“You really don’t have to do this.”

“You don’t want it?” I ask, trying not to look crestfallen.

“Oh, it’s not that; I just don’t want to take advantage of your kindness,” she says with a wink and a sexy smile.

Is she flirting with me?

My stomach flip-flops as I try to think how to respond. Then I remember a line I heard once.

“Okay, I’ll make an agreement. I’ll only do it when I want to.”

Hey, that sounded smooth. I smile as I shift nervously from foot to foot, watching for her reaction.

She smiles at me then lifts the cup to study today’s drawing of her.

This time I’ve sketched her on the cup with a “B” on her chest like Superman’s “S” and a cape flapping behind her.

“How did you know I was a superhero?” she asks teasingly. “That’s top secret information.”

“Well, I’m one too, so of course I sensed it with my super powers.”

“Yes, of course,” she agrees, playing along. “How’s the show coming along?”

“Oh fine. We got stuck with extra footage this week but it’s do-able. At least I like this script…it’s got good timing and some really funny stuff.”

“That’s great,” she responds happily.

Wow, this is like a real conversation.

Then there’s an awkward moment of silence as my mind races with what to say next. “By the way,” I stammer, pointing at the print above her desk. “I love your Iron Giant artwork. It’s a great design with the cold-war propaganda look. I am a huge fan of that film and Brad Bird, the director.”

“Oh, me, too,” she agrees. “You know I worked with him on The Incredibles when I first got started in the business.”

We easily fall into a conversation about Brad and his brilliance. I’m doing great until I realize that I’m doing great and that makes me clam up again. She senses I’m struggling, but she seems confused as to why I’m trying so hard.

I look down at my shoes as I desperately try to figure out what to say next. Defeated, I finally give up.

“Well, I better get back to work. “

“Okay, thanks again, Nathan.”

• • •

That night, after my dinner of nachos and carrot sticks, I make a list of things to talk to Brooke about so I’m better prepared for our next meeting:

Are you from L.A.?

Do you like living in L.A.? This can lead into the loaded question:

Do you have a roommate? If she’s vague I can ask more directly:

Is Arnauld your roommate? Scratch that. You can’t ask her that…Besides, these questions are forgettable. You want her to remember you.

I start again.

Do you have any tattoos?

Do you like Halloween?

What cartoon character are you most like?

Does Arnauld remind you of Homer Simpson? Scratch that…I don’t want to come off like an asshole.

Do clowns frighten you?

What’s your favorite ride at Disneyland?

Do you like nachos?

This leads to me imaging Brooke eating nachos with me, and I become too distracted to finish the list. Just the idea of the melted cheese on her fingers and watching the salsa trail over her lips gets me so worked up that I have to take my shower earlier than usual.

• • •

The next afternoon I do a more elaborate drawing of Brooke on her Starbucks cup. She’s charming as usual and there’s a cute little gremlin character from the new show she developed perched on her shoulder.

I dress a little nicer today, wearing my newer jeans and the green button-down shirt that my Mom says matches my eyes. I even cleaned the dust off my Chucks before I left the house, all with the hope of impressing Brooke.

This time her assistant rolls her eyes as I approach, but she doesn’t stop me from going right into Brooke’s office.

“Special delivery!” I say cheerfully since she’s looking tense.

Brooke glances up. “Oh, hey, thanks so much for the coffee. I can really use it. It’s been a crazy day, and I’m worn out. Please, at least let me pay for it.”

“No” I insist, feigning offense at the suggestion. “I’ve been taking a class on chivalry, so this is coursework. You’re helping me out actually.”

“Really? And where does one take such a course?”

“Chivalry University. It’s up in the attic of this building. They do it for the artists because we are typically so bad at this stuff.” I’m impressed with the crap I can make up on the fly like this.

“Really? What other classes are you taking up there?”

“Conversation skills,” I offer, hoping she will never know exactly how much I could use such a class. “Here, can I practice with you? I’m trying to learn to talk to someone besides animators.”

“Sure, I’ve got a minute. I’m all yours,” she says encouragingly.

I think for a moment about how she talks to Nick, and I realize that she’s being gentle with me…as if I needed another reason to love her. My mind reels over the previous night’s list, but I’m flustered so I say the first thing that pops into my head.

“What’s your favorite ride at Disneyland?”

“Okay, that’s a little random, but let me see…I’d have to say Haunted Mansion. What’s yours?”

“Mr. Toad’s Wild Ride,” I reply without a pause. “The imagery and color is trippy…that ride always freaks me out. In a good way…I mean.”

“Well, that’s an unusual choice.”

“Yeah, I guess I’m not your typical kinda guy.”

She smiles and tips her head, waiting to see if I’ll ask anything else.

The next question slips out of my mouth before I can stop it. “So, is Arnauld really your boyfriend?”

She looks slightly amused. “Well, have you been listening to the rumor mill or was that a question this University gave you as part of their coursework?”

“Maybe a little of both, why?”

“Just curious. Yes, Arnauld and I are involved. I must warn you: typically you would wait until we are closer friends before you ask those kinds of personal questions.”

“Okay, that’s good to know,” I stammer, trying to recover from my faux pas. Damn, and I was doing so well. I mentally flog myself.

She waits, sensing my anxiety and kindly tries to help me recover by teasing me to get the conversation going again. “So, since we are all over the place with the questions, do you also want to know what I had for breakfast, or the name of my childhood pet?”

“My technique’s that bad, huh?” I smile, embarrassed. All I can hope for at this point is that she thinks my goofiness is charming.

“Well, let’s just say you could use some tutoring in that class.”

I shrug my shoulders and nod. “Thanks for letting me practice on you.”

She leans in closer to me and gently squeezes my arm. “You know, you shouldn’t be nervous to talk to me. I’m not going to bite you. I’m just a girl—an ordinary girl who happens to love cartoons.”

Does she have any idea what those words do to me? There’s nothing ordinary about you, Brooke.

She smiles at me as she reaches for her pad and the coffee. “It’s been fun chatting, but I’ve got a pitch to go hear. Thanks again for the coffee.”

“Sure, see you later,” I manage to say evenly before wandering out of her office. I start to panic on the way back to production so I stop in the bathroom to try to gather myself.

Damn, why did I ask about Arnauld? What the hell is wrong with me? Why did I have to act like such a loser?

As I splash water on my face and take several deep breaths, something comes over me. I arc over the sink, and when I finally rise up I catch my reflection. Underneath the dripping water and pale complexion, there is a look of fierce determination. It’s all clear to me in that moment. Screw Arnauld, and everyone at Sketch Republic who doubts me.

I will win Brooke Tobin’s heart, if it’s the last thing I do.