Page 68 of Royal Havoc

“Exactly,” he agrees, chuckling at my shocked face. “That’s off the record.” He winks.

Am I losing my mind, or is he for real?

“For a newbie, it sounds like you’ve got it all figured out,” I tell him, allowing myself to loosen up a little.

He shakes his head. “I’d say it’s more that we don’t jive well.” He must notice my confusion. “Carver hates me,” he clarifies jokingly.

“Why?”

Another smile fills his lips. “My guess, is because I’m not impressed by him, or his precious money,” he whispers.

Why does it feel like we’re sharing intimate secrets?

“But…” he starts again, getting my full attention. “It doesn’t seem like you are either.”

I can’t help but giggle at his raised brows. “Nope, Vex doesn’t scare me,” I confirm.

Until recently.

Shut up, I’m not scared. Just worried about his choice-making skills.

“And elevators?” he teases.

“Moving metal boxes are different,” I joke.

“Just moving ones?”

“Fine. Moving or still, small spaces are weird,” I admit.

“Agreed.” He smiles, watching me across the table.

His phone starts to vibrate, and he silences it after glancing at the screen. Our eyes meet momentarily, then his brows dip, and he swallows hard, debating something.

Before either of us can speak, it starts vibrating again. “I’m sorry. If I don’t answer, he’s just going to blow me up.”

Leaning back in my chair. “It’s fine,” I assure him, totally relating.

Quickly swiping his screen before raising the phone. “Hey, Ollie,” he answers. “I’m with a student,” I hear him say before he peeks over at me.

I rush to turn my head, pretending I’m not listening to everything he says. Suddenly, the titles of the horror books surrounding us become very interesting.

“It’s all good. Calm down. Hold on.” He stands. “I’ll be right back,” he informs me, waiting until I nod.

He’s gone long enough for me to doodle a little and check the time on my phone.

“Sorry about the interruption. Could we maybe finish this tomorrow?” he asks after sitting down.

“Um… tomorrow’s Saturday.”

He sighs, rubbing his forehead. “Oh, right.” Looking embarrassed.

“No, I just mean —”

“Over coffee?” he blurts, cutting me off.

Gathering my stuff, trying to avoid seeing him. “I’ll have to check —”

“We could exchange numbers. If you’re free, you could text me. I just feel horrible that I’m the reason you can’t work on yourpaper.” Rubbing his forehead again. “Maybe I should allow you to pick someone else. This way —”

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