Love on air

Chaos and Conversations

CHAPTER 3

##SAMANTHA’S POV

I stood outside the apartment building, the brutal Chicago air wrapping around me like a cold sheet. I was fumbling with my phone, my fingers hovering over the screen as I tried to book a ride. The app was lagging, frustration gnawing at my gut—between the "Boxer Incident" in the kitchen and the ticking clock of my first day, I was already on edge.

Just as I was about to confirm the ride, I realized I hadn't called home. I needed a voice that didn't sound like a legal deposition. I dialed, and the anticipation built with every ring until a familiar voice broke through.

“Hello, love,” my mom said, her voice laced with a yawn. It was clear I’d woken her up.

“Mom, good morning!” I tried to keep my tone upbeat, but the morning's frustrations were leaking through.

“Good morning, sweetheart! How’s the new apartment treating you?”

I sighed, leaning my back against the cold brick wall, the weight of the last twenty-four hours settling on my shoulders. “It’s… interesting. I’m still getting used to everything. My roommate is a bit of a piece of work, though.”

“Oh no! What’s she like?”

“He,” I corrected, shaking my head even though she couldn’t see me. “And let’s just say he’s not the friendliest person. He walked into the kitchen in his boxers this morning and made it very clear he doesn’t care about modesty—or my personal space.”

My mom chuckled softly, that comforting sound that made me miss home instantly. “Sounds like a real charmer. Just remember, Sam, you’re the one who chooses how you react to him. Don’t let his attitude get to you.”

“I’m trying, but he acts like I’m invading his life when I’m just trying to figure out the coffee maker. He’s so cold, Mom. It’s like living with a human glacier.”

“Just give it time,” she advised gently. “Some people take a while to warm up. Besides, you’re there for your career, not to make friends with a grumpy lawyer. Give yourself some grace. The first few weeks are always the hardest.”

I felt a little lighter, the tension in my chest easing. “Yeah, I guess you’re right. I just need to stay focused and not let him get under my skin.”

“Good! And remember, I’m just a call away. I love you, and I’m so proud of you for taking this leap.”

“I love you too, Mom. Thanks for always being there,” I replied, feeling grateful for her unwavering support. “My regards to the twins.”

“I’ll tell them, dear,” she said warmly.

After hanging up, I took a deep breath, the cold air filling my lungs and sharpening my focus. My mom was right; Jeremy was just a temporary roommate in the story of my life. Apart from Lena, my mom was the only one who truly got me.

With that thought, I felt grounded. I squared my shoulders, smoothed my blazer, and watched as my ride finally pulled up to the curb.

***********************

I hit the glass doors of Skyline Media at 7:30 AM sharp. The Chicago sun was just starting to bleed over the horizon, turning the skyscrapers into jagged shards of gold. Inside, the lobby was already humming with that "big city" electricity that made my skin tingle with a mix of terror and pure, unadulterated hype.

I stepped into the newsroom, the click of my heels on the polished floor sounding like a countdown.

“Hey, newbie! Watch the landing! Don’t trip on your first day!”

I spun around to see a guy with messy hair and a cheeky grin leaning back in his swivel chair.

“Thanks for the vote of confidence!” I shot back, a nervous laugh escaping me as I navigated the maze of desks.

I found my assigned spot and tried to look like a seasoned pro, but my hands had other plans. In my rush to arrange my notebook and pens, I sent a stack of research papers flying. They cascaded to the floor like a shower of confetti. Great, Sam. Smooth move.

I scrambled to the floor, heat crawling up my neck, when a pair of stylish boots stepped into my field of vision.

“Need a hand? Or are you just redecorating the floor?”

I looked up. A girl with a wild halo of curls and hazel eyes that practically sparkled with mischief was leaning over me.

“Samantha Jacobs,” I breathed, taking the papers she handed back. “And apparently, I’m the morning entertainment.”

“May Bianchi,” she said with a warm, throaty chuckle. “And don’t sweat it. On my first day, I christened my boss’s white rug with a double-shot latte. You’re already doing better than me.”

Relief washed over me. May was a vibrant blur of energy—half American, half Italian, and a hundred percent cool. As we sorted the mess, she told me she was in the editorial department. She had this effortless, exotic allure that made the dull office lighting feel ten degrees brighter.

“I’ve always wanted to learn Italian,” I admitted, stacking the last of the folders. “I actually obsessed over this one show in college—a Korean-Italian drama? About a mafia lawyer.”

May’s eyes went wide. “Wait... Vincenzo?”

“Vincenzo Cassano!” we shouted at the exact same time.

A few heads turned in the newsroom, but May didn't care. She struck a dramatic pose, her voice dropping into a playful, gravelly tone.

“Un diavolo scaccia l'altro,” she whispered, before we both burst out: “Oh, my Consigliere!”

We collapsed into a fit of giggles, the tension of the morning finally snapping. Suddenly, May burst into a few lines of a song, her voice rich and melodic, echoing off the glass walls. “Ti amo, Sam! It means ‘I love you’ in Italian,” she laughed, her accent thick and musical.

“Wow,” I said, grinning ear to ear. “I think I could get used to this. Should I drop a ‘Ti amo’ in my first investigative report for flair?”

“Only if you want Emily to have a heart attack,” May teased, winking at me. “But seriously, let’s grab coffee later. I’ll teach you some phrases that are actually useful—and maybe some that aren’t. Just promise me one thing?”

“Anything.”

“Don’t spill the coffee when we meet!”

We both went off again, our laughter cutting through the serious hum of the newsroom. For the first time since I’d landed in this city, I felt like I wasn't just an outsider looking in. I had a friend.

****************

Later that morning, the newsroom was a blur of ringing phones and frantic typing. I was deep in my notes when the air seemed to shift—that "boss energy" you can feel before you even see the person.

Emily strolled by, her presence commanding every eye in the room. She paused at my desk, her gaze sweeping over my outfit with an approving tilt of her head.

“Samantha, you look sharp today. That blazer is a power move—perfect for your first official day.”

“Thank you, Emily!” I felt a flush of genuine pride. “I wanted to make sure I looked the part.”

“You do. That navy brings out the fire in your eyes,” she affirmed, leaning against the edge of my desk for a brief second.

“Honestly? I was a bit of a mess this morning,” I admitted, thinking of the "Boxer Incident" and my frantic call to my mom. “I wasn't sure if I’d actually fit in here, or if I’d just be 'the intern' in the corner.”

“Fit in?” Emily’s eyes sparkled. “Sam, you’re not here to fit in. You’re here to carve out a space that didn't exist before. In this industry, authenticity is the only thing that doesn't get old. Use that voice of yours.”

“I will. I just hope I can live up to the standard,” I said, my heart swelling with a new kind of confidence.

Emily smiled, but then her expression turned a little more curious—almost mischievous. “And how is my nephew adjusting to your 5:30 AM wake-up calls? Is Jeremy behaving?”

I let out a dry, sarcastic chuckle, the image of his grumpy, half-naked face flashed in my mind. “Let’s just say he’s a night owl who isn't exactly thrilled to share his 'nest.' I think I’m officially a disturbance to his beauty sleep.”

Emily burst into a warm, genuine laugh. She leaned in closer, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper that made me lean in too.

“Can I tell you a little secret about Jeremiah?”

“I’m all ears,” I whispered back, intrigued.

“He seems like a human iceberg on the outside—rude, blunt, and far too obsessed with his law briefs. But I promise you, Sam, beneath all that frost, he’s the sweetest boy I know. He’s just... protective of his peace.”

“Sweetest boy?” I raised an eyebrow, my voice dripping with skepticism. “Are we talking about the same Jeremy? The one who says 'congratulations' instead of 'hello'?”

Emily laughed so hard a few producers looked over. “Trust me! It’s a tough exterior, but it’s just a shell. Once you dig deep enough, you’ll see the heart underneath it.”

“I’ll keep my shovel ready then,” I joked, though a part of me wondered if I’d ever find anything but ice. “Maybe there’s a sweet side buried under all those legal motions.”

“Definitely. And remember, my door is always open—whether it’s for a news tip or to vent about his attitude,” Emily said with a wink before spinning on her heel toward her next meeting.