Page 8 of The Forever Experiment

I take a deep breath before following her to the curtain. She peeks her head behind the stage as we listen to a mentor and former professor of mine introduce me to the crowd before applause begins. She exits the other end of the stage, and suddenly, the curtain is being ripped aside, exposing me to blinding lights and loud crowds.

I take one more breath, hearing my heels click upon the floor as I walk out to the center and turn to face the audience head-on. My stomach is in my throat, and I suddenly regret that I didn’t pee before coming out here. My hands are shaking as I grip the edge of the podium, breath short and fast when I lean into the mic. I know that the moment I use my voice, it’s going to be trembling, giving away my fear to everyone in the room.

The audience politely claps as I allow myself to countdown from three before I jump in and begin speaking, no matter how bad I’ll sound. It’s when a deafening whistle echoes through the auditorium that my eyes snap from my shaking hands to the crowd in front of me.

All I can make out are silhouettes blocked by the stage lights, but as I scan the seats, I’m caught on one figure sitting three rows back on the far end.

Easton Mason is standing, slowly pulling two fingers from his mouth, flashing me that megawatt smile I always adored. He raises his hand, giving me a small wave.

I know the cheesiest grin is stretching my face, and suddenly, it’s not nerves providing the swirling sensation inside my body, but the familiar flap of butterfly wings.

I begin to speak, and my voice is steady and strong.

My eyes stay on him the entire time.

3

Easton

“Excuse me, do youknow where I can find Miss—” My words stop short when I spot her turning the corner outside the auditorium, a gaggle of adoring attorneys at her sides, complimenting her speech and her phenomenal career. I smile at the event worker. “Never mind.”

Leaning against the wall with my arms crossed, I watch her as she stops, deep in conversation with the group of people around her, positively glowing as she shakes their hands and expresses her gratitude for their many, many compliments. Sun filters through the paneled windows behind her, backlighting her like a goddamn halo.

When an admirer of hers moves to walk away, her eyes snag on mine as she follows their movements. She has been smiling, but I don’t miss the way her grin widens and her eyes somehow seem to shine brighter when she’s looking at me.

She remains composed while she finishes her conversations, but her eyes can’t seem to stop catching mine every few seconds.Even from across the hallway, I notice the blush accenting her cheeks, her gaze dropping when I catch her looking at me—which is every time, because my eyes unabashedly do not leave her—secretive smiles playing at her lips.

I’ve never shied away from pursuing a woman I’m interested in, and often, that interest is returned. I’m no stranger to hidden glances, flushed faces, or batting lashes. Though, there is something about the way it feels to see Maya having that reaction at nothing more than my eyes on her. It’s powerful, whatever humming current flows between us. It’s like a lasso wrapped around my chest, tugging me toward her inch by inch. I can only recall feeling this kind of power once before in my life—the last time Maya Atler was in it.

She shuffles the bouquet of flowers I bought her from one arm to the other as she shakes the hands of the last few people standing around her. As they dissipate, she turns to me, a wide smile wrecking her normally cool, collected composure. “Hi, pretty boy.”

My arms open on instinct, and as if her excitement gets the best of her, she barrels toward me, crashing into them. I lock mine around her waist, lifting her in the air and spinning her around. “Hi, Maya baby.”

She lets out a sigh against my shoulder, taking a step out of my arms as I set her down. I kind of wish she’d stay. She flips her long braids over her shoulder, giving me a once over.

“You look good.” She nods, as if agreeing with her own assessment.

“I’d say the same, butgoodisn’t the right word for how you look. You’re a fucking masterpiece.”

“Easton.” She laughs under her breath. “I can’t believe you’re here. It’s so nice to see you.”

It’s more than nice to see her. It’s like a damn dream come true.

“You too.” I nod down the hallway. “Walk with me?”

“Sure.” She smiles. As we make our way toward the front of the hotel, she loops an arm through mine. “I mean, what’re the odds?”

“Pretty high,” I laugh, “considering I came here for you.”

She stops, turning to face me, brows deep set over her shimmering brown eyes. “You camejustto see me?”

I nod.

“Why?”

I shrug, attempting to remain nonchalant. “I saw you featured in the newsletter, and my boss wasn’t able to make the conference this year, so I came in his place. I wanted to see you speak and be here to support.”

Her face softens. “That’s so sweet.”

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