“I can’t tell you something I don’t know,” I answer, watching Vance sip coffee from a Philadelphia Eagles travel mug like a king drinking from a flask on his throne. The four of us stare at him, unaware that we’re even doing it until he looks up and catches us. We all look away at the same time, but he saw us.

“Shit, now he’s gonna come over here and say something stupid,” Juliana groans.

“Fuck him,” Shay says as the three of them turn their attention back to me. “So, there’s nothing left to tell, girl? You’re just waiting on Nathan to call you?”

“Not really,” I reply, remembering that everyone thinks Nas’s name is Nathan. “Even though the night didn’t end the way I wanted it to, I still had a good time, and we talked about more than just surface stuff. It was fun. I guess I was just hoping it ended with more of a bang.”

“Meaning, you literally wanted to bang,” DeShaun says before laughing by himself. The rest of us frown at his terrible joke.

“Sometimes I forget you’re a man until you say stuff like bang,” Juliana jokes. “Anyway, if Nathan asked for your number I’m sure he’ll call. Just give it some time. Don’t get disappointed yet.”

“Disappointed about what?” Vance’s voice cuts through the air like a giant sword.

“Damn you nosy!” DeShaun barks with a look of disgust plastered on his face.

“Hi, Vance,” I say, just so he won’t address DeShaun with an attitude.

“Hello, Alina. How have you been?” Vance asks, ignoring the rest of the group who all try to kill him with their glares.

I keep my response short and sweet. “Fine.”

Vance nods just long enough to make the silence awkward before saying, “Cool. Can I see you in my office? We need to go over the images for the column.”

“Sure,” I say, standing up. “Talk to you guys later.”

“Later,” Juliana says for the group. The rest of them wave as I follow Vance into his office where he sits behind his desk, and I take a seat in one of the two royal blue chairs in front of him.

Vance takes a second to stare at me without speaking. I know what I’m here for, but it’s obvious he wants to say something else instead of just moving forward with the work we need to accomplish for his column. I’ve already sent him my folder of images, and all he has to do is take his beady little eyes off me and look at the zip file I sent just a bit ago. It could all be so simple, but nothing is as simple as it should be with Vance Whiteman.

“So, last week was tough, huh?” he starts, and I exhale, fighting every cell in my body that wants to roll my eyes.