Page 6 of Love on the Byline

Blake took a step back. “Maybe I’m too close to youto really see you. Maybe you’re more like Brandon Peters than I realized. Whyelse would you two be so close?”

He couldn’t deny it. He and Bran had a lot in common, butnone of it made either of them bad people.

“You’re jumping to a lot of conclusions,” he heard himselfsay.

“No,” she replied in a tone he hadn’t heard her use with himbefore. “Only one. My grandfather always said you could tell a lot about aperson by the company they keep.”

She took another step backward, and another, until she wasstanding at the top of the steps.

“Blake, wait.” The further she moved away from him, the moreit felt like the end of something that hadn’t had a chance to start.

The look she gave him was sad. Regretful. “I’m going to haveto step away from our project,” she said, the words landing like a hammer blow.“It’s early in the semester. I’m sure you’ll find someone else.”

“Blake, I...” He scrambled for the words that would explainhow wrong she was, but he couldn’t find them. Maybe they didn’t exist. Maybeshe was right.

She went down the first few steps before turning back tohim. “You should really think about what friendship means, Oliver. Because,from where I’m standing, you’re more of a friend than he deserves.”

Blake took the two remaining steps and walked off into the night.

The following Friday, she didn’t show up for class. She’ddropped it.

And him.

2

Now

When her phone rang at you’ve-got-to-be-kidding o’clock inthe morning, Blake fought hard against wakefulness. Sleep had been elusive oflate, and she had been running on fumes. She sent up a silent wish for thecaller to give up, sighing with relief when her phone went silent. Her lumpymattress was far more appealing than dealing with a wrong number or alate-night butt dial from one of her roommates, so she remained blissfullystarfished.

For about fifteen more seconds.

Whoever it was couldn’t seem to take a hint because theycalled back and kept calling. Awake and grumpy, with her cheek plastered to asheaf of papers sprawled across her duvet, Blake rolled to her back. She’dsurely have creases in her skin, and probably a few ink stains. She had workedlate into the night and her laptop lay open beside her, its screen dark.

The house she shared with her two roommates was eerilyquiet, which meant they were either still out or sleeping in. She triedrallying herself to grab the phone and see if whoever it was had left a voicemail.

She managed to wriggle towards her nightstand and pick it upbefore the ringer went off again. Pushing a stray twist of hair from her face,she sat up and looked at the screen.

“Gideon” she answered, frowning. “Why are you calling me atsuch an unholy hour?”

“There you are, thank fuck,” her boss said, sounding equalparts relieved and annoyed. His default. “I need you in the office ASAP. Lastnight, we got a tip Desiree Stanley was holed up with Brandon Cody.”

“Who is where with whom?”

“I sincerely hope you’re kidding right now.”

Blake yawned, her mind still foggy.“I hate to disappoint you, but I have no idea who those people are.”

“Get up, get dressed, and get over here. Right now, beforethe hounds come sniffing around our story.”

“Wait, you want me to come now?” She squinted at her phone andshuddered when she saw the time. She’d been out until three a.m. chasing down alead on a story she’d been working on for months. One that had realconsequences for kids from vulnerable communities in Los Angeles. “Can’t itwait a few hours?”

“Didn’t you hear what I said?” Gideon’s voice got even morenasal the more frustrated he became. “Be here before seven. Desk security willbe expecting you.”

“But Gid—”

“Dillon, I don’t have time for handholding. Do you want theassignment or not?”

No, Blake did not want the assignment. She didn’t wantanything to do with the whole celebrity beat. But then her stomach growled,reminding her why she couldn’t say no. Also, there was her journalisticintegrity which she’d somehow managed not to lose entirely, despite spendingthe last few months digging up dirt on Hollywood puppets. Whenever and whereverthe editor said they needed you, you went.

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