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“Well, not math because I hate it with a burning passion,” I informed him, out of breath from power walking and embarrassed by the fact. “I love writing and everything it brings to the world.”
“And? What’s your favorite work?” he asked, lifting an eyebrow at me as we arrived at his door after our hurried pace.
“You’re going to laugh,” I admitted. “But I’m in love with Madeleine L’Engle’s Austin Family series, particularly ‘A Ring of Endless Light’.”
He paused, his eyes resting on me and for the first time, he seemed genuinely curious about what I had to say.
“L’Engle, huh?” he asked finally, jerking the door open before heading inside. “What an honest answer.”
I had a moment of panic, wondering if it was the wrong answer.
“It’s actually what inspired me to write,” I admitted.
“So you write more than papers?” Professor Harlo sat in his chair with an audible sigh. “Here, take the other side of the desk. That chair should be comfortable enough for the next hour or two.”
I nodded and sat, waiting for him to tell me what to do.
He didn’t, though. Professor Harlo paused with his arms folded over his soft leather briefcase and looked at me again. “What about that book or series inspired you?”
“Well, it's about a girl who was my age when I read it for the first time, which is what got me hooked, and the series had a little romance in it. What stuck with me though, was the philosophical arguments and conversations that happened in such a human and understandable way. It wasn’t just a girl who had a crush and a boy broke her heart. She dealt with real life things. Life and death, sometimes, and it’s a story that breaks your heart, then stitches it back together again. I want to write stories like that.”
“That’s a noble goal,” he admitted, his caramel eyes locked onto mine.
God, his face was beautiful.
“What do you hope to get out of this arrangement? Is this just a job? Or are you looking for guidance as you sort out your book?”
“My book is more than half done,” I told him, blushing at the idea of showing him. “But no, it’s not just a job to me. I look forward to soaking in anything you have to say, and I hope, maybe, it’ll have an impact on my book and make it, maybe, better.”
“What is this book about?”
“It’s uh…it’s a fiction,” I tried.
He wasn’t biting.
“So, a novel. What genre, Miss Miller.”
“It’s a romance,” I blurted. “And please, just Mia is fine. Miss Miller makes it sound like I’m from the Victorian Era.”
His lips turned a little and he smirked at me.
“Fine, Mia then. And I’m fine with just plain Owen. No need to be so formal when it’s just the two of us. So many extra syllables ruin efficiency.”
I nodded.
“Ok, Owen.”
He nodded, then his smirk turned to a grin.
“Romance, is it?”
“I know it doesn’t have the best reputation or anything, but…”
I was ready to go to bat for the genre, but he just shook his head, making me pause in my words.
“It’s brilliant, actually. Romance is the biggest genre in literature at the moment. It’s not the easiest thing to write romance well, and to create a character based story where they are both flawed but yet relatable is a feat of its own. I’d like to take a look at it, when you’re ready for some eyes. You’re halfway through the manuscript, yes?”
“Right,” I agreed, my heart pumping like crazy at the idea of a pro looking at my book to critique it.
