Page 218 of Talk Swoony to Me


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Definitely second floor.

I move to follow, but a firm tug on my bag holds me in place. I glance behind me, making eye contact with this random guy again, his finger firmly hooked around my bag’s strap.

“Can I help you?” I ask, very much over… whatever this guy’s problem is.

“You,” he says, his eyes wider than before. “Who are you? Why are you on a first name basis with Grant Wilson?”

I gently pry my bag from his hook. “He’s a friend of my family,” I say.“I’ve known him my whole life.”

“Do you know Alyssa Morgan, too?”

“Yes.”

He gasps. “Really?”

I smile. Makes sense that Grant and Alyssa have admirers here — within the same halls they learned and mastered their craft. “She used to bake me cookies,” I say, happy to play that card.

His smirk returns. “Dana, was it?”

I glare at his extended hand for a moment before shaking it. “Yes,” I say.

“Hello, Dana. I’m Dylan. We should get to class.”

“We?”

He hooks our arms, friendly as ever, guiding me with him up the stairs. “Playwriting 101. Room two twenty-four.”

“You’re in this class?” I ask.

He snorts. “Are you kidding? I signed up for it the moment class registration went live. It filled up in less than ten minutes.”

“It did?” I frown. “Then how did I get in last night?”

“Fate works in mysterious ways.”

“You think fate put me in this class?”

“And sat you right next to me.”

“Why would fate do that?”

Dylan stops us on the second-floor landing with a sigh, glaring at me as if the answer were obvious. “Because you’re the one.”

“And what does that mean?”

“Look, I came to Chicago North University for one purpose and one purpose only: to become the next Grant Wilson. And for every Grant Wilson,” he motions toward me, “there’s an Alyssa Morgan.”

“Oh, I’m not an actor,” I say before he gets the wrong idea.

“Obviously. Your class schedule told me that. Even if it didn’t, you’re clearly lacking in the charisma department.”

“Hey, I?—”

“But I have a gut feeling,” he says over me. “You’re not an actor, but you’re a writer, right?”

I nod. “Yeah.”

“Then you’ll write for me. Grant Wilson doesn’t act much anymore, but he’s a brilliant writer and Alyssa Morgan has earned countless accolades reciting his words. Are you a brilliant writer?”

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