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My body moves before my brain catches up.
“I’ll do it.”
They both look over. Jaxon smirks like he already knows my angle.
Lyla blinks. “You?”
“Yeah,” I say, stepping in. “I’ve got time.”
It’s not entirely a lie.
Jaxon claps me on the shoulder. “Perfect. You’ll be in good hands. Lyla’s a psycho about spreadsheets.”
“I’m organized,” she corrects, arching a brow at me like she’s already second-guessing the offer.
But she doesn’t say no.
And maybe I should’ve played it cool. Maybe I should’ve let someone else be her test dummy.
But the truth is, I want the excuse.
To talk to her more.
To see her more.
She crosses her arms, one brow still lifted. “Just so we’re clear—this project is a huge part of my grade. I need someone who’s going to actually show up and take it seriously. If you’re just trying to be cute or whatever?—”
“I can be cute and committed,” I say, flashing a grin. “I’ll give it my best. Promise.”
She doesn’t smile, but there’s a flicker of amusement behind her eyes. “Good. Then I’ll need access to your social media. Especially Instagram. If I’m supposed to manage your image, I need to see what kind of train wreck I’m dealing with.”
“Train wreck? Damn. Brutal.”
She holds out her hand. “Login.”
I fish my phone from my pocket, open the app, and hand it to her without a second thought. “Go wild.”
She scrolls for a second, then her eyes narrow. “You have like…a hundred unread messages. From girls. Going back months.”
I lean against the wall casually. “And?”
“You don’t answer any of them?”
I push off the wall, take a slow step forward, and rap my knuckles against it twice. A subtle, sharp sound that makes her blink up at me.
“Got my eyes on someone else,” I say simply.
Then I walk off, hands in my pockets, not bothering to look back.
Because I don’t need to see her face to know she’s watching me go.
15
LYLA
The conference room smells like coffee and turf.
Not the good kind of turf, either—the sweat-drenched, cleat-stomped kind that lingers in your nose long after two-a-days. I take the seat farthest from my dad and try to ignore the stack of notes in front of me, trembling just slightly in my hands.
