Leave This Off the Books (Much Ado About Love)

Chapter 1

Chapter one

NAOMI: O.M.F.G.

RILEY: Here’s my cup. Pour me some tea.

Naomi wasn’t even sure where to start with filling in her friend. Her high school reunion had gone in every possible direction except the one she expected. And she needed to tell someone.

“I don’t feel so good.” Her best friend, Abigail Meyer, who sat beside Naomi in their Lyft, made an urp sound, and her naturally pale skin somehow became a shade paler.

“Should I be pulling over?” the Lyft driver asked, casting a nervous glance at them in the rearview mirror.

“No, we’re fine.” Naomi smiled assuredly at the narrowing eyes in the reflection.

“Trust me. She hasn’t started turning gray yet.

” She was confident, mostly confident, that they would make it home without any incidents.

Having been best friends with Abby since the first day of Hebrew school meant Naomi was no stranger to holding Abby’s hair back after one too many drinks. And vice versa.

But they were in their thirties, at their fifteen-year high school reunion, and it had been a minute since she’d had to do that.

She returned her attention to her phone.

NAOMI: Everything has gone sideways. I actually flirted with someone. And then Abby threw a drink on Freya. Now she’s very drunk in the car ride home.

RILEY: Ok - listen. You cannot TLDR something like this. I need you to start AT.THE.BEGINNING. and give me all the details.

“The beginning” was the moment they walked in the doors of Northwest High, and their alumni class president handed them their name tags and reunion programs.

“Have fun, ladies!” the class president had said with an enthusiastic wave.

While Naomi had been trying to smooth out a crease in her nametag, Abby had tugged at her, pulling her off to the side near some lockers.

“She’s here,” Abby said in a hushed voice.

“Who?” Naomi asked in a normal volume, looking around to see who might be near enough for Abby to whisper.

“Look!” Abby held up the program and pointed at a line in the evening events.

ALUMNI OF DISTINCTION AWARD

Freya Jonsson

Senior Correspondent, Nightly Global News

“You promised me she wouldn’t be here!” Abby hissed like an old radiator being overworked on a frosty winter day.

“Promised” was a strong word. Naomi had relayed information. Information that had been hastily acquired and was now proving to be faulty.

When the invitation for their fifteen-year reunion had arrived (because, true to their class personality, they couldn’t get it together in time to put together a ten-year reunion), Naomi had done a quick search to see if there was any chance that their former classmate, Freya, would be attending.

Her latest post was a picture of her in Germany, which, according to the caption, was part of a story she was doing on the refugee crisis in the EU.

This is what Naomi had told Abby as part of her argument to convince her reluctant BFF to RSVP yes to the event.

Naomi hadn’t particularly cared if Freya attended the reunion.

Freya, who had filled the role of popular cheerleader in high school, had not run in her social circle back in the day, so their interactions in high school were minimal at best. Most of those interactions involved her pulling Abby away from a heated argument with Freya.

For four years of high school, Naomi couldn’t understand what was happening between Freya and Abby.

Like two pieces of flint, they seemed completely unable to pass each other without sparks flying.

Naomi hadn’t even figured out the combination on her locker on the first day of high school before she heard the two of them yelling.

The whole thing was so out of character from the kind, sweet, funny Abigail that Naomi had known most of her life, and when she asked Abby about it, she couldn’t get a straight answer other than, “She started it.”

“I guess her social media isn’t giving real time updates of her location,” Naomi had replied to Abby.

That was something she hadn’t considered but probably should have.

Freya was more than a reporter for one of the largest news organizations in the world; she was something of a celebrity.

Despite being just over thirty years old, she had become a household name.

Not only a well-respected media personality who would go to the ends of the earth to find the truth, but also a bestselling author, a frequent guest on the couch of popular late night television shows, and influencer-level social media presence who was known to post heart-melting cuddle pics with her fluffy dog, garnering nearly a million likes each time.

So, she probably didn’t habitually post her exact whereabouts to the public. Oops.

“C’mon, we’re here to see old friends and have fun,” Naomi had continued. “Don’t let Freya get in the way of that.”

“I won’t.” Abby shrugged, a small dismissive movement that belied some irritation at the suggestion.

“It’s not like it matters either way. I wasn’t expecting it, is all.

” Naomi couldn’t tell if she meant it or if she was saying it to convince herself.

Maybe a little bit from column A and a little from column B.

“Exactly. She might not even show up. Maybe she’ll accept the award over video or something.”

Abby gave a little snort. “That would be so Freya.” Yep. There was definitely some column B in there.

“Good,” Naomi had said, pushing open the double doors to the gym. “We’ve got four drink tickets between us, so let’s get us some cheap reunion-grade alcohol and

mingle.”

The small gym was packed, with easily more than a hundred people in the room. Despite the crowds, the bar was easy to spot. The two folding tables covered in black plastic tablecloths had a line a dozen people deep.

“Was that Mikey Weinberg we walked past?” Abby asked as they inched forward in line.

“You spotted him too? He’s definitely cleaned up.”

“Cleaned up? He’s looking gooooood.” Abby nudged her.

“You interested?”

Abby let out a guffaw. “He’s a little too … penis-forward for me.”

Now it was Naomi’s turn to guffaw. Her laugh came with a baritone echo, and it wasn’t until the person in front of them turned around that Naomi understood where it was coming from.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to interrupt your conversation,” the owner of the laugh said.

He was svelte, with sandy hair and rich brown eyes and a fair complexion that gave him a youthful, almost cherubic appearance.

Not her type. Not usually, anyway. But there was an unexpected flutter in her stomach that caught her off guard.

“That was just not something I was expecting to hear in line for a drink at a reunion.”

“Yeah, dicks aren’t my thing,” Abby said, shrugging unapologetically the way only Abby could. Naomi adored Abby’s ability to be unabashedly confident in who she was, but it could sometimes catch newcomers off guard.

This guy didn’t bat an eye, though. “Having one myself, I can honestly say I don’t blame you.” He chuckled.

“I like you,” Abby said. “Why weren’t we friends in high school?”

“Oh, I didn’t go here. I’m a guest. My name is Will, by the way.” He extended a hand.

“Abby.” She took it and they shook.

He nodded, and then his eyes fell on Naomi. “And you are?” His smile, an amused smirk, warmed to something a little richer. The flutter in her stomach went from a butterfly wing’s soft flap to a hummingbird’s buzz.

“Naomi,” she said. He offered his hand and she took it. She felt a rush of heat at his touch and looked down to ensure that her olive skin hadn’t turned bright red.

“And what brings you here?” The space between his eyebrows cinched together slightly, and he let go of her hand.

“I mean, besides the reunion. Obviously. And the drinks. You’re in line for a drink, clearly.

God, for a journalist, I’m not very good at asking questions.

” The awkwardness was unexpected. And adorable.

“You’re a journalist?” she asked.

He nodded. He may have released her hand, but his eyes continued to hold on to hers. “Associate producer, technically. Right now. I assist the real journalists with everything they need to put their story together. It’s not particularly exciting.”

“Really? I think it sounds incredibly exciting.”

“I mean, I love what I do. Sometimes, it involves traveling to exotic places, meeting celebrities, or working on breaking news stories. But that’s one percent of the job, and the other ninety-nine percent involves researching, editing, making phone calls, and sitting in meetings.

That kind of thing. And then there’s no guarantee that all that work will amount to anything.

I’ve put months into stories that have ended up shelved because of a lead that fell through or because the studio didn’t like the direction it was going.

As I said, not super exciting. Like this very long explanation you didn’t ask for. ”

Naomi offered a reassuring grin. “It’s interesting to me, at least. I don’t know anyone working in journalism, so this is all new to me. You said studio—does that mean you work for a television station?”

He nodded. “Nightly Global News on the WNO network. Not sure if you know it?”

Of course, she knew it.

She knew it quite well for three reasons.

One—even though she, like most people her age, did not get most of her news from TV, it was one of the most famous news programs on one of the most famous television channels in the United States.

Two—the WNO television studio was located in Chicago, two blocks from her office, and as she passed it every morning on her walk from the El.

And three—it was where Freya worked.

“I’m familiar,” she said as noncommittally as possible, a sudden squeak in her voice.