Ariana's POV
The room the journalism department gave us for practice interviews was barely bigger than a closet. One window, blinds half broken, a table pushed against the wall with two chairs crammed close together because there wasn't room to spread them out.
I dropped my notebook on the table and looked around. "This is the only room they had?"
"That's what the front desk said." Jace ducked through the doorway, his bag scraping the frame. He was still in his practice gear, hair damp at the edges, a faint bruise starting to color along his jaw from a drill gone wrong. "Something about budget cuts on the broadcast rooms."
I pulled out a chair and sat, dragging it as far from his side of the table as the wall would let me. Which wasn't far. Our knees were going to touch no matter how I
