Page 27 of Pretty Obsessed

“What?” I asked.

“You.” He shook his head rather than explain what he meant. “It was a shock to all of us at first. None of us were ready for how big we got or how fast.” He gestured for me to follow as he stepped off the elevator. “But our label got us training. They do it with most celebrities. Coaching on media and fans and interviews. Do they not for writers?”

The hall was empty. I had to guess they had the whole floor reserved.

“No, I think they assume since we write well, we know how to not act stupid? No clue. There are some authors who could definitely use it.” I laughed, thinking of the peers I’d seen make asses of themselves in person and on Twitter.

“I guess they don’t expect you guys to be in front of the camera much.” He opened his phone and held it to the door, opening it to a large living area. I’d seen a lot of pictures online of fancy hotel rooms and this one was right out of influencer Instagram territory. The view of the city out the back drew me. I walked past him and to the massive windows.

“Wow.”

“It’s a beautiful city.”

“It is.” I turned to find him filling two glasses with soda water. “You’ve actually read my books?”

Lots of people liked to say they’d read you when they hadn’t, and I never expected most adults to have read something made for young adults.

He gave a single nod, taking a long pull from his glass. “Yes and someone bought the rights for a television show, as well I’ve heard.”

“It doesn’t mean it will be made, but it’s a good first step. They’re in preproduction but moving well.”

“You should be proud. They’re good books. I believe they will be made into movies. Your fan base is all about it.” He handed me the second glass.

“I’m trying not to think about them until they start filming. I try to keep my hopes reserved.” I took it and cupped it in both hands. “You read a lot of YA?”

“We spend a lot of the time on the road, on planes and tour busses. Lots of time for reading. I consume anything well-written.” He didn’t make it into a big deal.

But it was a big deal. I’d been on so many dates with guys who told me they didn’t read at all.

“Does it surprise you?” he asked, going to take a seat on one of the sofas in the middle of the room. The bedroom was tucked away behind a closed door.

“It does, actually. I hate to admit it, but I swear to you it’s not because you’re what you are.” I gestured at him. “It’s because so few people read anymore.”

“Enough to sell millions of copies of your books.” He sat back and crossed an ankle over his knee.

“I am the exception not the rule.” I thought about sitting across from him to give myself some space, but who was I kidding? I’d come here to keep kissing him. Why would I willingly give off conflicting signals?

I took the seat next to him and set my drink on the end table.

“Hello there.” He skimmed a finger over my thigh. “You know we don’t have to do anything. I didn’t invite you here with a sole purpose in mind.”

“Why did you invite me here?”

“Are you flipping things on me, asking all the questions now?” he asked, a hint of amusement to his tone. Every word he spoke amped up the sexual tension between us. I felt like I was about to snap.

“Turnabout is fair. So answer the question.” I gulped down the beverage, like that could cool the fire burning in my chest.

“I invited you here because I spent all of last night trying to figure out how to get ahold of you, but no such luck. Going to the club was a last-ditch effort.”

His reply left me speechless. “Oh.”

He lowered his gaze, turning the glass in his hands. “Does it bother you?”

“No…” I found it—attractive—the effort in it. “It’s nice to hear.”

His gaze found mine again. “It was nice to kiss you, but I enjoy our conversation as much.”

“That probably shouldn’t turn me on, but it does.” I laughed and raised up on one knee pivoting to bring myself closer to him.

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