“Beats me.” I laugh. “Just answer the question, teach.”

Glancing at me out of the corner of his eye, the faintest of smirks slides onto his lips at the nickname. “We’ve been together since we were fifteen. Got married right out of high school.”

What’s their relationship like after all these years? Is he happy? Satisfied? I want to ask, but even I know that’d be crossing a line. “Damn. Long ass time.”

“It sure is.” The crooked smile is still on his face as he switches lanes.

His body language or tone of voice is, irritatingly, giving nothing away. What I would give to get inside his head.

“You guys have kids?”

“We do not.”

I nod my head. “Cool, cool.”

“What about you?” He turns his head, meeting my gaze for half a second.

“What about me?”

“Do you have a girlfriend?

“Nope.” My heart hammers at his curiosity. More than likely, he’s just trying to be polite and continue the conversation, but try telling that to the organ in my chest with a mind of its own.

“Boyfriend?”

This makes me laugh. Peering over at him subtly, he’s white-knuckling the steering wheel. “Nah, no boyfriend either. I’m a free agent.”

“Probably smart at your age, especially with school.”

We fall into thoughtful silence after that. So many more questions sit at the tip of my tongue, begging to be asked, but this—the silence, with him—is comfortable. Asking anything else risks shattering that. Eventually, I fall asleep. He wakes me once we arrive at the Hyatt Regency, where we’re staying for the weekend. We check in and head up to our rooms. We’re on the fifth floor, our rooms side by side.

Stone opens his door, shifting his attention to me before entering. With a hand rubbing the back of his neck, he clears his throat. “If you want to relax or shower or, uh, do whatever, we can meet for dinner around six?”

He’s acting weird. Tense. Although, given I’m still half-asleep, I could be imagining it. It’s Stone. He doesn’t do weird or tense. “Sure, that works.”

Chapter Four

Chapter Four

Stone Philips

This was a bad idea.

A catastrophically terrible idea—inviting someone to a convention with me for the entire weekend, whom I think is attractive. Especially when that person is my student and very much not my wife. To make matters worse, his fucking hotel room is right next door to mine. I didn’t even request that. It just happened, like the world is throwing a giant, cosmic fuck you right in my face.