As Noah chatted with the waiter, I found myself drawn to his thick forearms. I could almost picture his workout routine: a long morning run, followed by bicep curls as everyone in the gym stared in awe.
Just then, a pretty college-aged girl approached Noah with a smile. He stepped into a selfie with her, and I blinked, feeling uneasy. Daphne stared at me knowingly, a grin on her face as she played with the straw wrapper. When I made eye contact with her, she threw it, and the paper bounced off my forehead.
“Hey.” I unconsciously rubbed my temple. “We’re not on that level of friendship yet.”
She reached across the table to grab the wrapper. “Noah’s alittle sensitive when it comes to his degree. Or lack of, technically. Which is dumb considering how smart he is.”
I nodded, arranging my fork and knife next to my plate. Though I’d probably go full savage and not bother with culinary items during the meal. “Seriously, it doesn’t matter?—”
Daphne prattled on like I hadn’t opened my mouth. “I mean, it’s not his fault he had to drop out of Cornell to take care of me.”
My fork slipped between my fingers and clanged when it hit the ground.
Noah went to Cornell.
Noah dropped out of Cornell.
And he took care of his younger sister, which implied that there was no one else to do it.
I ducked below the table to grab the fork, but I let myself linger longer than needed. Just so I could let my face make a series of surprised reactions without anyone seeing. When I came back up, Daphne was chewing on her cuticle again.
“I probably shouldn’t have said that.” She sounded stressed. “Can you not tell him I said that?”
I only had enough brain power to mumble an agreement before Noah returned with a basket of garlic bread. He held it in front of me, waiting for me to take a piece. When I didn’t, he placed two on my plate.
Noah, with his one million followers and perfected online presence, was a Cornell dropout. I wondered why he never went back to school.One million followers, Macey. He’s probably rich.I guess you didn’t need to finish college if you had that many followers and a constant stream of brand deals.
I felt a little bad as I bit into the garlic bread. Maybe I should be a little less judgmental.
“So,” Daphne drawled. “Can I go to Aruba, too?”
“No,” Noah answered. “You’ll be back at school next week.”
Daphne stole the bread from his hands in retaliation. He rolled his eyes and gave me a look ofCan you believe this?
The waiter returned with a tray full of colorful drinks and different types of coffee.
“Oh, we didn’t order those,” Daphne said.
“The manager sent them. They’re on the house.” He set them down on the table. “Your food will be out shortly.”
This wasn’t the first time I had been offered something for free—it usually came in exchange for the hope of a positive article. This probably happened to Noah all the time, considering he was way more recognizable than me.
Noah and Daphne reached for a glass.
“Macey, it’s free!” Daphne said when I didn’t touch anything.
I grabbed hold of my water. “There’s a very fine line as to which things I can accept for free and which ones I can’t.”
“What does that mean?”
“My contract withRoamer’s Digestis pretty strict,” I explained. “If I’m hired to cover an event, I can accept free gifts as long as they’re disclosed in my article. If I’m not writing about it, I usually turn down free gifts because it could turn into a conflict of interest.”
“So you’re not going to take the free drinks because you don’t want them to think you’re going to write about them. But you get to go to Aruba for free, and in exchange you write a few articles?” Daphne asked.
That was the simplest way to explain it. There were a million other technicalities that went into contracts: spending limits, hours of work spent on the event, disclosure agreements, taxes, and more.
“Basically,” I answered.
