But the rest of her knew it was because of Brady. He was clouding her judgment. That was bad journalism. She wasn’t supposed to get attached to the people she was writing about.

Objective. Neutral. Unbiased. Those were the words that came to mind when she thought of journalism. That was what her professor wanted her to strive for. Now all she was thinking in the midst of writing was Brady.

Brady. Brady. Brady.

He was about to get on that stage and talk about education policy, no doubt. This was the audience for that kind of discussion. If she were up there, that was what she would talk about. The very thought made her blood boil for so many reasons. She wasn’t sure which one was the primary reason now.

Was she infuriated because he was actually going to try to discuss education with a sea of students whom she had informed his policies were garbage? Or was she heated because it would be the first time she’d seen his handsome face since leaving his hotel room nearly two weeks ago?

“So, you want me to record the whole thing?” Justin asked, squaring away his camera focused on the podium.

“Yeah. That would be great. We don’t have the normal crew for the paper, and I wanted to make sure I didn’t have to deal with video as well,” she told him.

“No problem here. I’ll be running sound and this thing will be running itself, thanks to my new tripod,” he said, tapping his finger on the camera.

“Thanks, Justin,” Liz said with a big smile. “Really appreciate it.”

“Are you going to be in the booth?” Justin asked.

“Nah,” Liz said, shaking her head. “I’m going to try to get a closer look. I reserved a front-row seat, but I don’t know if I’ll be able to sit still.”

“First shindig all on your own, huh?” He fiddled with the sound equipment.

“Yeah. First campaign-related appearance on campus this season too,” she told him. She wiped her palms on her high-waisted black skirt. She had paired it with a tucked-in V-cut Carolina-blue blouse that was loose and flowy, with little gold buttons up the front. Her nude suede heels finished off the outfit. She had chosen it all carefully and felt a little silly. She normally dressed nicely to begin with, but this had something…everything to do with Brady.

“It’ll be fine. I’ve done shit like this before. Their crew tries to take over anyway. You probably won’t have to do much,” Justin told her.

“True.” She tried not to think about it all. She stood as her nerves took over. “Hey, will you be able to splice this for me later? I want to get some of it up on the website as soon as possible.”

“No way. Not tonight.”

“Oh come on, what are you doing?” she asked, leaning her hip into the counter.

Justin shrugged noncommittally. “Stuff.”

“Do you want me to pay you, is that it?” she grumbled. They had paper resources, but she wasn’t in control of much. Normally she would have to get expenses approved through Hayden, but since he wasn’t here…

“I might find some free time,” he admitted.

“Fine, whatever,” Liz said, turning to leave. “So difficult.”

“See ya around, Liz,” he said, chuckling.

“Bye, Justin.”

Stupid AV abilities.

Liz walked out of the sound booth, frustrated with Justin. She had met him in her intro journalism class freshman year. He didn’t really have any interest in writing and had made that blatantly obvious. The professor hadn’t taken his shit, though, and forced him to complete all the assignments as written. Though she had allowed him some extra credit with his excellent videos.

Liz had forged a friendship with Justin from the beginning. He was also on scholarship, living in her dorm, and seemed to always be around. He refused to work for the paper or the UNC news channel, even though it was obvious that they could use his skills. He preferred to be freelance. They hung out sometimes with mutual friends, and he could be funny when he wanted.

Her heels clicked against the hard wood floor as she circled the room. She recognized some familiar faces in the crowd, but not that many. A group of girls waved at her as she walked by. She smiled tentatively and waved back, not used to people recognizing her. She walked purposefully to the front of the room and took her seat in the front row.

She felt a bit naked without her voice recorder, but she didn’t really need it, since Justin was videoing for her. She pulled a small legal notepad out of her bag and flipped to the event page she had mocked up. She had a few questions that made the list. Some of them were from the Raleigh event and some of them were new. Heather Ferrington had said that she wasn’t going to get to ask any questions until the close of the event, and Liz wanted to be prepared.

Her stomach flipped just as it did every time she thought about getting an interview with Brady after the event. Could she get that close to him again?

Liz pushed down the thoughts she had been harboring for the past two weeks. She was a professional…despite her actions. If her editor wanted her to get an interview, then she could do it. It didn’t matter if it was Brady Maxwell or the President of the United States. This was her job, and she was going to take it seriously. She couldn’t let her sexual attraction to the man mess up her career.

The buzz in the room died down as Heather Ferrington walked onto the stage. She was everything Liz remembered her to be—unbelievably gorgeous, with long blond hair, a tall, slim build, and a fresh gray skirt suit. She could have been a model, and Liz wondered what had made her become a press secretary instead. Did she see that Brady was going somewhere and jump onboard as soon as she could? Had she done more to get to this position?

Thinking about whether or not Brady had slept with his attractive press secretary wasn’t going to get her anywhere. It was only going to make her jealous.

“Hello, Chapel Hill! Thank you so much for coming out today!” Heather said brightly. It was a completely different façade than Liz had seen from her before. With press she had been biting and strong; on the phone she had been condescending and demanding; now she was über-cheerful.

Don’t underestimate her.

“My name is Heather Ferrington and I am Senator Maxwell’s press secretary. Senator Maxwell is thrilled to be back at his alma mater today. Only a few years ago he was sitting in the same classrooms and attending the same events as you. He was playing basketball for your beloved team, and loving every minute of it. He cherishes every memory from his hometown, and appreciates you inviting him to come speak today.”

Ha! Invited! Liz laughed to herself. Hadn’t Heather called only a week ago and explained that they were planning Chapel Hill as an extra stop for the Senator? Would the lies always be boundless?

“Before the Senator comes out to speak, I am pleased to introduce your fellow student Leslie Chester, president of Political Action NOW and cofounder of North Carolina Students for Progressive Action,” Heather said with a smile as she began the applause.

Liz sat up in her seat. She didn’t know they were going to have an introductory speaker.

It made sense that they would pick Leslie. Leslie was scary, with her intensity behind the things she believed in, and she badgered the paper relentlessly for more space for her pictures, articles, and ads. It was a constant battle. Liz wasn’t sure she knew anyone who actually liked her, but the girl sure as hell knew what she was doing.

Leslie Chester walked onstage in her modest two-inch heels. She was on the shorter side, with ashy brown hair and chipmunk cheeks. Liz suspected, like everyone else, that she would make a bid into politics one day, and she was dressed the part in a black pantsuit.

She stepped up to the microphone and cleared her throat. “Ladies and gentlemen, my fellow students, thank you for attending this momentous event on campus. As this is one of the very first campaign stops on Senator Maxwell’s tour, I personally feel honored to be able to introduce him this afternoon.”