Now I know that this is a prank because Milo St. Germaine is a lot of things, but he would never ask a reviewer to change her star rating. Milo doesn’t give a fuck; that’s on the shortlist of redeeming qualities. Okay, and he’s nice to his fans.
“Nice try, clown,” I say, hanging up.
After I hang up, I wonder if I was a little hasty. But no. The man would never bother reading a review from a pissant newspaper from a tiny community college nobody’s ever heard of, would he?
Chapter Six
Milo
She hung up on me. I can’t believe she hung up on me.
I need to try again. I’m old and out of practice.
This time, I’m going in person.
Quickly, I find the newspaper office location on the school’s map, readily available via pdf online. The college should really do a better job of protecting its reporters, and other students for that matter. What if somebody was really pissed about an article? What if a psycho showed up? Or a stalker?
When I arrive at the newspaper office, I’m greeted by a purple-haired kid at the reception desk who, thank goodness, doesn’t give a shit who I am.
“Cecily Williams?”
“Yes, she’s in there.” The receptionist points to an adjacent glass door.
“I can just go in?”
The kid shrugs and nods.
What is with this place? No gatekeepers whatsoever.
I stroll into the newspaper office and spot Cecily right away. Long and leggy, wearing a long, oversized shirt and leggings that cling to her thighs. Even under a layer of lycra, I recognize those thighs—because, yeah, I’m a dirty dog. Her striped shirt hangs off her shoulder in a way that’s too sexy for an office. I realize it’s not a professional office, but I don’t like how some of the guys stare.
I’m not a judgmental fellow. I don’t have strong opinions over what women wear or don’t wear. I’m certainly not one of those guys that accuse women of distracting men with their clothing. But a feral, unevolved urge inside me wants to cover her up and carry her out, slung over my shoulder. Wrapped in a blanket for go
od measure.
Someone editing photos at a computer sees me standing there like a freaking creep, silent and staring at Cecily. He’s about to say something when Cecily spins around because everyone is now staring at me.
Her striking eyes widen when they take me in. “Whoa. I mean, hi?”
I shoot her my brightest smile and extend my hand. “I thought I’d try again since we don’t seem to be able to connect otherwise.”
She squints, then a look of realization comes over her face as she accept my handshake. “Oh no. That was actually you on the phone?”
I shrug like it’s no big deal. I’m lost in the fact that I’m holding her hand in mine. Soft skin. Smooth fingers. It takes all my strength to let go when I sense her pull back.
“I am so sorry. I thought it was a prank. Guys prank me here all the time.”
This throws me off. “They do? How so?”
She hesitates like she’s wondering why I’m asking that. “Oh. Well, you know. Because I’m a journalist, so I’m pretty much everywhere on campus all the time. And plenty of people don’t like the articles I write. The improv team has banned me from their performances until I print a retraction for my article about them. Which I won’t.”
She pauses, waiting for me to get the gist.
“I see. Well, that’s not what I’m doing here.”
She nods, but I still see the skepticism on her face. Based on her experience, I can understand why she’s not buying what I’m selling.
“I would like to give you another opportunity to eat at the restaurant, though.”