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The producer rocked his head from side to side. “Technically, she was supposed to be here fifteen minutes ago, but…”
“I don’t know what to tell you,” I said, holding up my phone, as if to explain that I couldn’t get ahold of her.
“Do you want to keep waiting?” He didn’t look amused, waving vaguely at the room behind him where they did the shows. I knew on the other side of the door was a small studio with a table covered in equipment and four microphones suspended over it.
“I guess not.” My stomach sank with more disappointment than I should have felt after one date. It wasn’t my first one-night stand, but this one stung more than the girls with names I couldn’t remember. There was something different about Chelsea. “Let’s go ahead and do it.”
The producer tilted his head to the side, like he was debating if he still wanted to air the interview. When he had apparently decided it was worth it, he stepped back into the studio, me behind him. “Looks like it’s just Graham today,” he said when James and Delilah stood.
I was quick to interject when she started to look at me with a slight hint of pity. “It’s all good.” I flashed the smile that made me so persuasive, and Delilah nodded.
When the red light lit up, letting me know that anything I said now would be heard by anyone listening in the car on their morning commute, I swallowed. Delilah and James sat forward in their chairs.
“Good morning!” she sang. “I’m Delilah.”
“I’m James,” he added. “And we’re here this morning with one of our handsome bachelors who has arrived without his lovely date. Graham, tell us what happened.” I bit back a groan, already regretting agreeing to do the interview when Chelsea didn’t show up. Why hadn’t she told me she wasn’t coming?
Delilah lowered her voice to a sultrier tone and hovered her lips over the microphone. “Was the first date a disaster?” I couldn’t blame her for fishing for the best story. That’s what would give her the best ratings.
“No, actually. We had a really great time.” Our date replayed in my mind. I saw her laughing over pizza, the way she wiggled and danced when she won the game of darts. I shook my head quickly to get rid of the images and grinned at Delilah and James. “I let her beat me at darts.”
James laughed. “That sounds fun. It’s too bad she stood you up today.”
“Yeah, that’s abigbummer,” Delilah added. She sat forward in her chair. “Let me ask you this: do you like her?”
Did I? “Yeah, maybe. We really hit it off.”
“Or so you thought.” James said matter-of-factly. Delilah nudged him, and he gave her a confused look. The butterflies in my stomach sank.
“Or so I thought.”
Chapter 8
Chelsea
“Good morning!” Delilah sang through my car radio. I sat in the parking lot in front of my apartment, staring at the golden hour light reflecting off the building. “I’m Delilah.”
“I’m James! And we’re here this morning with one of our handsome bachelors who has arrived without his lovely date. Graham, tell us what happened.” I fidgeted in the driver’s seat and turned up the radio.
“Was the first date a disaster?” asked Delilah, and guilt flooded my stomach, drowning out the nerves.
I was supposed to be there. I had woken up, tried—and failed—to clear my mind with a shower before I got dressed mindlessly. As soon as I got into my car, I panicked. My hands were clammy against the wheel, and I missed my exit to the radio station—twice. When I turned around, I drove straight home.
“No, actually. We had a really great time.” At the sound of Graham’s voice, the butterflies in my stomach woke up and danced towards my throat. I stared at the spot at the top of the stairs where he had kissed me. “I let her beat me at darts.”
I gasped. “You did not!” I screamed at the radio. “I won that game fair and square!”
“That sounds like fun. It’s too bad she stood you up today,” James said, and my chest heaved with angry breaths.
I clamped my hands around the steering wheel and squeezed until I could slow my breathing. “Yeah, that’s abigbummer,” Delilah said. I could almost hear the probable smirk on her face in her voice. “Let me ask you this: do you like her?”
I inhaled sharply and held it while my lungs objected. When Graham cleared his throat, I released it with a high-pitched groan. I closed my eyes, not sure if I wanted to hear his answer. After leaving him at the studio alone, his answer could only realistically be “no.”
“Yeah, maybe. We really hit it off.” He chuckled.
“We hit it off until you told me to get on my knees and offered to tie me up!”You’re submissive to the core.I groaned.
“Or so you thought,” James said with an entertained lilt to his voice. I turned off the radio and smacked my hand against the steering wheel. Did I like Graham Morgan?
