I press my lips together for a few seconds, willing myself not to respond with antagonism. “I do now,” I say, hoping that’s a good enough answer.

The corner of Emmitt’s mouth twitches. “And is there an actual reason you’re bothering me? Don’t beat around the bush. Just ask.”

God, talking to him is impossible. Manners, my ass. “Okay. Why are you here?”

He casts me a sudden look of suspicion. “Why? Are you going to leak it to the tabloids?”

Oh my God. First he thinks I want a picture, and now he’s accusing me of trying to rat him out to the press?

“I could have already exposed you,” I say wryly.

Emmitt doesn’t look appeased. “You might as well have this morning.”

“Right,” I say and force my pride down my throat, past each of my ribs until it’s buried deep inside me. Do it for the short film, I remind myself. “I wanted to apologize for that. I’m sorry for poking fun at the situation. It was rude and uncalled for. I also apologize for my behavior on Friday. I know you think I bumped into you on purpose, but I swear I didn’t. I was having a bad day and I wasn’t watching where I was going. I shouldn’t have taken it out on you.”

He stops walking, watching me with a hooded gaze. I patiently allow him to work through whatever internal dilemma he’s having, doing my best to keep my expression steady.

When the silence stretches too long, I repeat, “I’m sorry,” and resist the urge to throttle him. He keeps staring at me, his brown eyes sharp and too aware.

“You want something from me,” he eventually says, turning away from me and strolling down the hallway, his hands tucked in his pockets.

My lips part, and I stare after him, struggling to comprehend how he could have picked up on that just from looking at my face. “That’s a bold statement.”

“Is it?” he asks, a hint of cruel amusement in his voice. “So you don’t want something?”

I glare at his back. “Okay. Fine. It’s a small favor and I’m willing to repay you with a favor in return.”

He doesn’t say anything, still walking like he doesn’t have a care in the world. I’ve never been more certain that I’m looking a homicide charge in the face.

I can’t help but miss when he was flustered because of me. I vastly prefer that version of Emmitt to the one who just looked me up and down and dismissed me without a second glance once again.

“Our school is applying to the Golden Ivy student film competition,” I say after a moment, giving in to the silence. “You might have heard of it.”

He raises a brow. “Your point being?”