"Chase! Stop it!" Lyra hissed, grabbing her boyfriend's arm and trying to yank him back. Her face was burning with a humiliated, blotchy red. "What are you doing? Have some dignity!"
But Chase was completely starstruck, deaf to his girlfriend's mortification. He actually managed to produce a black Sharpie from his jacket pocket, offering it to Nash with trembling hands. "Seriously, man. Just a quick signature. It would mean the world."
Nash didn't take the pen. He didn't even acknowledge the gesture. His eyes, cold and assessing, slowly shifted from Chase to Lyra, taking in her panicked, furious expression.
"Career advice," Nash repeated, turning his attention back to me. The rich baritone of his voice was dangerously quiet now. "What kind of career advice, Sutton?"
I trailed a finger
