“How much is the increase?” Colin asked.
“Twenty percent, and keep in mind, it was already outrageously high. I don’t know what it’s paying for. The common areas look like shit. The grass in the front of the subdivision hasn’t been mowed in weeks and is starting to seed.”
He placed his hands on the counter and hung his head, looking momentarily defeated, before blowing out a long breath and readjusting.
“These are the joys of home ownership,” a sarcastic smile tweaked his lips, “that make me long for the awesome condo Nina and I had back in Chicago.” He straightened and scooped up the letters and junk mail, then seemed to force himself to be positive. “I don’t miss the taxes, though.”
He strode across the kitchen and sorted the mail into different boxes above the built-in desk, which was our own little mailroom. I rarely got much, but a few times a month, there’d be something from school or a bank statement in the box labeled with my name.
There was nothing for me today, though.
Scott finished his task and turned to leave, but Colin suddenly stood tall, straightening away from the counter he’d been leaning against. “Hey, Scott. Do you have a minute to talk?”
“Sure.” The older man nodded and waved a hand to encourage Colin to follow him into the living room.
Colin’s gaze darted to me, and I didn’t understand his expression. It was like he faced some sort of decision and still hadn’t made up his mind. But then he broke the connection of our gazes and followed Scott out the door.
That was . . . weird.
Was it self-centered to think their discussion was going to involve me?
I’d spent much of the weekend brainstorming what kind of scene I would pitch on Monday night, and how it needed to be something that would pair me with Colin—and no one else.
We hadn’t done that since our audition, and I wasn’t the only one who wanted it.
Petal Productions allowed moderated comments under their videos, and if I ever needed an ego boost, all I had to do was read them.
Annika is FUCKING HOT. But I need more Carter & Annika please.
Yes! They must be together IRL. The chemistry is too good.
The comments gave me an unexpected thrill, and I was glad to know that what I felt with him was coming through onscreen.
On Monday evening, I was still considering a few different storylines for my pitch when my phone’s screen lit up with a text message. Had he known what I was thinking about?
Colin: Do you have time to talk before the meeting?
Madison: Sure.
Colin: Want to meet now? I’m in the dining room.
Madison: Heading down to you.
He was sitting in his usual spot, and it was wild to me how quickly my pulse rushed at the sight of him and his warm smile.
“Hey,” he said as I dropped down into my seat across from him. “I pitched my scene to Nina already, and she’s cool with it, but I need your approval.”
My breath caught. He’d likely need my approval because he wanted me in his scene, and hopefully he couldn’t hear how much I liked that idea. “What’s the pitch?”
“Okay, so . . . you’re a virgin.”
A needle dragged across a record inside my brain. He was well aware I was not a virgin. “Uh, what?”
He made a face, annoyed with himself, but then pushed ahead. “For the story. You’re a virgin, it’s prom night, and I’m your date.” There was a sudden weight to his voice. “It’ll be our first time together.”
I swallowed a breath against the hard clench of my body. His expression hinted at the meaning he buried in his words. Since we’d gotten to know each other, he’d become a different person to me, and kissing had only added to the newness.
The people we were now had never been together.
We needed a new first time.
He rested his arms on the table and leaned over like he wanted to be closer to me. “I figured you could wear that pink dress in your closet, and since we’d be going to all the trouble of getting dressed up,” he shrugged, “we should do something before.”
Awareness washed down through me. “Like what?”
“I dunno.” But he clearly did. “Have dinner.”
“That sounds like a date.”
He let the comment glance off him like he hadn’t heard it. “I didn’t go to my prom, and you didn’t get to go to your sorority formal.” His smile was playful. “Maybe this will help us get into character.”
He knew his argument was a stretch, but I wasn’t going to call him on it. If he wanted to play dress up and have dinner with me? Yes, please. I was all in on that.
But I sat back in my chair and crossed my arms, trying to be cool and pretend like I was considering it. “You’d be my boyfriend in this scenario?”