“It’s… good. My professors are interesting, and I like learning new things. But college is way different from high school. The papers I could have churned out and made an A on in high school are C papers at best in my current classes. It’s challenging, but in a good way. It’s making me better, I think.”
He took another bite of salad, his brows furrowed as he thought. “I’m glad I took the summer classes the last two summers. I’d been worried that if I didn’t throw myself all in, I’d find some reason not to finish. But I’m on track to graduate early.”
There was a hitch in his voice at the end that I couldn’t help but notice. Before I could push, though, Channing changed the subject.
“So, the show is a success. Congrats on that. God, Dane loves to visit on campus so all of my classmates will treat him like a star. If only they knew how ridiculous he truly is.”
I chuckled. Dane was one of the stars, though I’d seen enough fan sites to know each of my employees had a devoted following. One of my favorite things to do was hunt down the fan fiction written about them and send it to them. I’d found a particularly juicy one a few months ago shipping Javi and Dane, and they hadn’t been able to look at each other for a week. It might be subtly evil, but I needed some form of amusement in between all my paperwork.
“He’s definitely ridiculous,” I agreed. “I still get weirded out when people recognize me from the show in public. I don’t feel like a celebrity—and besides the cameras, nothing’s really changed in the shop.”
Channing nodded. “Yeah, I think that’s what’s strange for me, too. Like, I know all of you. Dane’s just a normal guy. Well, not normal, but you know what I mean. So when people on campus ask for his autograph, it’s like ‘Wait, what?’”
I was still chuckling when our main courses came, and I couldn’t help but notice that Channing had ordered tofu in his dish. I’d never tried the stuff. The words “bean curd” tended to remind me of “stomach curdle.” My own beef and broccoli was steaming in its personal-sized wok.
“Want some?” I asked, pointing to it.
“Sure, but just a bit. I’ve told Dane a few times that I’m trying to really cut down on my meat consumption, but he’s in denial—he said meat is the largest food group.” We shared a smile until Channing pointed at his dish. “You should try some of mine, too.”
My stomach did a flip. “Tofu… freaks me out.”
Channing stared at me. “Big, bad Reagan is scared of tofu?”
“I didn’t say scared,” I replied, pointing my chopsticks at him. “I said it weirded me out.”
Channing’s eyes twinkled mischievously. “Well, you have to try it now. Go ahead. You need some more experience, Reagan.”
It was a soft punch to the gut, and some pain lingered even after the initial blow faded. He was teasing, I was sure of it. But I remember how the hurt had been etched into every beautiful feature of Channing’s face when I’d rejected him at his graduation party.
He’d looked like a wounded animal, and I realized that I’d been waiting all of this time for him to snap back at me for what I’d done, something direct and harsh and hurt. Instead, he was aiming soft hits below the belt—and, God help me, part of me felt like I deserved it.
So instead of saying anything to that, I took a piece of tofu and popped it in my mouth before I could think too hard on what I was doing. Channing met my gaze, challenging me to a stare-down as I chewed. It was…
Not terrible. I mean, it was no steak, but there was an unexpected chewiness and texture to the tofu that I found I liked, and I tasted the flavor of the sauce more than anything else. It was fiery hot; my mouth tingled, and Channing waited with a knowing smirk. The burning in my chest had little to do with the spiciness of his dish.
“And?” Channing asked, leaning forward. I resisted the urge to lean toward him, like he was my gravity.
“It’s not bad,” I admitted. “But I’m not sure I’ll be ordering it on the regular.”
“Well, I’m proud of you for trying,” he quipped. “Such a brave man.”
“Oh, hush up,” I growled, unable to keep from teasing back. Then, I swallowed my