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age difference. I was still in high school, although I was a senior and everyone thought I was mature for my age. He was a very successful music mogul at 24, who had already done a lot of things I had only yet to do.  It was intimidating how much more experience he had in life compared to me, and I was afraid there would be too much of a difference between us.
    I shook my head, it had only been one day…one long and intense day with Collins McGregor. I had let Lola, my primitive crazy inner pleasure-seeking diva or my id, as Sigmund Freud called it, have a field day lusting after Mr. Hot Bod. While it was fun and exhilarating, Serious Susan, my practical calm side or my ego, was telling me to get back to reality. Mr. Hot Bod/aka Collins McGregor had probably been caught up in the moment, as I was. Top executives of large companies tend to be very charismatic and driven in all aspects of their lives, according to Principal Lowry, whom I worked with in leadership training while I was Junior Class President last year. That was probably all it was… Collins McGregor was like a rock star and I was like everyone else when it came to falling under his spell. Heck, Mom, especially drunk Mom had, and she was like twice his age! The day I met Collins McGregor had been one long and intense day. He’d probably already forgotten about me.
                As painful as that may seem, I had to find something that would take my mind off of Collins McGregor.  I had to get back to reality and let Serious Susan back in the house or I wouldn’t get anything done.
    I looked down at my paperwork from Sawyer House, and I went through it all again, making sure everything was in order. Serious Susan had taken over and everything was neat and clean. I stuffed the paperwork back into the manila folder it had come in, checked my appearance in the mirror in the hallway from my room and headed for the door.
                As I pulled into the parking lot outside a plain office building in Costa Mesa, I checked the time on my phone.  5 pm. Right on time.
                I smoothed my cream-colored slacks and pulled my navy cardigan on over my white scoop-necked stretched t-shirt, an outfit I splurged on from The Limited. Despite being involved in school and Dad’s church, I did not really have a work wardrobe. With the exception of a few skirts, blouses, blazers, and sweaters, my wardrobe consisted of mostly jeans, t-shirts, and sweats. Sawyer House, even though I was volunteering, was my first experience working outside of school and church. I wanted to make a good impression.
                Walking up to the front door, I rang the doorbell and waited. A woman who was maybe fifty years old, dressed in grey slacks and a black blouse two shades darker than her fashionably styled chin-length hair, appeared and opened the door.
                “Hi,” she said smiling. “You must be Samantha Sullivan. Come on in.”
                When I walked through the door, the woman extended her hand and said, “I’m Gail Reynolds, the Director of Sawyer House. Dr. Green told me all about you,” she said warmly.
                “I hope all good,” I joked.
                “Definitely all good,” she said, “or you wouldn’t be here,” she smiled drily. “Now, I bet you’re eager to get started.”
                “Yes,” I smiled nervously.  “Before I forget, here’s my paperwork.” I handed her the manila envelope.
                “Good good,” she said, holding onto it.  “Do you have any questions after going through it?”
                “No,” I said. “Not at the moment. I’m sure when I get into it, I will.”
                “Good, don’t feel shy about asking.  That’s what we’re here for. And call me Gail,” Gail said. “Come. You can put your purse in my office while I give you the tour. We’re pretty casual