Page 73 of Studious
Even though I don’t want anyone but him.
* * *
Monday morning, I step off the elevator on Weston& Ramirez’s floor and stop short, because Sam Stone is standing there, kissing the biggest rock star in the world.
I clear my throat, and the two of them break apart.
“Sorry,” Julian Hill says in his British accent.
Sam looks sheepish. “Sorry. Jules, this is Alden Meyer, our new bookkeeper. Alden, um, this is my boyfriend, Jules Hill.” A man who needs no introduction. “He has a thing about elevators, so I’m going to accompany him down. There’s no paparazzi in the lobby, are there?”
I shake my head. “Not that I saw.”
“Fantastic,” Jules says. He reaches out a hand to shake mine. “Lovely to meet you, Alden.” He’s tall and slim, wearing a green-and-blue-striped sailor shirt with buttons on the shoulders and black jeans. Sam’s in a suit with a polka-dot bow tie. They enter the elevator together.
And while I should be bowled over by the fact that I just met a major celebrity, I’m more excited that I get to see Danny today. Even though I saw him yesterday. And basically all weekend.
I really do have it bad. I stop at the reception desk to say hi to Shelby, who has his head down and seems busy with some kind of art project. I knock on the desk. “Hey.”
He looks up, startled, and then gives me a big grin. “Morning!” He narrows his eyes. “You look very happy today.”
I shrug. “Yeah, I mean, I guess so.”
“Hmm. Did something happen?”
I press my lips together.
“Oh my God, something did happen!” he squeals.
“Shh, keep it down. I’m not one to kiss and tell.”
“But Danny is, right? If it’s him, I mean. I can just find out on his Ad/VICE account, can’t I? So, what happened?”
Did Danny do a video? If he did, he didn’t send it to me. I’ll have to ask him.
I take a quick glance over each of my shoulders to see if we’re being overheard, but the coast is clear. “We’ve kissed and messed around a few times. Sort of.”
Shelby raises his dark eyebrows so high they get lost in his white hair. “A few times? As in repeats with the king of one-time club hookups? That’s unprecedented.”
Nodding, I shrug again. “Yeah. I mean… I don’t know what I’m doing, but it’s good.”
His focus on me sharpens. “And he hasn’t ghosted you?”
Digging in my pocket, I pull out my phone and show him that Danny texted me a good-morning GIF earlier today.
Shelby’s mouth drops open. “Well. Hmm. You may be taming the beast. Still… I don’t want you to get hurt. He’s a playboy. A good playboy, but a playboy.”
“I know you mean well, but—”
“Do you have enough experience to know what Danny really has in mind?”
Ugh. I hate this. Because he’s right: I don’t know. I’ve never had any sort of romantic or sexual relationship before, so how can I tell what it’s supposed to be or not?
I want to trust what Danny said. But I’m starting to second-guess myself. I wish these things were easier. I want a spreadsheet where I could plug in the numbers and know the result.
Human interactions are so much more difficult.
Shelby sees my expression, and his face softens. “Hey,” he says. “I didn’t mean to burst your bubble of sexy-man happiness. I’m just being realistic.”
