46

Kassie

Voted Class Jailbait

Of all the games to have plans during, why did Ryan pick KYU?

I sat on the bench outside the restaurant, glued to my phone. We were neck and neck. It was the closest the score had been with any game during the entire season. Every time someone had a lead, the other team inched up. And I was missing every second of it.

"Come on, take me off hold," I muttered, refreshing the score. "June, come on—"

"Sorry, the gate isn't working," June's bouncy voice buzzed through. "I left to get a picture and now I'm locked out."

"How're they doing?" I pressed.

"They're fine, Kassie. They're huddled—"

"Nobody's hurt?" I blurted out. "Why's the score so close?"

"KYU is—"

"I should be at the damn watch party." I put my head in my hand.

Of course I was excited to finally meet Henry Miller, and nervous to show him the project I'd been working on to impress the graphic design department, and I was about three seconds away from throwing up on the pavement. But why did that damn quarterback have to make the dinner the same day as game night? I chewed my bottom lip.

"Is Ryan hurt?"

"It's like playing telephone with you two," June huffed.

I stared off into the dark parking lot. "What is?"

"Kassie, I've got you calling every five minutes, and any time a football player gets a hold of me, it's a message from Ryan, demanding to know how you're doing. Can't you two text each other—let's think about this— after the game?"

There wasn't even the sound of my three-inch heels to save me from the embarrassment. I rubbed the fabric of my dress between my fingers, trying to figure out how to respond.

"What'd you tell him?"

Her sigh echoed in the call.

"June—"

"Are you serious?" June demanded. "Kassie, I'll tell him a lot more once you, oh—I don't know— walk in ."

Damn.

I nodded, slowly, ruefully, the kind of nod where you thank the stars that the other person on the line can't see you nod. She had a point, even if I didn't like it.

"Okay. Fine ."

It took a little longer to get enough courage to head back inside and another five to walk down the hall, super slow-motion style.

Ryan was fine. I'd seen him get slammed in the chest by guys during practice. I'd even seen him jump up to remind them to keep in a tighter formation right after. The ball dribbler was fine. This was a run-of-the-mill Saturday for him.

"Ms. Ragar?" A photographer hurried in from the hallway. "Henry Miller's here."

This was the opportunity for me. It was the chance I'd been waiting for and what I should've been focusing on.

Ryan was a grown-up. An adult.

He can take care of himself.

And I was finally getting to meet one of the people I aspired to be, animator and showrunner of half a dozen successful projects. This was everything I wanted to become .

I had to remember my future. Not worry about Ryan's present.

"He's walking in, ma'am."

It was the kind of dinner I'd have for the rest of my career. This night was for every cash register I'd ever sworn over, every dish I'd ever scrubbed. It would all be worth it.

The moment Henry Miller walked through the door, I shot out of the chair. Tall with a thick mustache and a gleaming white smile, he took one look at me, and a grin split across his lips.

I offered him my hand. "Mr. Miller, it's so good to—"

"Pleasure's all mine." He pulled my hand forward, and before I knew what was happening, he crushed me into a hug.

Oh.

A hug.

I froze and made eye contact with the photographers who stared in puzzled silence. Truth be told, I was never a hugger. My personal space was the best space. But don't people in the same types of jobs hug? Zariah hugged her other resident assistants at her celebration dinner and she'd only known them through orientation meetings.

I awkwardly patted his back. "You've got no idea how much I've wanted to meet you."

"Little old me?" His hand trailed down my back before he finally pulled away. "Look at you. You're in college, right? What did they vote you for in high school? Class jailbait?"

You could've heard a cricket from the parking lot.

"I'm kidding everyone." Henry threw up his hands in mock surrender. "That was a joke . Do you know what a joke is?" He smiled and I tried to return it but I wasn't sure whatever crawled on my face was a smile. "You're the little voice actor that sent the telegram, right?"

"Animator," I corrected him.

I took a hesitant seat after he sat down. He'd thrown me off but I could still salvage the dinner.

"Mr. Miller, I love what you've done with the recent Bird Pants season." I tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. "It honestly made me rethink what I could—"

He laughed when the waiter tried to pour water. "This is on Marrs, isn't it? Let's bring some champagne!"

We were spiraling away from where I wanted to go. "I'm fine with water."

"Look at her, so professional. We're about to make all your voice-acting dreams come true. I swear, your voice is like a purr."

"I said animator."

"You don't have to get your panties in a bunch. That's for your boyfriend to try. He's the one that arranged this, isn't he?"

The hopeful look in his eyes made my throat dry. He was fishing for answers. Trying to figure out if Ryan was actually my boyfriend. And that was the worst part. Henry Miller knew I was uncomfortable. We both knew it, we both recognized it, and he languished in it.

Ryan wasn't my real boyfriend. But I knew he wouldn't have tolerated this.

And I won't either.

"Excuse me." I grabbed my purse.

"Hey, wait a minute—"

"Goodnight," I snapped.

"Let's not be hasty."

"Class jailbait?" I demanded. "That's what you have to say to me?"

"I've been here for two minutes, sweetheart—"

"You know the horror movie shorts you made in college?" I demanded, glaring at him. "I watched all of them because I wanted to support and it was the most goddamn painful fifteen minutes of my life."

Henry reached out for my wrist, and for one terrifying moment, I couldn't pull away. "You are making a huge fucking mistake."

"Let go of me," I hissed.

"You don't know what you're doing."

" Let go of me! "

"Don't make a scene!"

The photographers jumped up and rushed to pull us apart. Someone had their hands on my shoulders. The moment I was free, I stumbled backward. Henry wasn't much better off.

"Fuck you," I snarled. "Fuck you and you're stupid fucking jailbait jokes!"

The anger was so easy to hold on to but the moment I walked out of the door, it was just pure, overwhelming misery. Cleo kept one of the university cars in the parking lot and I asked the driver to take me back to campus but all I wanted was to see Ryan drive up. The only person I needed to talk to was punting stupid cowhide balls across some white lines in Oklahoma of all places.

Realistically…that was probably the worst thing I could've done during the dinner. My big dream was to work for Henry Miller's animation studio and I just slam-dunked that dream into the garbage.

Did I do the right thing?

I didn't know and I didn't want to deal with it.

I could've walked back to my own apartment but some of my roommates were there. What could I say to them? Zariah was a screenwriting major, the rest were art people. They wouldn't recognize him but they all knew who Henry Miller was. It'd be hell to explain and it was so mortifying and so depressing and just awful all around.

Roman Villa wasn't quiet but everybody was too busy with their own plans to worry about bothering me. I slipped past the desk assistant station and made my way up to Ryan's floor. I couldn't get into his dorm but I sat on one of the chairs in the lounge, with my knees up to my chin.

I wouldn't make it to the watch party.

The whole night was an expertly crafted shit sandwich.

What little light from the outside faded from the big windows. I turned away from it for a long, long time. I didn't turn back until the elevator doors opened.

The one voice I wanted to hear sounded firm. "Call Cleo again."

"We did, she didn't pick up," someone replied.

"Then call Miles."

Someone else spoke. "Mr. Cross, she said the car already dropped its passenger."

"When—?"

I pushed up from the chair. What was I supposed to say to him? Now that he was here, I was at a loss for words. I took a deep breath, unable to lodge the lump in my throat, and walked out of the lounge.

"Hey, Ryan," I croaked.