His eyes sparkled as if he really did find me amusing and was trying his hardest to pretend he didn’t. I’d never had to win anyone over like this and I had to admit, it made the small victories more satisfying.

I glanced around the empty hall. “So does the tour end here? Your teacher told me you would show me the department. I feel like this isn’t happening. I’m going to make a report to Taylor that you are a horrible tour guide. I’m moving on to the next Donavan.”

He looked at the palm of his hand and picked at a streak of black ink there. “Did your dad tell you I was a writer?”

“No. Why? Was it on your tutoring résumé?”

“No. I just . . . never mind.” He took a deep breath and straightened his shoulders. “Do you really want to see the rest of the department?”

“Absolutely. I’ve been told all about this thing called a printing press. Where does it live?”

He pointed at a door across the hall, then led the way. “You’re in a good mood today.”

“It’s because you’re not holding an empty homework packet in your hand and expecting me to get it done in an inhuman amount of time.”

“Three hours is hardly inhuman. I think my little sister can get it done faster than you.”

“So you do have a little sister. How old is she?”

“Freshman.”

I rolled my eyes. “You made it seem like she was five. I am no longer offended at you telling me she can finish homework faster than me.”

He stopped outside a door. “Are you ready?”

“Is something shocking going to happen when we go inside?”

He smirked and opened the door. The press was bigger than I expected, with lots of metal bars and handles.

“I totally chose the wrong electives when I was in school. If I went here next semester, I would take whatever the class is that gets to operate this beauty. Do you run this?”

“Sometimes. So you’re saying you wouldn’t take drama?”

“Of course I would. I wouldn’t take math.”

He laughed. “Not sure you can trade math for journalism.”

“I’ll be Lacey Barnes. Famous. They’ll let me do what I want, right?”

“Pretty sure most people already let you do what you want.”

“If that were true, you’d be doing my homework packets for me.” I turned and gave him my best pleading eyes. “It’s not too late for that to happen.”

“Funny.” He watched me walk around the machine twice. “Are you going to go here next semester? When you’re done filming?”

“No, I’m going to finish out my senior year at home.” I wondered if he cared. Why did I care if he cared? I ran my finger along a black knob. “We should print something. A paper that says, Lacey Barnes is the next big thing. That’s some hard-hitting news.”

“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.