After checking in and finding my room toward the end of the building, I close myself inside, undress, and set my phone on the nightstand next to me. It’s still early, but I’m too tired to care.
I can’t help myself. I jump onto the bed and instantly regret my carelessness. The mattress is firm and doesn’t budge, and my body feels the impact like I fell onto cement.
My feet dangle off the edge of the bed, and I grumble. Tonight would be another shitty night, but for entirely different reasons.
Just as I close my eyes, my phone beeps and I roll over and look at the screen. My heart skips when I see it’s Boo.
Chapter 8
I’m smilingat my phone screen as I see the dots that signify Jude writing back. I knew my message would get an immediate response.
Me: I do feel something when I close my eyes. It’s very small and kinda hard, so I think it is you.
I couldn’t save Jude’s contact under his real name, so I chose another JT.
Justin Timberlake: Bullshit. Take it back.
Me: I’m not taking back shit.
Justin Timberlake: I do NOT have a small dick. Would u like a dick pic right now?
Me: I’m sure you have an album of them, but no, please spare me.
Justin Timberlake: Where’s the nice girl I hung out with last night?
Me: I was tired and my defenses were down.
Justin Timberlake: Liar. You’d kiss me again right now if you could.
I can’t help rolling my eyes at the phone.
Me: Have to go, I’ve got an interview with a political blogger from Chicago in 5 minutes. He wants my take on my opponent.
Justin Timberlake: Do tell. Is he hot AF? Do you moan into his mouth when he kisses you?
Me: More like cocky AF. With a small dick.
With a smile, I tuck my phone into my bag and head for the tiny bathroom on my campaign bus. I smooth down my hair and put on some lip gloss, then join Lexi outside the bus so we can walk to my interview with Matt Pollitt. He’s a blogger who leans right, but he’s always treated me fairly.
The coffee shop we meet Matt at is nearly deserted. He’s waiting for us at a table in the back, wearing red suspenders and a red bow tie, his completely bald head shining when the light hits it.
“Reagan,” he says, standing up to shake my hand. “And Alexis. Thanks for your time, ladies.”
“Anytime, Matt,” I say, sitting down. “I’m sending you a blue tie and suspenders, by the way.”
He laughs, and the wrinkles show up in the corners of his eyes. “I can’t accept a gift from a candidate, but thank you for thinking of me.”
“I’ll go get us some coffee,” Lexi says to me. Matt’s got some sort of icy coffee drink with whipped cream in front of him on the table.
“So,” Matt says, his pen poised over a blank sheet of notebook paper, “Jude Titan. How does it feel to be running against a war hero?”
I give him my practiced smile. “I don’t feel any differently than I did before Mr. Titan entered the race. I’m just focused on meeting as many people as I can and learning how I can best serve them in the Senate, should they believe in me enough to give me their votes.”
“Do you feel Mr. Titan is qualified to serve in the Senate?”
“That’s up to the voters,” I say with a shrug. “I would note that he is overconfident and politically inexperienced, though.”
Matt clears his throat. “Mr. Titan said you, and I quote—” He flips to another page in his notebook for reference “—don’t have enough real-world experience outside of politics to understand the plight of the little person. What’s your response to that?”
