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Including, apparently, every woman within a twenty-block radius.
I watched him talk to his fans, smiling at them, cracking jokes. He seemed somehow both bored and totally engaged with every person that came near him. It was almost magnetic the way he spoke and looked at everyone, even if he was just asking their name and writing in their book.
I inched my way forward, more and more nervous with each step. I didn’t understand why, since I had no real interest in this man. He was just an assignment, just one more topic I needed to write about. But for some reason, he was intimidating. I’d gotten my books signed by other famous people, even spoken to a few for interviews, but I had never felt so strange before meeting someone.
And then it was my turn. Nash Bell looked up at me and smiled. My stomach twisted itself into knots.
“Don’t be shy, girl,” he said, grinning. “Come over here.”
I walked over, frowning at him. “Uh, hi. My name is Selena Wood. I’m a journalist for the Penn Daily, the student newspaper here at the University of Pennsylvania.”
He nodded. “Okay, Selena. Want me to sign your book?”
I put it down on the table. “I was hoping I could get an interview with you, Mr. Bell.”
He flinched. “Call me Nash.” He looked back up at me, cocking his head to the side. “Now, why would I give you an interview?”
I paused. “It’d be good exposure. Every student here reads it.”
His smile curled into a suggestive grin. “You’re going to give me exposure, Selena?”
“My newspaper will,” I said quickly. “We can do it later, or even just a few quick questions right now.”
He paused for a second, staring at me. I suddenly felt completely alone in that huge room, like I was the only person he had any interest in. It was almost exhilarating the way his attention suddenly honed in on me and made me feel so absolutely looked at.
“You want to do it later? I’m not sure you could handle me, Selena.”
“The interview, I meant,” I said quickly, blushing deeply. “Sorry. I meant the interview.”
He laughed, shaking his head. “I know what you meant. I like your dirty mind though.”
“So, uh, any interest?”
He stared at me for another second and then motioned for me to come closer. I leaned in toward him. “Are you sure you want to be alone with me?” he said softly.
“It’d be an honor to interview you.” I regretted the words as soon as they came out.
“An honor,” he grunted. “We’ll see.” He wrote something in my book and passed it to me. There was the name of a restaurant and a time.
“Know the place?” he asked.
“Sure,” I said. “It’s pretty fancy, over in Old City.”
“Meet me there at eleven. Wear something nice.”
I opened my mouth, surprised, but he was already looking away. Slowly I turned and walked away as another set of undergrads came over, obviously making lewd sexual jokes that he easily batted back at them.
I walked away, back through the crowds, but I felt a million miles away.
What the hell had just happened?
I looked in my book and, sure enough, the name of the restaurant and the time were both still written there, plain as day.
Nash Bell wanted to meet me at eleven at the type of place I’d never be able to get inside of, let alone afford. I couldn’t tell if he wanted me to interview him or if I was meeting him for something else.
As I walked back out into the cool night air, I couldn’t help but think about his reputation. Nash Bell wasn’t exactly known as a wholesome guy in the media. There were rumors of drinking, partying, whoring, and drug use, all the sort of things I tried to avoid. He apparently went through women like sticks of gum, chewing them up and spitting them back out. He left wakes of destruction behind him, all because he could.
And I was supposed to meet him alone for a drink?
I made my way back toward my apartment, still in shock over the whole episode. It almost felt like a strange, bad dream.
Why the heck would Nash Bell want to meet with some undergraduate girl in her senior year? It couldn’t be because he was interested in trying to seduce me or something like that. The man could get any woman he wanted; I doubted he would bother with someone like me.
And it couldn’t be for the tiny bit of exposure I could give him. I had fully expected him to say no, to maybe give me a quick quote before kicking me out. Instead, he was offering me some serious one-on-one face time.
It was the sort of access some journalists would dream about. Nash Bell was the hot thing, and if I got an exclusive interview with him, I could seriously get my name out there.
