The Feature

VII

You could feel your pulse in every corner of your body, so strong you were certain that if you looked down, you would see your heart beating through your chest. Your cheeks were flushed hot, your mouth turning dry, lips parted in silence as you stared at him, like your voice had been stolen and he was the thief who took it.

An effect, he'd said. You, Quinn Armitage, had an effect on people? Had an effect on him? You wanted to ask exactly what he meant, but you were too stubborn, too scared to make a fool of yourself any more than you already had. So instead you cleared your throat, feigning confidence as you began to speak.

"Actually, I'm more than aware of the effect I have on people."

"Oh you are...?" he replied, his voice deep and curious.

"Mhm. It usually involves them wanting to throttle me."

He smirked. "I can relate to that urge."

You raised an eyebrow and he let out a breathy laugh.

"Behave," he said.

"I'm trying."

You fell into another silence; eyes locked on each other like you were in a staring contest, waiting to see who would break first. But to your own surprise, it was you who looked away, glancing down bashfully to your lap and fanning your thumb through your notes.

"So I just, er-" You cleared your throat. "I just have a few more questions and then I'll be out of your way."

"No problem," he replied politely, as if he sensed your fluster and had decided to show you mercy.

"So y-your... your new film, er- So your new film comes..." you trailed off, pressing your lips together and closing your eyes. "Sorry. Let me try that again. So your new film comes out... erm, it c-comes-" You stopped again, this time with a huff. "I'm sorry. I just, I have to ask, what effect were you talking about?"

"Hm?"

"You insinuated that I'm here right now because I've had some sort of effect on you. But you never actually told me what that effect is."

He paused in thought, gently sucking his bottom lip into his mouth as he looked at you, head cocked slightly to one side. But as his gaze trailed down to your phone on the table, the voice recording still running, you noticed his demeanour shift; the way he straightened his back, took a breath as he chose his words carefully.

"I think you're very... endearing," he said.

Your lip curled with malcontent. "Endearing...?"

"Yes. You're good to talk to, which is obviously a positive thing when you're an interviewer."

"Right..." you said skeptically. "So after everything that's happened over the last couple of days, you're saying you gave me another chance because I'm... good to talk to?"

He glanced at the phone again, then back to you. "Mhm."

You glared at him, eyes narrowed, assessing him as the voice in your head began to chime, like an angel on your shoulder telling you to let it go, Quinn. But of course you didn't listen to it. You rarely ever did. You might as well have swatted it away as you leant forward, pressing the stop button on the recording.

"Okay," you said. "So now that I've switched that off, are you going to tell me the real reason?"

He waited a moment before responding, crossing one leg over the other and resting his elbows on the arms of his chair. It was as if he knew exactly what he wanted to say, but wouldn't allow the words to surface.