TH: Looking forward to Thursday night, Saylor.
Me: Good night, Cash.
Well, now I was awake again.At least enough to finish my project before I turned into a pumpkin.Yet when I finally turned off my monitors for the night and slipped beneath the blankets on my bed, my head swirled with thoughts of Cash Donovan—specifically his lips and the way a single kisse from him could light my body on fire.
I don’t know that I dreamed “well,” but I woke up in the same headspace as when I fell asleep: with Cash on my mind and an intense throbbing between my legs.
“WTF?”I growled at the ceiling of my bedroom.
Throwing off the covers, I stomped into my en-suite bathroom, shucked my favorite Pink T-shirt that doubled as a sleep shirt, and stepped into a freezing-cold shower.
“You absolutely will not start the week thinking about a man, Saylor Cherise Davis.You are above letting a man dictate anything about you—especially your thoughts,” I scolded myself as I shivered into some semblance of self-control.At least by the time I’d shut off the water, the throbbing deep in my core had subsided.
I dressed for business in a cropped, sleeveless black knit top over a pair of wide-legged charcoal pants.A black blazer with sleeves I pushed up to my elbows came next.Then I slid my feet into a pair of hot-pink wedge sandals to complete the look.After tossing my hair up into a messy bun, I slicked on my makeup—a subtle professional look I’d perfected from watching makeup tutorials on TikTok, and from what I’d learned in my makeup classes for film school.
Breakfast was a bowl of quick oats topped with baked apple slices and cinnamon, which I ate leaning against the island in my kitchen as I scrolled through emails from my partners in our group project.We were meeting at noon to finalize our film before presenting it in class on Wednesday, and I wanted to be on top of whatever last-minute changes our director had thrown at us.
I sighed when I saw he wanted me to rearrange the showdown scene in the parking lot with the monster-stalking scene.That one move alone proved how few sci-fi movies Barry had ever seen.My eyes took an involuntary tour around the inside of my head as I wondered for the bazillionth time how our group had elected him to direct our film.Yet knowing what I was up against allowed me to start formulating my arguments for why I wasn’t going to make that edit.
After running some water into my cereal bowl, I left it behind in the sink.On my way out the back door to the garage, I snagged my messenger bag from its spot slung over a kitchen chair, scooped my keys and my purse from the end of the kitchen counter, and headed out to my car.As I passed the SCR house on my drive to campus, I glanced over at the passenger seat where a vision of Cash admiring my wheels flashed into my head.
He hadn’t made a comment about me being a rich girl.Instead, he’d admired the care I took of my SUV.I’d been expecting a shot at my family’s wealth, which usually happened whenever I gave a guy a ride, but Cash seemed to take it in stride, as though Ishouldbe driving a fancy German car.The entire time we’d spent together on Friday afternoon and evening, he’d kept surprising me—in good ways.
Damn it.
I should probably cancel our date.It would be easy to hide behind finals prep without it being obvious I was trying to avoid him.Except then I’d probably have to explain to Dalton and Taco why I’d begged off.I was sure to see them at the SCR house on Saturday for the annual house cleanup party the guys gave the Little Rhos every spring before finals.
Judging by the startled expression of the guy exiting the car beside mine when I parked in the lot across from the Film building, I may have slammed the door a bit hard.Whatever.Reaching the conclusion I couldn’t play games by avoiding Cash had ticked me off.Mainly because he was taking up so much headspace after I’d promised myself not to let him.After all, he was just a guy exactly like every other guy.
A memory of his smoldering gray-blue eyes behind his nondescript black mask at Mardi Gras danced in my head.His gaze had zeroed in on my mouth right before he set his lips on mine, and… now my panties were damp as I stomped across the asphalt to my first class.I slid into my usual seat near the front of the room for Sound Design and sighed.
“That rough of a morning, huh?”Barnard “Call Me Barry” Brown said as he seated himself beside me.
The guy was pretentious and such a prep.He never skipped a chance to remind everyone his family had come over on the next ship following the Mayflower.Why he’d chosen to attend Mountain State mystified me.The entire time, he’d been trying to impress me, yet all I could see was someone who was never going to use his degree.He was destined to return to Massachusetts after graduation, join his dad’s financial firm, attend fancy cocktail parties and snooty DAR events, marry, have the obligatory two children, and probably cheat on his wife.
“Something like that.”
“What you need is a coffee.”His oily delivery made my skin crawl, and involuntarily, I leaned away from him.Apparently, he noticed, as his tone changed to business.“We can grab one after class, discuss the changes I think our movie needs.”
“That’s a discussion for the group, Barry.”I lifted my messenger bag off the floor and pulled my laptop from it.“You called a meeting for one o’clock, so I can hold off giving my input until then.”
“You always have to be difficult,” he whined.“Why do you have to be so difficult?”
“You mean thoughtful and group-oriented, correct?After all, our professor is going to grade us as much on group cooperation as on the finished product.”
From the scowl on his face, I could see he wasn’t impressed by the facts I’d delivered in my saccharine-sweet tone.
Like I cared.
A wall of sound crashed into the room, saving me from having to engage in any more conversation with the pompous jerk.I’d been sidestepping his not-so-subtle come-ons all semester.If not for the group project that could make or break my GPA, I’d have told him to jump off a cliff months ago.Pulling a breath in through my nose, I reminded myself I only needed to make it through to Friday.Then I wouldn’t have to deal with him anymore.
The experience of working with an unreasonable, disorganized lech of a director had taught me something more valuable than the lessons the professor had included on the syllabus: when my gut told me to resist, to stand up to the group, I needed to listen to it.Even if it cost me a job in the real world.
After a couple of minutes of the mind-numbing thundering of car engines competing with the soaring orchestral music of a movie score, the room abruptly dropped into blessed silence.Then our professor stepped up to the podium.
“Oscar-worthy, do you think?”she asked the class, a trap in her tone.
The silence of chairs creaking as people shifted in them, a pen softly tapping against a notebook, and a subtle throat-clearing prompted her to raise her eyebrows as she scanned the room.My recent personal pep talk kicked in, and I raised my hand.
