#donovan maxwell.

he'd noticed her from the moment she fell in line behind the other fans to ask his panel a question. had eagerly listened and made sure to provide an insightful answer that she could turn over and over in her head after they parted. what donovan doesn't expect is to find himself thinking of her long after their encounter, so when he runs into her the next day at the hotel breakfast, he can't help but step up to her and say hello. "you were the one who asked the really cool question yesterday," he says—not a question, but a statement of a fact. standing in her presence, donovan feels like the luckiest man on earth. what were the odds, really, that they'd run into each other again, considering the amount of attendees at the convention? "it's great to see you again. i hope my answer didn't disappoint?"

"i want this. you want this. i don't see why we have to keep denying ourselves of this."

"you really want me to believe that a girl like you came out here on a night like this—alone? yeah, right. i bet the line right outside is for you. your adoring fans waiting for a turn to kiss your hand, yeah? what'd i gotta do to cut in line?"

couldn't believe it. couldn't fucking believe what he was seeing. he climbs up the stairs just right behind them, grabbing her wrist and stopping her from venturing any deeper into the house with the twat of a stranger. "you're fucking kidding me, right?" he seethes. "what the fuck do you think you're doing?"

❝ it's always my fucking fault with you, isn't it ? i never do anything right in your eyes. ❞

"i'm sorry, what? he said what to you?"