Page 41 of Bump and Run

Eight

Eliza

“Take me with you.”

I scan the script, blinking repeatedly as I try to find the words. “Grant, that’s not your line.”

He pulls the book away from my face. “I’m talking about the shindig at your house tonight.”

“It’s not a shindig,” I sigh with impatience and glance around the talkative classroom. The professor broke us off into pairs to memorize a three-page scene and Grant and I have to perform ours first… in twenty minutes. “It’s an opportunity for my dad to parade me around in front of the cameras to better his image.”

“But the whole team will be there, right?” he asks.

“Most of them, probably.” I shrug. “Why?”

“Uhh… strapping young men in suits. You have to take me with you.”

“You don’t want to go to this, Grant,” I chuckle. “Believe me.”

He furrows his brow. “What’s gotten into you today? You don’t seem like your usual bright and fluffy self.”

I push aside the memories from earlier. “I just have a bug up my ass. Don’t worry about it.”

“Is this bug named Junior Morgan?”

“Shhh.”I look around to make sure no one heard that.

“What’d he do?”

“He said some shit that kinda ticked me off this morning, that’s all.”

“This morning, eh?” he winks.

“I ran into him at the gym,” I explain. “We didn’t spend the night together if that’s what you’re thinking.”

“What happened on your date?”

I cringe. “Long story.”

“Then what kind of shit did he say this morning? You gotta give me something…”

The kind of shit that makes me a hypocrite for getting mad at.

One moment, I’m telling him to shift his focus to other women and the next, I feel dejected when he actually does. I hate myself for it.

I sigh and gesture with the script. “We should really memorize this scene.”

“Okay, fine, just one question: Do I need to kick his ass?” Grant offers, drawing a quick laugh from me. “Because I can and I will.”

“No ass-kicking needed, but thank you. I can handle it.”

“Good. But seriously, can I please come to your house tonight?” he begs. “Ty will be there.”

I chuckle at his obvious crush. “Fine. Just stay out of the way and don’t break anything.”

He gives a celebratory fist-pump. “Yes!”

“And dress up,” I tell him. “It’s a black tie kind of thing.”

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