Weather Girl(23)

“It can be terrifying,” Russell agrees. “We were used to snow in the Midwest, but one winter, we got two and a half feet, and they still only shut down school for a few days.”

“We’re lucky in the Northwest. Ten-year-old Ari would have been so jealous of you in Michigan. Our sprinkling of snow every other year was never enough for her.” Honestly, it’s not enough for adult Ari, either. I force myself to take a breath. Typical Ari Abrams: waxing poetic about weather. “Sorry. Am I talking too much about the weather?”

Russell lifts an eyebrow. “I literally asked you about the weather.”

“I know, I know. Just—some people think it’s small talk, that it’s not, like, intelligent conversation or whatever. Or at least, I’ve been told that before.” Any time I was at a party with Garrison and someone said some weather we’re having, I’d rush in with an explanation. I learned quickly that people didn’t usually want the science behind it.

“And then some people think you’re making a political statement about the earth getting warmer, about the extreme weather we’re experiencing more frequently than we ever have. Even though there’s nothing about climate change that should be political, in my opinion.”

I’m relieved when he meets this with a firm nod. Not that I’d expect anything else, but I’d have some strong feelings about scheming with a climate change denier.

“One hundred percent,” he says. “And hey, sometimes games get delayed or canceled because of the weather. What you do directly affects what I do. It affects everyone, really.”

“Right!” I say, waving a tortilla chip for emphasis and accidentally flinging salsa onto my sleeve. “I’ve heard people say it takes zero effort to do the weather, that the station could put anyone up there to deliver a forecast, and the implication is that it’s unimportant. But nothing could be further from the truth.”

A grin starts in one corner of his mouth and slowly spreads across his face. I realize my cheeks are warm, a side effect of getting so animated about this topic.

“You’re giving me a look. I am talking too much about the weather. I knew it. I’ll stop. My brother says I have a tendency to get emotional about rain.” With a fingertip, I graze the lightning bolt at my collar. “And he’s not wrong.”

“Ari,” Russell says, laughing. There’s this lovely openness on his face when he does it, and it makes me wonder whether he’s been holding himself back every other time he’s laughed with me. “No. Please don’t. It’s just—your expression completely changes when you talk about it. I can tell it’s more than just a job to you. It’s not just that you’re excited about it. It’s your passion.”

Now I feel my chest bloom with a different kind of heat. However I must look right now, I want to tell him he looked the same when he was talking about sports.

“Is Ari short for anything?” he asks.

“Arielle.”

“Why are you making that face?”

I sigh, unscrunching my nose. “Because even though it’s Ahr-i-elle, everyone thought it was Ariel. Like The Little Mermaid.” I hold up a strand of my red hair, which has rejected the straightening I subjected it to for the camera. “You would not believe how many kids in elementary school asked me where my fins were, or started singing ‘Under the Sea’ when they saw me. It was easier to go by Ari.”

“I like both,” he says. “And you’re safe, because I can guarantee you don’t want to hear me sing.”

This is fun, plotting to get our bosses back together, even if we haven’t mentioned either of them in the past twenty minutes. Aside from Hannah, I don’t really have work friends at KSEA, and I’ve missed this kind of conversation with the friends Garrison took with him after the breakup.

But Russell Barringer and I—we could be friends.

We talk more about Torrance and Seth, making some plans for low-level espionage. Most of it will have to wait until after the new year.

“We’re going to have to get them together outside of work,” Russell says. “You just moved into a new place, right? What about a housewarming party?”

“In my studio apartment? I respect my possessions too much.” I consider it for a moment. “But you’re right. We need to force proximity the shit out of them. It’s just too bad we don’t have a camping trip or anything like they do in the movie, though I guess that was more to scare away their potential new stepmom.”

“No,” he says. “But we do have the KSEA retreat next month. You’re going on that, right?” I nod. It’s a mix of people every year, since the station can’t exactly function with all of us gone. “It’ll almost be like being on vacation, and who doesn’t want to fall in love on vacation?”

In a way, all this scheming makes me feel a little powerful. Garrison thought I was too sunshine? Not real enough? Well, here’s my edge. That TV version of myself, the one he thought I never turned off, wouldn’t be going behind her boss’s back like this, even if it were for the greater good.

We’re down to only chip crumbs when his phone rings. It’s been on the table between us, but we’ve barely glanced at our phones, let alone reached for them. When he sees who’s calling, though, he picks it up.