AllFreeNovel
Share Us
But that’s absurd. Isn’t it? Of all the things on my success guide that I got wrong, Neil is definitely not the perfect high school boyfriend. It’s just that it’s hard to remember that when our shoes are touching or when a streetlamp outside catches the softest angles of his face.
“Now that we’re friends,” he says, “can you tell me more about your book?”
His words remind me how close I was to meeting Delilah Park. She’s probably back at her hotel at this point. Off to her next tour stop tomorrow.
If I can’t be brave there, maybe I can be brave here.
“You really want to know?” When he nods, I take a deep breath. Anything to take my mind off whatever’s happening with our shoes and what I may or may not want to happen with the rest of our bodies. “It’s… sort of a workplace romance. Between two coworkers.”
Hannah and Hayden. Two made-up people who’ve lived in my head since the summer before junior year. Hannah came to me first, a free-spirited, smart-mouthed lawyer with a mix of traits from my favorite heroines. Then Hayden, the uptight attorney with a hidden soft side, challenging her for a promotion. Opposites attract is my favorite trope, so it made sense to start there. Because, of course, the thing about opposites: they always have a lot more in common than they think.
Sometimes I think about them before I go to sleep, then dream about them. Telling Neil about them feels like I’m telling him about my imaginary friends. In a way, I kind of am.
“Was that so hard to say?”
“Yes! It was,” I say, but now that it’s out there, it doesn’t feel nearly as terrifying.
“Isn’t the whole point of being a writer for someone to read your stuff?”
“I mean—yes, ugh, but I haven’t gotten there yet,” I protest. “It’s… complicated. No one’s ever read anything I’ve written that wasn’t for school.”
Theoretically, I want to share my work. I want to fully own this thing I want to spend my life doing. I want to not care when people call it a guilty pleasure, or have the courage to convince them why they’re wrong. Or even better, the confidence not to care what they think.
“You want to, though,” he says.
I nod.
“Let’s say you’re not instantly perfect at this. You keep trying. You get better.”
“I don’t know, that sounds like a lot of work,” I say, and he rolls his eyes.
“I have an idea. But you might hate it.” When I lift my eyebrows at him, he continues: “What if… you let me read it? Just a page or two? What could be scarier than me reading it, right?”
Surprisingly, I don’t hate his suggestion. His expression is soft, and I’m convinced he wouldn’t laugh at it. What’s more surprising is that I want to show him. He loves words as much as I do—I want to know what he thinks.
“You wrote a fucking book. Do you know how many people wish they could do that, or how many people talk about doing it and never do?” He shakes his head, as though he’s impressed by me, and I want so badly to be that impressed with myself. “You saw Vision in White in my room. I’m not the guy I was freshman year. And you can tell me to stop whenever you want, okay? I’ll put it down as soon as you say the word.”
He’s being so sweet about this. I want to tell him how much this lack of judgment means to me, but maybe it’s easier to show him.
“I—I know.” With trembling hands, I find the file on my phone and pass it to him. I shut my eyes, my heart pounding. I can’t see him, but I can sense him right next to me, hear the softest swipe of his thumb on the phone screen.
“Chapter one,” he starts.
“Oh my God. Please don’t read it out loud.”
“Fine, fine.” He goes quiet, and I last only a few seconds before I lose it.
“I take it back. The silence is worse.”
He laughs. “Do you want me to just not read it?”
I let out a shaky breath, wiggling my shoulders to release the tension there. “No. This is good for me. Keep going, and I’ll tell you when to stop.”
“Okay,” he says. “Chapter one. Hannah had despised Hayden for two years, one month, four days, and fifteen—no, sixteen—minutes.…”
Chapter 1
Hannah had despised Hayden for two years, one month, four days, and fifteen—no, sixteen—minutes.
