Read Online Dearest Clementine by Lex Martin - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Lex Martin
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phone. He motions for me to grab a seat, so I sit at the edge of his bed.
“What article are you working on tonight?” I ask.
His eyebrows furrow. “A follow-up on Olivia Lawrence, the BU student who disappeared this summer.”
It’s been one of the biggest news stories on campus all fall.
“I’ve read those. They’re kind of intense. You wrote them?”
“Yeah.”
They’ve been headlining articles since school started. Some have explored theories that she was abducted or possibly drowned in the Charles River. Others have been about her home life and family. One was about the new self-defense classes that started as a result of her disappearance.
I wait for him to say something, maybe brag about how he’s on the front page constantly, but he doesn’t.
Finally, he sighs. “I’ve been writing for the Freep since the first week of my freshman year, and I’ve never hated working on a story more.”
He grabs a binder out of his bag and rearranges a few things on his desk. “It kills me to have to interview her friends and family. It’s so intrusive.” He stills, and his shoulders slump. “That part of the job has never bothered me before, but having her mom fall apart on me every time I see her breaks my heart.”
Even though I haven’t known him long, I want to take him into my arms and comfort him.
“But maybe your coverage will help find her. Maybe something you write will bring her home.”
He takes a deep breath and looks up at me with a sad smile that tells me I’m being overly optimistic.
I pull out my journal and a pen from my bag, and I search for something to lighten the mood. Motioning to his guitar, I ask how long he’s been in Ryan’s band.
“Since June.” He motions toward me. “You have a killer voice, by the way.”
I stare at him and blink.
“You sang at your party.” He says it slowly, almost like a question.
“Oh, that.” I shrug. “I sing in the shower…” My voice trails off as I remember tripping and dropping my towel and flashing him my goodies last weekend.
Trying to distract myself from that embarrassing memory, I stare out the window. His room faces the middle tower of dorms, but because he’s on the northernmost side of the building, he has a stunning view of the river that runs parallel with the campus. The dark swath of water is calm tonight as it laps against the banks. I love running along the Charles. If I don’t climb, that’s where I head to unwind, to pound my frustrations and fears into the pavement while the wind whips through my hair.
Gavin orders pizza, and he muffles the phone to ask my preference of toppings.
“Pepperoni and mushrooms?” I ask, unsure of what he likes.
He winks back and places our order. Damn it, he’s cute.
“You can take off your shoes if you want, sprawl out, get comfortable. I usually write at my desk,” he says as he hangs up.
“Are you sure?”
He nods, like he really doesn’t care that I’m lounging on his bed. Okay. I kick off my shoes and scoot back until I’m leaning against the wall. Thankfully, I just showered, so I’m sporting clean socks. I start doodling in my journal while Gavin flips through some notes and opens his laptop.
After half an hour, the phone rings and he heads downstairs to get our food. A minute later, I hear a soft knock.
“Are you Murphy’s girlfriend?” a peppy little voice asks.
A cute blonde girl in boxer shorts and a t-shirt is leaning in the doorway. She looks at me sideways and repeats her question.
“I, uh… we’re friends.”
She looks at me like I didn’t say something right.
I clear my throat. “I’m Clem.”
“Because he said he had a girlfriend, like a serious one he’s been dating for a few years, and you’re gorgeous , like the kind of girl I imagined he’d date. But you’re saying that’s not you?”
I shake my head.
“Huh. Maybe he’s dating that tall redhead.” Her eyebrows scrunch briefly before she bounds off with her tidbit of
“What article are you working on tonight?” I ask.
His eyebrows furrow. “A follow-up on Olivia Lawrence, the BU student who disappeared this summer.”
It’s been one of the biggest news stories on campus all fall.
“I’ve read those. They’re kind of intense. You wrote them?”
“Yeah.”
They’ve been headlining articles since school started. Some have explored theories that she was abducted or possibly drowned in the Charles River. Others have been about her home life and family. One was about the new self-defense classes that started as a result of her disappearance.
I wait for him to say something, maybe brag about how he’s on the front page constantly, but he doesn’t.
Finally, he sighs. “I’ve been writing for the Freep since the first week of my freshman year, and I’ve never hated working on a story more.”
He grabs a binder out of his bag and rearranges a few things on his desk. “It kills me to have to interview her friends and family. It’s so intrusive.” He stills, and his shoulders slump. “That part of the job has never bothered me before, but having her mom fall apart on me every time I see her breaks my heart.”
Even though I haven’t known him long, I want to take him into my arms and comfort him.
“But maybe your coverage will help find her. Maybe something you write will bring her home.”
He takes a deep breath and looks up at me with a sad smile that tells me I’m being overly optimistic.
I pull out my journal and a pen from my bag, and I search for something to lighten the mood. Motioning to his guitar, I ask how long he’s been in Ryan’s band.
“Since June.” He motions toward me. “You have a killer voice, by the way.”
I stare at him and blink.
“You sang at your party.” He says it slowly, almost like a question.
“Oh, that.” I shrug. “I sing in the shower…” My voice trails off as I remember tripping and dropping my towel and flashing him my goodies last weekend.
Trying to distract myself from that embarrassing memory, I stare out the window. His room faces the middle tower of dorms, but because he’s on the northernmost side of the building, he has a stunning view of the river that runs parallel with the campus. The dark swath of water is calm tonight as it laps against the banks. I love running along the Charles. If I don’t climb, that’s where I head to unwind, to pound my frustrations and fears into the pavement while the wind whips through my hair.
Gavin orders pizza, and he muffles the phone to ask my preference of toppings.
“Pepperoni and mushrooms?” I ask, unsure of what he likes.
He winks back and places our order. Damn it, he’s cute.
“You can take off your shoes if you want, sprawl out, get comfortable. I usually write at my desk,” he says as he hangs up.
“Are you sure?”
He nods, like he really doesn’t care that I’m lounging on his bed. Okay. I kick off my shoes and scoot back until I’m leaning against the wall. Thankfully, I just showered, so I’m sporting clean socks. I start doodling in my journal while Gavin flips through some notes and opens his laptop.
After half an hour, the phone rings and he heads downstairs to get our food. A minute later, I hear a soft knock.
“Are you Murphy’s girlfriend?” a peppy little voice asks.
A cute blonde girl in boxer shorts and a t-shirt is leaning in the doorway. She looks at me sideways and repeats her question.
“I, uh… we’re friends.”
She looks at me like I didn’t say something right.
I clear my throat. “I’m Clem.”
“Because he said he had a girlfriend, like a serious one he’s been dating for a few years, and you’re gorgeous , like the kind of girl I imagined he’d date. But you’re saying that’s not you?”
I shake my head.
“Huh. Maybe he’s dating that tall redhead.” Her eyebrows scrunch briefly before she bounds off with her tidbit of
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