Page 4 of Love on the Byline

She gave a soft laugh, her eyes warm as she looked at him.“You’re you.”

Ollie didn’t know exactly what she meant by that, but hebasked in the glow from her tone and her expressionwhich told him all he needed to know for now.

“Thanks,” he said. “I think.”

Blake nudged his knee with hers. “One hour and forty-fiveminutes. Let’s get some work done.”

He nodded and set his hands back on his keyboard. Before shecould say anything else, he asked, “Are you coming to the party? It’sSaturday.”

She looked up, clearly surprised by the invitation, andseemed to think it over before shrugging one shoulder.

“You know, I might. It depends on whether I can get somework done on my story for the Ledger.” She gave him a pointed look and he knewhe was pouting. “I’ll try.”

Ollie tempered his joy. “Cool.”

Saturday brought warm weather andsunshine, perfect for Alpha Q’s first spring bash.

He wasn’t a member of the fraternity but he rented a room inthe enormous house, and Bran always included him in their plans as if he wereone of them. The brothers didn’t seem to mind. There were anumber of their teammates in the frat, not to mention other athletes. Ithad earned them the nickname the Grocks or Greek Jocks.

Ollie was a planner, an organizer, so handling the detailsof the frat’s soirees—procuring the kegs, managing the invites, ensuring there wasenough food and non-alcoholic beverages to keep anyone from getting alcoholpoisoning—those things came naturally. He did it all, happily, as he did manythings for Bran. He owed him so much.

“There’s my boy,” Bran said as he bounded down the curved stairsof the frat’s three-story house. “Everything looks great, man. Thanks.”

“Not a problem.”

“Make sure you actually enjoyyourself, this time. Your work is done. Have a little fun.” Bran winked.

“I will, promise.” Especially if Blake actually shows up.

Ollie wandered through the party, stopping here or there tochat with the brothers and their guests. Two hours in, the rager was in fullswing. Music pumped through Bluetooth speakers situated throughout the firstand second floors, the pool table at the center of the dining room already hada crowd gathered around it, and the center of the living room had beentransformed into a makeshift dance floor.

He made his way into the kitchen, winding around the bodiesplaying beer pong to get to the fridge where he grabbed his second Corona.

“Oliver!”

He turned to find one of the brothers, Ren, behind him. “Hookme up, man.”

He handed Ren the Corona in his hand.

“Sweet! You’re, like, the best little helper ever.Don’t know where Brando found you, but we owe that dude some premiumbud.”

Ollie didn’t smoke, so he didn’t know how to respond tothat. He nodded and smiled, turning back to the fridge to get another beer.

They were out of Corona, so he grabbed the next cold bottleand popped the cap.

Another hour went by, and Ollie’s anticipation at seeing Blake turned into resignation that she wasn’tgoing to come. He’d parked himself in a group of people debating whether therewas a difference between pro wrestling and the Real Housewives ofsomewhere or other when he heard a commotion in the living room.

His group barely acknowledged the yelling, too engrossed intheir own debate, but Ollie excused himself and went to investigate.

He heard a girl’s voice, loud and angry over the thumpingmusic. And then Bran’s booming baritone cut through the noise.

Pushing past the looky-loos thatencircled the altercation, Ollie stopped in his tracks.

Blake and Bran were locked in a face-off, her with her handson her hips and him with his hands in the air.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Princess.”

“Don’t call me that. I am not yourprincess. Or anyone’s. Nor am I buying this Mr. Innocent act. You knowperfectly well what you did.”

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