"What is going on here?"
Vance immediately disengaged from the impulsive, less-than-two-seconds hug he had shared with Gianna, or rather imposed on her—as her body was yet stiff with surprise at the strength of it, the suddenness of his arms, the way it had stolen her breath for a split second.
What had he been thinking? The question rang loud in Vance's head.
He chewed on his lower lip nervously, teeth worrying the flesh, hands clasped over each other and resting awkwardly at his waist region, fingers tightening and loosening in restless cycles, a tad bit afraid to turn aside and face Mason, whose voice had descended like ice itself.
The director seemed angry.
Was the rumor he heard this morning true then? That Mason liked his mentor?
Vance hoped not. The thought alone made his stomach twist.
"Nothing, Mason."
He heard Gianna say it smoothly, coolly, and wished—absurdly—that he had that confidence she seemed to wear like a suit every time she walked into a room.
