Page 128 of Tempt

“My vibe has more empathy in its first two settings than the guys on campus,” I go on, and Serena cackles. “In fact,” I say, lifting my UPenn travel mug, “I mayneverhave sex again.”

“Noooo!”

Her protest has me laughing. “Plato said there are two things you should never be angry at: what you can help and what you can’t.”

“Yeah, well. White men who got to wear bed sheets to dinner said a lot of crazy shit.” Serena’s green eyes slice through me. “Besides. I’m not angry. I’m planning.” I raise a brow. “To find you a guy with a tongue that’ll turn you inside out.”

I shudder. “That’s sweet. Truly. But I didn’t come to school to get laid, Serena.” Her fake shocked face has me rolling my eyes. “I want to do something that matters.”

When I started college, my mom told me I was lucky to have been born now, and her daughter, because I’m free to be whatever I want. By that, she meant a famous painter or a rocket scientist, or straight or gay, an advocate for children or the environment.

It’s not enough.

Serena’s right. I’m obsessed with Jax Jamieson, but it’s not because of his hard body or the way he moves or even his voice.

It’s because Jax Jamiesonmatters.

He matters by opening his mouth, by lifting his guitar, by drawing breath. He matters by taking people’s hopes, their fears, and spinning poetry with them.

Every time I sit down and listen toAbandonon vinyl on the floor of my bedroom, a coffee in my hands and my eyes falling closed, it’s like he matters a little bit more.

If I ever meet Jax Jamieson, I’m going to ask him how he does it.

Before Serena can answer, my phone rings.

“Hello?”

“This is Wendy from Wicked Records. You got the internship.”

Disbelief echoes through me. I glance over my shoulder in case I’m on camera for some reality show. “But what about the other two hundred applicants?”

“Apparently their coffee making left something to be desired. Be here tomorrow at seven thirty.”

CHAPTER 2

HALEY

I can’t deal with the slippery pants two days in a row, so I borrow Serena’s skirt that hobbles me at the knees.

On top of my sleeveless blouse, I stick my leather jacket.

For safety and comfort.

My backpack holds my computer and the completed paperwork HR sent me by email.

Walking through the glass doors should be easier than yesterday—hell, I got the job. But it’s not, because I don’t know what they expect. I want to ask, “Why did you hire me?” but the security guy checking my paperwork and processing my pass probably isn’t the right person to answer.

“You’re on two. Up the elevator.”

The first two elevators are packed full, so I find a stairwell at the end of the hall.

When I open the door to the second level, I’m in another world.

Pristine carpet, white as snow. Paneled walls in a rich red color that should look retro but doesn’t.

I peel off my leather jacket because it’s warm up here and glance down the hall.

Wendy’s office is supposed to be to the left. But cursing from the first door in the other direction pulls me in.

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