“I never said I didn’t,” he interrupts. “I just need some time right now. If you can grant me that and keep this between the two of us for the rest of the semester, I’m willing to take a chance.”
My hands tremble slightly as I take him in—his eyes, the creases in his forehead, and the sincerity in his body language. It’s a huge ask. I’m not only risking my heart getting broken if I fall for him, but I’m also risking my future on the paper. I’m assuming I won’t be punished if we’re discovered, and he will most likely get a warning. Still, it could ruin his reputation at the university and mine at theDriscoll Wolf Weekly.
Is he worth it? Is he worth going on this venture with?
The article won’t be edited or published until our big December issue. In between that, we can’t tell anyone, or it’ll be too obvious.
And then what? I’ve never done this before, and I can’t help but picture two scenarios. One where we end things in a few weeks or months, and another where we become something more in January, eventually gaining acceptance from others at the university.
Could we be more? Would my friends feel comfortable hanging out with someone ten years older than them—and I’m getting way ahead of myself. I need to think small for now if this is going to work. I also need to set a couple of ground rules that people often forget in this kind of situation. I only hope he respects them.
“Just promise me two things.” If he says yes to this, then I know it’ll be worth it.
“What?”
“One, we’re only sleeping with each other. I don’t want to feel jealous or have you feel jealous, and I don’t want to worry about STDs.”
“I wouldn’t have it any other way.” He nods, not a hint of doubt on his face.
“Okay, and…if you get cold feet, we’re talking about ‘barely dipping your toes in room temperature water’ kind of cold, you’ll tell me so we can end things right then and there.
Grayson doesn’t hesitate. “I will.”
My shoulders sag in relief. “Okay.”
“Okay.”
“We’d better get back to this photo shoot.” I begin to walk away. “Oh, and Professor?”
“Yes, Ms. Haywood?”
“From now on, I expect you to text me back within a reasonable time, not twenty-four hours later.” He smirks, and I walk over to Ben. “He’s all yours.”
“Took you long enough. Must’ve been one hell of a question.” A click goes off.
“You have no idea.”
Chapter Twenty-Five
EMMA
“Do you want any more garlic bread, Jake?”
“No thanks, Kate. I’m reaching my limit with the pasta.”
My mom places the basket in front of me, already knowing what my answer’s going to be. “Honey?”
Nodding, I grab another piece and dip it in my red sauce.
“Aren’t you full?” Jake asks, as if he doesn’t know that when my parents order from my favorite Italian restaurant in the city, I can never get enough.
“Yeah, so?”
I stuff another fork of rigatoni into my mouth.
“She’s got her dad’s appetite,” my father says proudly. “But she’s got her mother’s metabolism.” It is true. I was blessed with something not many people have: a fast metabolism. Even though I’m thin by nature, that doesn’t mean I didn’t have issues with my cholesterol when I was a kid. I abused the fact that I thought I was healthy because I was thin and suffered the consequences.
“How’s business, Paul?” Jake asks, and my mom and I exchange a look, rolling our eyes. This is when we zone out since we’ve both heard the same thing over and over again.
