He was already shaking his head. I knew his concern was the budget. It was always the budget.
“I’ll take them,” I said. “You don’t have to hire a photographer. Look—” I pointed to the screen. “This guy, Eli, the front man, he was beautiful. A close up of him on the mic might not get the guys to the show, but I can guarantee any girl eighteen to twenty-five would skip on down to that show with their lunch money to see him sing, even if glam punk isn’t their thing.”
“Which would be relevant if the majority of our readers weren’t male.”
“So, let’s get the girls reading. Because where the girls go, the guys follow.”
“You want to use my paper to get Eli laid?”
“Sure. Why not? And while we’re at it, Speak becomes the stalking source.”
“Sex sells.”
“Sex sells.”
We shared a grin.
His eyes were violet under the yellow lights of the newsroom. It was nearly impossible not to stare at him. “I could get permission to set up a few stands on campus. I noticed we don’t have any yet.”
“I’m working on it,” he said as he bit his lip in thought.
I kept rambling while a tidal wave of ideas swept over me. “I could talk to a couple of club owners, get a schedule for ladies night with no cover, feature the bands and the clubs that want to get on the map—”
Nate walked away while I was mid-sentence, unlocked his office, and came out seconds later with one of the few cameras he kept there. “It’s worth a shot. Know how to use one of these?”
It was a Nikon with all the bells and whistles. “Sure.”
“Liar,” he said with his signature wink. “You break, you buy.”
“This is going to work,” I said as I grabbed my backpack and tucked the camera inside.
“What are you going to do about the ugly front man?” Nate asked.
I felt the residual tug and tamped it down. “It’s not always the front man.”
He shut off the main light in the office, leaving us in pitch dark.
We walked toward the moonlit lobby as he set the alarm.
“Nate?”
“Yeah?” he said, punching in the security code, his back to me.
“Nothing.”
He walked us out of the front door and locked it up with me on his heels.
“’Night.”
“No ride tonight?”
I shrugged. “Roomie is working.”
“Come on. I’ll take you home.”
“I’m good,” I said.
“Not with the camera in your backpack you aren’t,” he scorned as he walked us toward the parking lot.
“To hell with me, right? As long as the camera’s safe.” He unlocked the passenger door and then nailed me to it with his stare alone. “What do you want to hear, Stella?”
“Huh?” I asked as he closed the space between us, swallowing hard while he hovered. He searched my eyes under the streetlight and then bent his head. “Stella.”
“Uh huh?” He smelled amazing, and I couldn’t stop myself from breathing him in. I was tempted to grip his broad shoulders and pull him closer. It would be so easy to touch him, an attempt at a little reprieve from the ache. Bury the handle so I could never find the shovel again. But I’d bounced from one man to the next and got eaten by curious flames. And everything inside me told me that Nate’s blue fire would stir up those ashes and mold them into something unrecognizable.
“You’ve got to step back so I can open the door.”
“Okay.”
I took a step back. He hesitated and then opened it for me.
He was quiet as he took the streets toward my apartment. I watched him bite his lips, his shoulders rigid, and his eyes straight ahead. There was a reason I rebuked every attempt he made at something more between us.
Reid.
He’s your boss.
Reid.
Your future could depend on doing well at his paper.
Reid.
And just like that, I was under water, stifling the flames.
“Hungry?” Nate asked as I caught myself staring at his profile.
“Starving,” I said as my stomach rolled.
“What are you in the mood for?”
“Food.”
He chuckled. “That’s helpful. I’ve got a place.”
My phone buzzed.
Lexi: Where are you?
Having a late dinner with the boss.
Lexi: Really? K. See you at home.
Nate looked over at me while I typed.
“My roommate, Lexi. She’s just wondering where I am.”
“I didn’t ask. But did you tell her you were staring at your boss?” he asked with a straight face as he glanced over at me.
“Wow, what an ego,” I said with an eye roll. “I wasn’t staring at you.”
We pulled up to a Greek hole-in-the-wall with an Open All Nite sign. He put the truck in park and turned to me. “Don’t throw those fucking signals at me, Stella, or you’re going to find yourself on the right side of my bed.”
“Why the right?”
“Because I sleep on the left,” he said as he leaned in. “And you’ll sleep on the right. Every man needs a right girl.”
“Nate—”
“I don’t play games. I don’t have time for them. I’ve wanted you since the minute you walked that beautiful ass into my paper and I’ve made that clear.”
The truck had no air. None. I looked him over, his intensity never wavering.
“The next time you look at me like that, I’m going to make good on at least five of the scenarios I have going on in my head.”
“So, it’s a sex thing.”
“No, it’s a Stella thing.” He leveled me with his stare. The timbre of his voice filled with pure temptation. “I want to split a paper with you over breakfast. I want to find out what your favorite movie is. I want to know everything about you, and despite my best efforts, you’ve given me less than shit. I want you in a million different ways, but when you look at me like that, all I can think of is one.”
My throat went dry as I let my eyes trail down to his clenched fists. “I got hurt.”
“I know. Let’s eat.”
Everlasting Friend
Blue October
Nate sat in the booth, his back to the window, his arm along the back of the booth as the waitress took our order—two gyros and a basket of fries.
“So, what happened?” Reid had asked the same question.
He forgot about me.
I damn near laughed at the irony, and Nate furrowed his brows.
“Sorry, if you only knew how much of a coincidence that question is—was. And I don’t want to talk about it. Ever.”
He nodded.
“And my favorite movie . . . It’s a tie between Pulp Fiction and Xanadu.”
“Xanadu,” he said on a whisper before he gave me wide eyes. “That piece of shit? The eighties movie?”
“Hey! Olivia Newton-John is one of my idols. Olivia Newton-John in an off the shoulder dress with knee socks on roller skates makes her a goddess! Don’t hate on Xanadu.”
“That movie is older than you are!”
“It has the best soundtrack, ever!”
“LAME,” Nate said with a chuckle.
“Well,” I shrugged, “what can I say? I have an old soul.”
“Lame soul.”
“But you know the movie,” I pointed out, sipping my Dr. Pepper.
“I have an older sister and was forced to watch that shit,” he said, pulling on his beer.
“I may never forgive you if you say it’s shit again.”
He rubbed his bottom lip, drawing my attention to it before I darted my eyes away.
“There are roller skates in your apartment. I’m willing to bet my paper on it.”
I shrugged. “Halloween costume.”
“And not a single person knew who you were!”
“The parents did!” I defended. “Well, a few of the moms.”
“A Hispanic girl with long black hair?”
“Latina. And every dark girl wants to know what it’s like to be a light girl at some point in their life.”
“Oh, Stella—” he chuckled as our food was set before us “—you are something special.”
“Act accordingly,” I warned.
“Oh, I’m trying,” he said as he gripped his sandwich and took a bite. “Shit, that’s good,” he mouthed around a mouthful. “Eat.”
“Yes, boss.” I took a bite and moaned in surprise. “That’s delicious.”
“God, so good. Ma’am—” Nate pointed to his sandwich, grabbing the attention of our Nate-thirsty waitress “—I’ll have another.”
“Two?” I asked, eyeing the sandwich he had left.
“Always ask for more of a good thing, Stella. Never know when you’ll have it again.”
“Pfft,” I said, taking a sip of my Dr. Pepper. “Is that your life advice?”