“I can write anywhere,” I tell him.
“I think I need a change of scenery. How do you feel about writing offline today?”
Finally, I glance up. “What does that mean?”
“It means we won’t be writing in Google Docs. It’ll be a fresh scene, on a Word document, in a place with no service.”
“Oh, so legit offline. I thought it was writer lingo I didn’t know,” I say with a laugh. “Sure. Where are we going?”
“It’s a surprise. Let’s go.” He bounces down the front steps, his woodsy scent drafting by me.
“I need to grab my stuff.”
“It’s in the truck.”
I turn around and cross my arms. “So, I didn’t really have an option?”
“Nope.” He smirks again.
With my shopping bags in hand, I move toward his truck.
He has ideas, huh? Let’s just hope they have nothing to do with the scene I wrote last night. I can talk a big game when Tobias isn’t near me, but when he is, all my worries disappear, and for a girl who’s not sure what to do with these new feelings, that could be dangerous.
* * *
Almost a half hour later, we’re sitting at a picnic table near Lovers Lake. There is a slight breeze, giving me a small chill, but Tobias has planned for this and hands me my sweater and then a blanket.
“I’ve never written outside before,” I say. My gaze floats over our side-by-side screens to the lake that, despite the breeze, looks like glass.
“Simon swears this is the best way to write, and so I give it a try from time to time. I’ve written some of my best scenes outside, so he might be on to something.”
“And what scene are we writing out here today?” I ask, propping one elbow onto the table and resting my face in my hand as I watch him. “Are they doing something outside?”
“Actually, I was thinking of the fight scene we discussed last night and how we wanted more oomph.”
Relief floods through me, and I swear I hear birds chirping. He’s not talking aboutthatscene. He’s talking about a safe zone scene that will end with just a kiss.
“Okay, do you want me to rewrite the whole thing?”
“No, just the ending, but let’s write it together.”
He pulls up the draft of that scene and scrolls about a third of the way through until he shows me where we should start the rewrites.
He goes into detail about the feelings we should include and the fire they need to give the reader, and even though I’m listening, I get sucked into his passion for writing. He really loves this, and I really love watching him talk about it.
“I think he should follow her outside,” he says. “And call out her name. The baby is with the grandparents, so we don’t have to worry about that angle. We should actually use it to our advantage and give these two the moment they deserve.”
“Does she just stop and turn,” I ask, “or does she try to keep walking away?”
“I think she keeps walking for a moment and then turns, ready to argue.”
I smile. “Let’s start with that.”
He starts writing, but I stop him when the hero bumps into her from behind.
“I don’t think it really works like that. He wouldn’t be that close. It seems too easy and unnatural.”
“Yeah, he would.”
