How else would you know if what you’re doing is working unless you have to climb uphill to get it? Makes it more worth it in the end.”
“That”—this laugh is softer, more earnest—“is a very good point. Thanks for listening to me. Cooper and Nate don’t know I’ve been unhappy.”
“You should tell them.” Quincy tips her head, assessing me. I like having her attention. “They love you. All they want you to be is happy.”
“Yeah. I should.” I sip my coffee. “This pep talk helped. And for what it’s worth, I think you’d be phenomenal at the NWS.” I nudge her calf with my foot, hopeful when she finds out we’re going after the same role, she’ll understand why. “Badass bitch, remember?”
“I haven’t forgotten.” She smiles. “Thanks, Dunn.”
“Truth or Dare, Monroe?”
“Are we still playing this game?”
“I need to know all your weaknesses. And to lighten the mood.”
“Truth.”
“Let’s go back to our earlier conversation about dating and personal lives. Splitting the bill.”
“Oh, no. I’d rather not.”
“Are you dating anyone?”
“I’m not answering that.”
“Come on. We went through a hurricane together! You’re required to tell me.”
“It was a Category 1.”
“Don’t care. Natural disaster rules apply. If you go through a severe weather event with someone, you’re required to reveal a secret. Go on, Monroe. Spill your guts.”
“Ugh. Fine.” Quincy sighs and drops her chin into the palm of her hand. “I’m not dating anyone. I’ve tried, but it never works out. When I tell people what I do for work, they either don’t believe me or ask if I’ve fucked anyone in the middle of a tornado.”
I choke on my coffee. Some gets on my chin, and I wipe it away with my thumb. “You’re not serious. What is it with you and storms that rotate?”
“I wish I was kidding.” She laughs. “I get blocked pretty quickly on the dating apps when I talk about the logistical nightmare it would be to have sex with someone in a ditch while what sounds like a train horn blares in the background.”
“Ambiance. Who needs smooth jazz when you can listen to the sky splitting in two and Mother Nature wreaking havoc on humanity? Definitely gets me off.”
“Please. I’ve seen the pictures of you in your tuxedos and the women posing on your arm.
That one photo shoot you did for Vogue had a lot of fancy cuff links and shiny shoes.
And you can’t forget the paparazzi snap shot of you with an unidentified blonde.
” She clears her throat, shifting in her seat.
“The women are always beautiful. You probably have a model in your bed every night, don’t you? ”
“I knew you were obsessed with me, Quinny baby. Putting up pictures of my photo shoot in your room like I’m a nineties heartthrob? I’ll keep it a secret.” I smirk when she kicks my shin. “To answer your question about my sex life—”
“I am not asking about your sex life.”
“The unidentified blonde woman was my friend, Rosie, asking for advice on a birthday gift for her wife. We had an argument over whether she should get Knicks or Nets tickets, and she finally decided on a New York Rangers game because her other half loves hockey. As for the models in my bed, your gossip websites are wrong. I told you I’m not dating half of New York, and that includes physical relationships.
I haven’t been with anyone in months,” I say.
Closer to a year at this point. It might be longer. I stopped keeping track over the holidays when I descended into a three-month stretch of using my hand and an old T-shirt to get off so I could feel something other than bitter frustration.
I was serious when I said no one’s caught my eye or held my attention for longer than a couple seconds. The women I meet are all fine. Lovely people who will make a guy really happy one day, but they haven’t been for me.
I need better than fine.
“Oh.” Quincy clears her throat. “That’s … good for you. Or, I’m sorry?”
“Your compliments mean so much to me.” I dodge the napkin she throws at my head, turning to apologize when it lands on the table behind us that’s now occupied by new patrons. “Good for you for not settling. Don’t waste your time on men who think parking under an overpass during a tornado is safe.”
“We’re doomed, aren’t we?” Her chuckle is soft, tired. She lifts her coffee mug in my direction, a peace offering in the gesture. “Here’s to finding your haboob girl.”
“She’s out there. Probably waiting for the dust to settle.”
“Your jokes are terrible, which means it’s time to take me back to my car. It’s getting late, and I’ve exceeded my Sebastian Dunn tolerance for the day.”
“I should quit while I’m ahead.” I grab my wallet out of my pocket and set down a couple of bills. “But I’m not worried. I’ll get you to change your tune one of these days.”
“I don’t know about that.” Quincy slides out of the booth and stands. “You’re going to have to keep trying.”
“We have months before I leave, Monroe.” I stand too. She might be tall at five nine, but I tower over her. I’m glad when she has to tilt her head back to meet my gaze. “It’s a good thing my determination has always been one of my best qualities.”