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“Right, that makes sense. Do you feel good about the way you’re playing, though, in terms of what they’re seeing?” I press.

Carson frowns, and I can tell he’s aware of the fact that I’ve now asked two questions. He answers anyway. “I always want to improve. I’m never happy with the way I’ve played.”

“Really? Even when you’re great? Everyone acted like you were the second coming of some famous football player at the last game,” I say.

Carson’s mouth curves into a wry smile. “You can’t name a single famous football player, can you?”

I make a face at him, then shrug. “That’s why you’re letting me interview you, remember? I’m not an insider.”

“That’s not why I’m letting you interview me, Astrid Tyler,” Carson answers immediately, and there’s smoke in his voice that startles me. I smile despite myself, despite the heat that his words drummed up in my core. How does he do this to me so quickly? How is it I never see it coming?

I swallow. “I— um, okay, next question—“

“No,” Carson says, shaking his head. “You already got two. If you want to ask more, you’ll have to do more.”

“Do more?” I ask, unsure what he means.

Carson grins, and it’s not at all like the wry one I saw a few moments ago— it’s brooding, clever, threatening in an incredibly sexy way. I bite my lip, and it only intensifies his expression. “Meet me for dinner tonight.”

“And we’ll continue the interview at dinner?” I ask.

“No.”

“After?”

Carson shakes his head, and before I can draw up the courage to ask him more, turns and walks away. I’m left buzzing, terrified, and, loathe as I am to admit it, excited beyond all reason.

6

I have no idea what to wear to dinner with Carson Slate, but thankfully, I have Arianna. She shakes her head in disbelief when I tell her what I need to borrow another outfit for, and then squeals and calls Jess into the room when I ask for something similar to that black romper, because “Carson really liked it.”

“You are totally going to sleep with Carson Slate. I can tell,” Jess says, falling onto Arianna’s bed as I change into a sundress so short that I’m pretty confident it’s supposed to be a shirt.

“I’m going to dinner with him for a story, that’s all,” I say, as if repeating this will make it true.

“In a short dress, because he likes you in short clothes,” Arianna says in a sing-song voice. “We’ll want details, you know. Like, inches. He’s huge, so his cock has to be—“

“Arianna! Stop!” I protest, but I’m blushing hard, which only eggs her on.

“I’m just saying, you’d better be prepared. You haven’t had sex in ages, have you? Unless you’re like, sneaking around when we’re not here. You’ve never brought a guy home or stayed over, though,” Arianna says thoughtfully.

“No. No,” I say, shaking my head, and I spoke way too quickly and way too cagily. My secret is out.

“Astrid Tyler. Are you a virgin?” Jess asks, eyes wide.

I sigh. “Yes. Yes, okay? I’m not embarrassed to be one, it’s just always such a thing and I hate that. Plenty of people are virgins,” I protest.

“Plenty of people aren’t going on dates with Carson Slate. Does he know?” Arianna asks, looking seriously worried.

“No! Why would I tell him that? Besides, Carson Slate doesn’t have girlfriends. He doesn’t sleep around. Everyone knows that. So it won’t matter, because we won’t be having sex,” I argue. Something in my chest twinges when I say this— disappointment. I’m disappointed at the prospect of not having sex with Carson.

“Okay, but if you do end up having sex, do not tell him it’s your first time. Got it?” Jess says, shaking her head. “He’ll freak out. Guys always freak out.”

“If she doesn’t tell him, he might be too rough with her. He weighs like four times as much as she does,” Arianna points out.

“She’ll be fine. Don’t let Arianna freak you out,” Jess says when she sees my face. Pretty sure I’ve gone pale.

“Stop, both of you,” I say, shivering and adjusting Arianna’s dress. It hangs off my body a bit, but it cinches in at the waist enough that it still looks good. “It’s just dinner and it’s for the school paper. That’s all.”

Except, I can’t stop thinking of the way Carson looked at me this afternoon— a look that said this was not going to just be dinner. As if I wasn’t already terrified, now I have to worry about whether or not I should tell him I’m a virgin. What if he freaks out and ditches me? But Arianna is right, he’s so much bigger than I am, and I’ve heard enough virginity-loss horror stories…

“I’m a reporter. That’s all this is about,” I say, swallowing nervously, as if trying to reassure myself.

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