It was the first message in three days.
No call.
No acknowledgment.
Not even after the video.
Lance's chest tightened involuntarily. The questions he'd been pushing aside surged back all at once.
Did I do something wrong?
Was it not enough?
Did I misread everything?
He swallowed and stood abruptly.
"Professor Harding.." he said quietly, leaning in. "There's something I need to take care of. I'll be right back."
Harding studied him for a second, then nodded. "Be quick. A keynote speaker shouldn't be late to his own stage."
"I won't be," Lance promised.
He slipped out of the hall, heart pounding harder with every step, and made his way toward the left wing bathrooms, exactly where Ansel had said to meet him.
The restroom was quiet, everyone was inside the hall anyways.
Ansel stood by the sink, drying his hands, posture relaxed like he owned the place.
He looked immaculate, as always with his tailored suit, sharp lines, control written into every inch of him.
