Free Notorious by Cecily von Ziegesar Page A

shook her head. “Have you been down there yet?” The film room was one of the sexiest places on campus, with expensive leather reclining theater chairs, a fourteen-foot-wide screen, high-tech lighting, and surround sound. There were only about twenty seats, so it was intimate, like the kind of private screening room a Hollywood director might have in his Beverly Hills mansion.
    “No, I haven’t.” Eric looked intrigued. “I didn’t even know Waverly had something like that—they certainly didn’t in my day.”
    “You should definitely check it out.” She thought of how exciting it would be to sit in the dark with Eric, watching something sexy and dramatic like
Body Heat
on the big screen. Or not watching it. Out in the hall, some band geeks were discussing which songs they needed to perfect for homecoming. Losers.
    “You know what I think?” Eric asked, planting his elbows on the desk. She could imagine a few things he must be thinking. She shifted gracefully in her seat and refrained from playing with her hair, a gesture she thought girls overused when trying to get guys’ attention, and instead concentrated on holding his gaze, which was more difficult than she expected. His eyes seemed to bore into her. “I think you are one of those very rare people who have so many talents, they have a hard time deciding on the right ones to use.”
    That was cryptic. What did that mean, the
right ones?
“I’m not sure I know what that means,” she said coolly, tugging her skirt down over her knees.
    “Nothing bad,” he quickly assured her, flashing her an intimate smile. “Just that you’re smart and good at everything you do. I’m just trying to find out what turns you on.”
    Tinsley was suddenly encouraged. Without any prompting, she spent the next ten minutes elaborating on her experience in Cape Town and Johannesburg and the thrill of making a documentary in a country with such a shocking contrast of opulent wealth and desperate poverty living right on top of each other while it was still in the process of defining its post-apartheid identity. The excitement of watching an entire nation try to figure itself out inspired her and made her wish she could make more documentaries, maybe even one about this messed-up country of her own. It had been a high-intensity summer. She could feel her cheeks glow as she spoke, and she felt comfortable and excited. The words just tumbled out of her.
    Eric nodded and jotted a few notes down on his pad. She noticed he had a few very faint freckles on the planes of his cheekbones.
    Tinsley stopped talking abruptly. “Am I boring you?”
    “Not a bit.” Tinsley could imagine the two of them in a café in France, sipping their third espressos and unable to end their conversation. “Have you read the Fitzgerald story ‘The Offshore Pirate’?”
    Tinsley shook her head, her black hair gently swishing back and forth against her blouse.
    “You remind me of the main character.” His deep gray eyes glimmered, as if there was something else he wanted to say. Tinsley waited, but he didn’t say it.
    “Well, I hope that’s a compliment.” She laughed, already planning to head to the library between classes to check out the story. Being compared to a Fitzgerald heroine could be an insult, but she had a pretty good feeling that it wasn’t. “Listen, I hate to leave, but I think I should be getting to class.” She stood reluctantly.
    “Anytime you need anything.” Eric looked like he was trying hard to keep his face neutral. “You know where I am.” He stood and moved toward the door, glancing at his Cartier tank watch on his right wrist. Next to it was a platinum-engraved gate-link bracelet. Without thinking, Tinsley reached out to touch it. Dalton seemed a little surprised by her sudden movement, but he didn’t pull away.
    “This is gorgeous,” she said breathlessly, her fingertips tracing the delicate link design. “My father had one exactly like this that was stolen.