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I remembered how nervous I was when I was waiting to hear back from the publisher. Alex was right there beside me. I still think of his words to this day.
“Relax, it's going to get published. You're a brilliant writer, and it's a great idea. These things just take a lot of time. That's how it is in this industry.”
I was in awe of the attention and care that he showed me. I was a nobody, and he was famous — almost a god in my eyes.
Things escalated quickly between us. My dad was a doctor and a single parent, often at work. Alex would visit in the afternoons when I was alone in the house. We became closer as we spent more time together. I loved being around such an intelligent, older man, and I loved writing. Even then, I was already planning a second book.
The day my book was published, I received a copy in the mail. Excitedly, I ran into my father's den. He was having drinks with Alex.
“Congratulations!” my father said proudly as he sipped his scotch.
Alex and I shared a long look before he congratulated me as well. My excitement was at its peak. This was a dream come true for every aspiring writer, and I had Alex, my mentor, to thank for making it happen.
That night, I had already showered and put on my comfy pajamas. I was in the kitchen looking for an after-dinner snack. Hearing footsteps, I turned around with curiosity. It was Alex, putting dishes in the sink.
“Sorry, I didn't mean to startle you,” he apologized. Despite his notoriety, he had always been very kind to my father and me.
I grabbed a yogurt from the fridge and shut the door. “That's okay, I thought you had left already,” I told him as I reached for a spoon from the drawer.
“Nah, just having an intense conversation with your dad,” he explained.
I set my yogurt and spoon on the counter then leaned against it.
“So, still excited about your book?” my mentor asked, teasing me.
“Is it that obvious?” I replied, blushing a little. We both took a few steps closer, so we were leaning across the counter, our faces inches apart. “Actually, I owe it all to you. You are the one who convinced me to go through with everything,” I told him.
Alex smiled, shrugging at my compliment. “I had nothing to do with it. Besides, I already told you what I think about your writing.”
I giggled and said, “That's what I like about you. Even though you are this big-shot writer, you are so down to earth.”
His deep-brown eyes took on a different sparkle as I said that. “What you like about me?” he prompted curiously.
Looking up, I took in the width of his strong shoulders and the way his torso slanted down to a narrow waist. In his early thirties, Alex was a well-built man and muscular. Many fans commented on his rugged looks, from his square chin to the mop of unruly brown hair that refused to lay straight no matter what he did.
But the thing I liked most was Alex’s hands, think fingered and manly. Still, he could type faster than anyone I knew, making it look like he was caressing the keyboard with his fingertips.
After a few seconds, “I replied, “Yeah, like.”
We remained frozen, just looking at each other. Suddenly, we both leaned in. It was an innocent kiss that seemed like it happened too fast. It was also my first.
All I remember after is that my father grabbed me by the arm and pushed me behind him. “What do you think you're doing with my daughter?” he yelled at Alex. Alex looked at him in shock, neither of us knowing what to say. “Just get out of my house! I don't want you anywhere near my daughter or me again!”
My mentor turned to look at me, giving me a final wave, and I felt my heart break in two. I lost my first love, my best friend, and my mentor in that one moment.
Shaking away the memories, I turned from the window, sat down, and focused on my computer. Taking a trip down memory lane wasn't going to help my writing. I needed to be inspired.
Picking up the newspaper, I thumbed through it. Maybe I'd find an interesting headline or juicy story. I spent thirty minutes studying it from cover to cover, then threw it down on the desk in frustration.
Feeling myself getting angry, I took a moment to breathe deeply before I was calm again. About to walk out of the room, I glanced at the paper again. There it was. I couldn't believe my eyes. There on the back page was an ad about writing. I carried it to my desk and sat down to read it.
