Page 28 of Guarded Love

Knox grins. "That's my favorite quality."

I roll my eyes but can't help smiling. "Later, loser."

The door closes behind me, and I exhale slowly, as if I’d been holding my breath the entire time. The relief that I feel from having that part of the interview over is quickly cut short when I realize I still have to reach out to Blaise and figure out whenand where we can meet up so I can have quotes from him in this article.

And we will more than likely have to do it alone.

8

WILLOW

With a heavy sigh, I rub my hands across my face because I’m annoyed. Even with my headphones on, I’m drowning in noise at Brewed Beginnings. The espresso machine is steamrolling my brain and cups are clinking loud enough to cause a headache. Slamming my head down on my keyboard might be a better alternative. Plus, it would put me out of my misery.

But I need to do this. I need to focus and finish this article on the student housing issues at Crestwood. I stare at the cursor flashing on my laptop screen next to an unfinished quote but my mind is on the interview I held with my brother and his hockey teammates last night.

The interview that's missing one crucial voice.

I take a sip of my now-lukewarm coffee and make a stank face. The caffeine isn't helping my focus. If anything, it's making the thoughts in my head race faster, which makes working even harder.

Someone drops something on the ground, causing me to flinch so hard my knee bangs against the underside of the table. Great. Now I have physical pain to match the mental.

"Damn it," I mutter, yanking my headphones off. The music wasn't helping anyway.

I check my phone. No new messages. Not that I was expecting any from him. Not that I even texted him in the first place. Which I should have done already if I was being professional about this whole thing.

"You look like you're contemplating murder," a voice says above me.

I look up to find Ari sliding into the seat across from me and placing a cranberry muffin that she purchased and utensils in front of her. Her eyebrows are raised in that way that tells me she's about to psychoanalyze my entire existence.

Groovy.

"Maybe I am," I reply, closing my laptop with more force than necessary. "The housing article is kicking my ass."

Ari tilts her head. "Uh-huh. And I'm sure that's the only thing on your mind right now."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

She shrugs off her coat. "I watched you stare at that document as I was walking up and your face has cycled through approximately seventeen different emotions, none of which scream 'I'm focused on student housing.'"

I hate how well she knows me.

"I'm just..." I start, then stop. What am I, exactly? Annoyed? Distracted? Unreasonably fixated on someone who clearly went out of his way to avoid me for years and now I need to contact him in order to write an article for the school newspaper.

"Waiting for inspiration to strike?" Ari offers, cutting the muffin in half and sliding half across the table to me like a peace offering.

"Something like that," I mumble before I stuff a piece of food in my mouth. The sweetness might help my brain function again. Maybe.

Ari narrows her eyes at me, her dark gaze missing nothing. "This wouldn't have anything to do with a certain hockey player missing from your interview last night, would it?"

I nearly choke on the muffin. "We don’t have to bringhimup.”

"But I will because you're sitting here looking like someone deleted your thesis the night before it was due, and as I already said, it’s not about student housing."

I swallow hard, forcing the muffin down my suddenly dry throat. "It's unprofessional. That's all."

"What is? The fact that he didn't show up or the fact that you care?"

"I don't care," I snap, then immediately regret it when Ari raises a single eyebrow. "Fine. I care about the article. I need quotes from all the seniors for this feature, and he's making it difficult. Not that it’s actually his fault because he did have prior plans. Why do I feel a crash out brewing over something so silly?"