Page 42 of Finding My Forever

He gave me a knowing look. “You just summed up all artists.”

“I didn’t mean to offend you.”

“You’re one of us, too. Writers may be a quieter, less obvious form of weird but they still are.”

I laughed and rolled my eyes. “I don’t qualify as a writer.”

He leaned back and his smile disappeared. “What constitutes a writer?”

I shrugged.

“Do you have stories in your mind?”

“Yeah.” I fought the urge to shrug again.

“Do you write those stories down?”

I nodded. “Yeah.”

“Have you shared those stories with anyone?”

“Yes.”

“Then you, my friend, are a writer.”

It still didn’t feel right.

“What are you waiting for?” He asked in a low tone.

His eyes were drilling into me. “I don’t know.”

“What will make you feel official?”

I really didn’t know. “Writers are so influential. They’re brilliant and insightful and they can influence people with just words on a page.”

“Ah. So, you don’t feel worthy.”

“I guess.”

“That will come with time, April. The stars on Broadway or the top Hollywood directors didn’t get to that point overnight. They started out as budding students just like us.”

Of course, that made sense. I knew it, but having him talk me through it helped.

“Do you know the difference between those people and the people that don’t make it?”

I focused back on him. “What?”

He was silent for a moment just studying me. I wanted so badly to look away. It felt like he was seeing into me. In my mind and heart.

“They don’t quit. Ever.”

His hand slid down my arm until his fingers interlocked with mine. There was a spark when we connected that wasn’t there before. Maybe he didn’t see me as just a silly high school girl, and maybe he wasn’t as cocky as he seemed at first.

Maybe there was still hope.

My other hand found my necklace, and I held the charm.

There had to be a chance for us.