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"I don’t know…ha--" I stop, a look of surprise on my face because I literally don’t knoord to say next I shrug, thenaround at s It should be easy to move out; I’ve barely made this room my own

"Just tell me Whatever it is, whatever that was Just tell irl who rules the playground

I let s take in as much air as they’ll hold My iant reset button for the body I’ve been breathing a lot lately, and so up to the same shit

He doesn’t make me talk until I’m ready And we spend al to open ain and putting ure this out

My lips are parted, and I feel Houston’s hand slide over ins buzzing on the bed next to me The number reads UNKNOWN

I pick it up and hold it into answer or not Then Houstonmy phone fro at his mouth

"Hold on, letthe phone down to his lap, cupping it

"Are you here?" he whispers

I look to the phone in his hand

You’re going to get a call from the Herald Tribune

I nod yes, and Houston handsa boirl," he whispers "I swear to god I’ll still think she’s beautiful"

My lips twitch into a smile from his words He’s ridiculous Lovely and ridiculous

"This is Paige," I say Long, deep breath I straighten--on the outside

"Yes, hi…Paige Owens, correct?" The voice on the other end of the line is an older worowing tighter waiting for her to get to her point

"Great, thank you I’ editor here at the Herald Tribune A couple o, one of our reporters received an email with some pictures that pretty clearly shooe a…faoddamned memory--those pictures…in my hand, on the phone pressed toto be frank," Roberta continues "We don’t do gossip here And et involved But one of our reporters has been working on a story for years involving the Caot a call frole person orks here for reporting these photos--ere a little less inclined to dismiss them"

"Okay?" I say, in a question I’m still not certain how this affects et to that part

"I know you took these photos, Paige," she says, like a punch inanonyo on the record We will protect your name, as best we can, as an inside source But we’re at a point with the other stories…we have to have everything nailed down and buttoned up If we open this, we have to be ready to fight"

I heard her question Houston didn’t He’s still holdingsoftly over my knuckles His thumb feels so nice Why can’t I just sit here and feel his thuo on the record? Why am I even in a situation where I have to think about records? For a brief second, I think about how easy it would be to do what Chandra asked--tell her I rong But I wasn’t wrong And as e--I still feel like I’uy in this one

"I’ll still think you’re hot," Houston whispers, one eyebrow raised He’s being playful, and I’ht think this is just Greek-system politics, but it’s not

"You won’t use my name?" I repeat Houston’s cheek dimples with his smile