I looked up.
Ellis was watching me instead of the camera.
“Life.”
“Very specific.”
“You asked about the book, not for a dissertation.”
“I’ve got time.”
“Some of us have businesses to run.”
“So I’ve heard.”
I smiled and opened the book, flipping through pages I’d read enough times to know where certain scenes lived.
“The characters feel like real people,” I said. “That’s probably what I like most. They have entire lives outside of each other. Family. Friends. Work. Things they want that have nothing to do with falling in love.”
The camera clicked.
I looked up.
“Ellis.”
“Keep talking.”
“You just tricked me.”
“I’m working.”
“You asked me about the book so I’d stop paying attention.”
“Is it working?”
“No.”
Click.
I tried not to smile.
“Yes.”
“Then keep talking.”
I told him about the book.
Not the entire plot, because despite what he seemed to think, I did have some self-control. But enough that I eventually stopped noticing when the camera clicked.
“Sounds frustrating.”
“It was.”
“But you love the book.”
“That’s why it was frustrating.”
“I don’t understand readers.”