Autumn Flame (Seasons #2 )

Chapter 5: Behind the Blue Curtain

"You don't have a girlfriend, you got a crush," explains Preston as he checks his phone for the gazillionth time. "I have a girlfriend," he says anxiously, his bulky frame practically vibrating with excitement.

"She'll be here any minute, chill," I tell him. "And yeah, you're right. It's a crush." I smile to myself.

A crush.

That's nice. Crushes are good and healthy and positive. I like having a crush.

A gentle knock raps on the door and Preston shoots up from his beanbag like the thing's a cannon. He opens the door with the biggest smile. Felicity is a blur of blonde hair and shrieks as she drops her bags and jump-straddles him. They immediately start making out and moving toward Preston's room.

"Welcome back, Fel," I wave.

"Hi, Rhys," she mumbles between showering Preston with kisses.

"You two are disgusting," I laugh.

She giggles as Preston pulls her into his room and slams the door shut behind them.

"See you at dinner!" I shout. I don't think they hear me.

I sigh.

My phone has a bunch of random notifications that I scroll through as I get dressed for a jog. One catches my eye.

There's something you should know.

I check when it was sent. Three minutes ago. Unknown number.

Who is this, I write back.

You don't know about Melanie, but maybe it's time that you do.

My neck prickles. "What the hell..."

I type up a reply. I don't know who this is, but you're not funny.

I shake my head and throw my phone in my pocket, headphones in my ears and head out.

I take the subway up to 59th and Lex, and beeline for Central Park. It is brilliant this time of year. The colors are every shade of red, and the tourists have gone back to their countries, leaving the Park to us residents.

My run takes me past the zoo and up to Sheep's Meadow. Before I know it, I'm looping the Lake.

Out of breath, I take out one headphone and stop to stretch.

My phone buzzes again.

Meet me tonight at Vanderbilt Veil.

I frown and type. I'd first need to know who I'm talking to.

For several long minutes, there comes no reply. I look up frustrated.

"What's the trouble?"

I look up and find the voice belongs to none other than Mr. Beaufort Wesley Jameson III of Tagilvy. "Mr. Jameson! I mean, Mr. Beau."

He's dressed head to toe in black running gear, except for the shoes that are a vibrant, neon green and popsicle orange. The man's got style in and out of the boardroom.

"Mr. Vance, correct?" he gives me a dazzling smile, breathing heavily as he bounces from one foot to the other. "Marvelous day for a run, isn't it?"

"It is sir," I reply, pausing with my arms akimbo.

"And yet," he eyes me, "something's got you bothered, I can tell."

I sigh, shuffling my feet. "Just stupid stuff."

He takes a deep breath, filling his chest and surveying the lake. "Take it from an old man. Whatever might be weighing on you now, on this kind of beautiful day in the greatest city in the world," he says with his arms wide, "All you need to do is look up. I bet you'll find something that will add a bit more bounce to your step." He winks at me before clapping my shoulder, and zooms onward. "I look forward to seeing your submission."