“When Did You Get Hot?” by Sabrina Carpenter plays in the theater lobby as the line grows shorter. Feeling more heat rise along my skin, I notice that Grayson’s body has moved closer to mine. Not enough for us to touch, but close enough for me to sense the change in space.
Did it happen while I was rambling?I cast my gaze downward to find his hand in a fist next to my loose one that is way too close to his. Memories of those hands roaming up and down my body?—
“You said you had a question about the article?”
“Right.” A sound that’s a mix of a nervous laugh and a choke escapes me. I cough to clear my throat, already feeling humiliated.
Jesus Christ.He’s just a man, Emma.
Straightening my shoulders, I face him head-on. I’m glad he isn’t as tall as Cameron and is instead closer in height to Levi and Jake. Still, he’s well over six feet tall.
“I spoke to my editor and the article isn’t going to be published.”
He looks at me, confused. “All right…”
“Instead, we came up with the idea to write another article about you. A longer and more in-depth story. A profile, to be exact, about you, your work at the university, and in the soup kitchen, along with your life in general. Whatever you’re comfortable telling me, of course.” His body stiffens, but he remains silent as the line gets shorter. “The ideal situation would be to let me observe a couple of your classes, have an ongoing conversation on the record, preferably, but please tell me when something is off the record. And finally, to visit the soup kitchen.” I take a deep breath. “So, what do you think?”
He remains quiet for another moment as my heart beats faster and faster.
Boom. Boom. Boom.There’s no way he’s going to give me the access I’m asking for, no damn way.
His eyes quickly sweep over my entire body. “I need to think about it.”
My jaw drops open, and I mean literally falls open.
“What can I get you tonight?” the person behind the concession stand asks, but I’m too distracted to respond.
I need to think about it?
“A large popcorn, please,” Grayson responds, and I snap my head toward him.
He reaches for a ten-dollar bill, which is ridiculous because the large popcorn costs nine dollars while the small is four. Without thinking, I put a hand over his.
“A small popcorn is fine,” I tell the woman behind the register, and turn to Grayson. “A large isn’t necessary. I’d need two boxes of M&M’s to put into the bucket if that were the case.” I quickly remove my hand from his, and he hands a five-dollar bill to the woman instead, looking down at me with a face I’ve never seen on him before.
“Two boxes of M&M’s? In the bucket? Of popcorn?”
His eyebrows furrow, and I let out a small laugh along with a sigh. “It’s weird, but it’s my thing, and it tastes good.” He keepsstaring at me, confusion and disgust shadowing his face. I almost forgot that I’m talking to a professional chef. That still won’t stop me from defending my choice in candy and how I use it. I softly shove his arm. “It’s savory and sweet. It isn’t anything other people haven’t tried.”
He scoffs and takes the small popcorn from the woman. “Whatever you say, Emma.”
My head whips in his direction, and my stomach dips at him saying my first name.
Grayson quickly recognizes his mistake and hands me the popcorn as we step out of the line.
“Maybe this article isn’t the best idea,” he says sternly.
And we’re back to this bullshit.
I exhale an annoyed breath. “Grayson, please. Take the time to think about it. You can set the boundaries, and yes, I’ll probably try to push you on some of them, but this opportunity means the world to me. Whatever agreement we come to, I’ll respect.” He looks like he’s about to say no when I tell him what I know he needs to hear. “London never happened.” Grayson narrows his eyes, and I see a flash of something new, but I decide to ignore it. “From now on, it’s Professor Hayes and Ms. Haywood, and that night never happened. You’re the professor, and I’m the journalism major who’s going to write an incredible story about you…and ideally have some pictures of you to go with the article.”
Silence greets me again, and while his body remains tense, his jaw has relaxed. “I will make my decision by the end of the week and email you the answer from the address I got from your editor’s follow-up email.”
I try to suppress my grin, but it slips. “You will not regret this, Professor Hayes, I promise.”
His eyes crinkle at the sides, and he turns around, heading to the exit. “Enjoy your movie,” he throws over his shoulder, and disappears into the night.
I quickly snatch my phone out of my pocket and send Amelia a short text. She likes my message instantly.
