Page 74 of Scandal
A smile tugs at her lips, and she nods. “A little, yeah.”
“I get it.” I mean, I don’t really because I have no actual exes unless you count Kent McMannon from ninth grade. But his hands were sweaty, and his breath smelled like cheese. I dumped him after a week. “Men can make even the most powerful of women make stupid decisions. I have three brothers, believe me.”
“That they do,” she agrees, a sort of camaraderie settling between us. “That they do.”
“So are we all right?” Asher asks.
“Yeah, we’re good.” She smiles. “We’ll be even better if you can figure out how to keep your mother away.”
He chuckles, then pulls out his phone to text Mac. “I can try.”
“Great.” She hits a button on her laptop, then pulls out a pen. “Now, tell me…how did you two meet?”
Despite the disastrous start, the rest of the interview went off without a hitch.
Lana was professional and, dare I say, even polite as she asked us questions about ourselves and our relationship. Asher’s apology seemed to soothe an old wound that desperately needed healing, and once the two of them faced that part of their past, she became easier to work with.
I can see why she is so highly recommended.
Her laid-back approach made me feel like I was speaking to a friend rather than a reporter, and sometimes it was hard to remember I was playing a role.
Especially when Ash was playing his so well.
I look over at him as he scribbles in that notebook once again. His dark hair falls gently in front of his glasses, and he pushes it aside between words. Dinner was a quiet affair tonight, with Stuart noticeably absent. When Asher asked his mother where he was, she simply said the earl was not feeling well and said nothing more.
No one really felt like talking after that.
Tonight, though, is the first time I’ve seen him writing in his notebook in weeks. I was worried he’d given up on the idea altogether, so it gives me a tiny bit of hope to see him with his glasses on and his face bent over the frayed edges, knowing he hasn’t abandoned his old life completely.
I can’t help but wonder whether the musician in him ever really could stop. I somehow doubt it. It makes me think about the way he answered some of the interview questions today. So eloquently. So poetic.
“How did you know how to answer all her questions today?” I ask, pulling his focus from his notebook.
He changed out of his formal attire from dinner the moment we got back to our suite and is now lounging on the chaise ina pair of gray sweats and an old Manic tour tee. “What do you mean?” he asks.
I pull my knees up to my chest in the upholstered chair across from him and watch as his eyes dart to the bare skin of my thighs as my shorts ride up. “Coming up with what to say. It just seemed effortless for you.”
He gives a casual shrug. “That’s because, for the most part, it was.”
I snort out a laugh. “Are you saying lying comes naturally to you?”
“I wasn’t lying. Not about the important things.” I open my mouth to argue, but he beats me to it. “When she asked us how we met, did I lie?”
I think back to his answer. “No. You told her about that night at my parents’ house,” I reply, remembering how cute Lana thought it was, me finally meeting my teenage crush and him falling head over heels for his manager’s daughter. “But you said you were captivated by me from the moment we met. That you couldn’t stop thinking about me.”
His eyes stay steady on mine. “Yes, I did.”
My stomach flutters.
“And when she asked all those specific questions, like ‘What do you admire most about each other?’ or ‘Who’s funnier?’”
He sets his notebook down on the table between us, then those soft blue eyes meet mine again. “Merc, we’ve spent nearly every moment together for a month. Do you think I don’t know you by now? We may not be dating, but I’ve gotten to know you well enough to say for certain you’re far funnier than I am.”
“It’s not that hard.” I shrug, making him bark out a laugh.
“See?”
A sly smirk tugs at my lips before my insecurities get the better of me. “You just seemed to have an answer for everything.”
