Fame, Fate, and the First Kiss(29)

“I would get in serious trouble for that.”

“Would you, though? With those cute boy-next-door looks of yours, I’m pretty sure people let you do what you want, too.”

“No, they don’t, actually. Never.” He opened the door for me, and we stepped back into the hall.

“Never? Here, let’s test it. Ask me for something.” I turned toward him and put my hands behind my back as though patiently waiting for a request.

“Can I go back to class now?”

“No.” I smiled. “Huh. You were right, you don’t have a face that people want to give things to after all. You have to smile.” That’s what tempted me, at least—his smile. No, not tempted me. I wasn’t tempted.

“Ha. Ha.”

I pointed across the hall. “And what’s behind door number three?”

“Graphic design. They help with the layout of the paper.”

“Nice. My dad’s a graphic designer.”

“He is?”

“Yes, he’d love it if I took that class instead.”

“Instead of what?”

“Instead of starring in a movie.”

Donavan’s brow crinkled. “Really?”

I shrugged. “It’s no big deal.” I turned a circle and changed the subject. “So this is your world? What articles do you write for the pap? Is that what you call it, because it felt right.”

“No.”

“You should start calling it that. Any school who still has a physical paper, printed from a printing press, has to call it a pap.”

“Isn’t that a British nickname for paper?”

“Is it? You need to research that. I bet you could write a whole article about it.”

“I bet I couldn’t.”

“Because you write the . . .” I squinted my eyes and studied him. “Current events section?”

“No.”

“What, then?”

The bell rang, and suddenly the halls were full of students. Donavan lifted up his arms as if that would make the crowded hallway easier to navigate and then headed back toward the first classroom we’d been in. I followed closely behind him, hanging on to the back of his shirt.

We made it into the room, and he went to a far station and picked up his backpack. I waved to the teacher. “Thanks for letting me borrow your prize writer. He did a good job selling the journalism department to me.”

The teacher waved in return. “You’re welcome.”

I waited for Donavan, and we exited the class together. He didn’t say a word until we were outside, then he said, “Well, I better—”

“You’re not going to say you better get to class, right? You have to finish my tour.”

“That was pretty much the whole department.”

“I want to see it all, baby. The whole campus.”

“I’ll be late to class.”

I gave an exaggerated eye roll. “Please. You are a hard-hitting journalist. You don’t care about rules. You sneak into abandoned buildings and bust drug dealers.”

“Or run away from them,” he said.

“Besides, Taylor in the front office gave me permission to have you as my tour guide.” I held up my visitor’s badge. “I’m an official guest here. Now, show me your favorite place.”

“I don’t really have a favorite place . . . and if I did, it would probably be the room we just left.”

“Okay, then show me what my favorite place would be if I went here.”

I thought he was going to say no, but he stood there for a moment, looking at me. I wondered if he was still trying to process my face without makeup. Then he said, “Okay.” He turned in the opposite direction from where we had been headed, and I took several quick steps to catch up. I wondered which building housed the theater department. That’s where he was going to take me, I was sure of it.

He marched me inside the largest building and, sure enough, at the end of the hall were two sets of double doors. Above the doors were the words Edwards Theater. As predictable as this choice was, I was actually excited to go stand on a big stage. It had been a while. But instead of heading for those double doors, he peeled off to the right and up a set of stairs and then another. We climbed four flights without exchanging a word, until we got to a single door at the top.

“That was my cardio for the day,” I said.

He took a card out of his pocket, waved it in front of a black square on the door, and when it lit green, he opened it.

“Okay, who are you and where are you taking me?”

“This is the student gardens.”

I stepped through the door and onto the rooftop. Bordering the entire edge of the roof were pot after colorful pot of plants. In the center were several groupings of lounge-like areas with couches and coffee tables and more plants. Several students sat around reading or doing homework. The view over the campus from up here was incredible.

I waved my hand at Donavan’s pocket, where he’d stored the key to the door. “Why? What?”

“You have to earn access.”

“How?”

“Grades and a teacher recommendation and extracurriculars and seniors only.”

“Wow. This is amazing.” I slowly walked around, taking in the different plants and what I now saw was art displayed around as well. “But this wouldn’t be my favorite place if I went here.”