Mr. President

Things have changed. I’ve been with him in the most intimate ways anyone can be with another, and it feels absolutely blissful. When I look at him, I get giddy and my heart starts to beat faster and faster. If anyone spoke to me at that moment, I wouldn’t hear whoever it was over the sound of my heartbeat, going crazy over this man.

There is a change in him too.

It’s as if his masculinity has been multiplied by a thousand. His smile holds more mischief. His walk is now more a confident strut, and god, his voice . . . He could be talking about state taxes and by the tone in his voice, you would think he’s describing sex positions.

The looks are killing me. Sometimes they come with a sexy, private smile. Sometimes with no smile at all, his expression almost like a thoughtful frown. Sometimes they come with a look of surprise, as if he’s surprised to catch himself staring at me.

I try not to be caught staring too, but there’s always that one second when I’m staring at his profile, and the next when he somehow feels it and turns and I quickly look away. It’s just one second, but it’s enough. It makes me try harder not to look and harder to be fully professional. Because I know, when he looks back, that he’s thinking of that night too.

That Thursday, we’re on one of the biggest college campuses in Colorado and Matt is speaking to a besotted crowd of tens of thousands. He was pretty excited about this visit.

“Our future rests in our college students and our kids. Hell, I can’t stress enough how important it is to inspire them to get actively involved, make a contribution.” He told me this during the flight, and it made me doubly determined to make sure everything went smoothly all across the board.

Even the weather seems to have been in on the plan (and the weather is almost a scheduler’s worst nightmare). The sky is clear, and the crowd is larger than we expected.

Matt’s powerful speech leaves no doubt of his ability for leadership.

As Matt stands behind the podium, there’s a voice from the crowd. “Go, Hamilton!”

Another shout from the crowd. “Where have you been, Hamilton?”

“Sorry to have kept you waiting,” he says, his lips shaping into one of his most killer grins.

My stomach shudders with excitement.

The crowd keeps interrupting, shouting, “Matt! You’re our candidate, Matt!”

Sometimes Matt laughs, or salutes them, as if they’re old friends. But when he turns sober, so do the people. His hands on the podium, he stands erect and confident as he speaks of us being the best, of how in order to be great you need to work harder than the rest.

How the same old doors won’t open to new opportunities.

How easily being at the top has tempted us to drop the ball and relax on our own glory . . . a glory that we need to light up, as a nation, together. “No one man will bring you what you seek. No one will drop your fulfilled dreams right on your doorstep. So what is it that you want? And more importantly, what are you doing to get it?”

“Hamilton, Hamilton, Hamilton!” the people shout.

A ripple of happiness runs through my body as the chorus ripples across the stands.

God! They love him, they adore and worship him, and by the way he smiles and laughs at the praises they throw his way, he adores them right back.

No other candidate in the history of the U.S. has won the presidency at this age, but the crowds are coming to see him. His wealth and name would have gained a few followers, but it’s his charisma, that earthiness, that relatability that he has that makes you feel as if he gets you, your problems, as if he knows what you need, even if you don’t.

And it’s not only that, but compared to his competitors, the Republican front-runner and the Democratic president (fossils, the both of them), he looks so young and strong, surrounded by a team with fresh, new ideas. The odds are against him, but the points are in his favor. America wants a change. America wants to grow. America wants to be young and powerful again.

“How do you think it went?” Matt asks me as we head to the hotel.

I shake my head and try to look disappointed, but when that smile of his appears, I can’t keep up the façade any longer. “Standing ovation,” I say, lifting my brows. “People connected. That was insane!”

Matt grins and stares out the car window, stroking his chin thoughtfully, his smile still there as he softly admits, “That was insane.”

I hurry to bathe and make it on time for a staff dinner. I’m heading downstairs to meet Carlisle and other members of the team at one of the hotel restaurants. When the elevator doors open, only Matt is inside.

My heart skips, and we share a smile as I step in.

He smells so good, like cologne and soap, and the warmth of his body next to mine sort of intoxicates me.

“What are you wearing under there?”

“You’ll never know,” I say, tongue in cheek.

“Hmm. More like I’ll know by midnight.” He lifts one brow, warning me, and sort of kissing my lips with his gaze.

The mere thought of being in a room alone with Matt tonight does nothing to calm my body right now.

We step off the elevator, walking side by side with a good distance between us. He pulls out my chair when we arrive at our table, but Matt is typically courteous, so fortunately nobody seems to pay extra attention to that.

Except he grazes his thumb along the back of my neck as I take my seat—it’s a subtle touch.

Completely stolen.

And it takes all my effort to keep my whole body from openly trembling in response.

We sit through dinner as the team discusses and discusses and discusses, and I can’t quite calm the buzzing inside me. He’s watching me from across the table. I watch him take a sip of his water before he slips on his glasses to read the polling numbers Hessler brought.

I’m suddenly thirsty and take a quick sip as well, trying to read the folder in front of me. When we leave and shuffle up in groups to the elevators, Matt steps into the same one I do.

He’s standing to my left the whole ride upstairs. His nearness affects me so much that I almost can’t wait to get away.

My heart is whacking madly in my chest.

My shoulder burns where it grazes his hard one. I’m aware of how tall he is next to me, at least a head taller.

I’m aware of his every breath, slower than mine.

My floor comes up, and as I step out, I turn to say goodbye to the group. I look at Matt last.