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“What if you never wrote Embers?” I asked. “What would you start writing right now?”
He frowned. “I did write Embers, so that’s a nonsensical question.”
I sighed. “You’re supposed to be a creative type. At least act like it.”
He let out a slow breath, then looked away, eyes lowering in thought. “I don’t know, exactly,” he said. “But I had this one idea. It’s nothing like Embers, though. My publisher would probably shit themselves if they found out I was writing it.”
“That sounds perfect. What’s the idea?”
He was clearly reluctant to be telling me as much as he was, but after another moment’s hesitation, he turned to face me a little more. I could see the light of excitement in his eyes as he spoke. “It’d just be a story. Nothing so grand that it’s supposed to go down as a classic. But a good damn story. One that makes people want to keep reading. I tried making them feel, and this would be about capturing their attention.”
“So write it,” I said simply.
He looked like he was about to object, but then he pulled a pair of earbuds from his bag and stuffed them in his ears. Within a moment, he was looking back at his laptop and his fingers were moving across the keys. They moved slowly at first, but before long, they were flying. I tried my best not to snoop at the words appearing on his screen.
With a smile and a shrug, I looked down at my own screen. I had about eighty pages so far, and they were a complete mess. I’d screwed up in a few places and still needed to go back and make tweaks. I debated starting over for about the tenth time, then decided I would just keep writing and let myself worry about cleaning things up when it was all over.
It was nearly three hours later when the flight attendant interrupted us to take our orders for the in-flight meal. Sebastian had been typing like a lunatic the whole time and downed two additional Jack and Cokes. I’d been mostly writing with an occasional break here and there to slack off and recover some of my energy.
“That looked like progress,” I said once he’d taken out his earbuds.
“Yeah,” he said. He sounded almost dazed. He closed his laptop and slid it in his bag, thanking the flight attendant when she set down his steak dinner with asparagus and potatoes. I’d ordered a cranberry salad that came with a soft, buttery roll of brown bread with crunchy grains all over.
“How much did you get written?”
“Forty pages,” he said.
“Wow.” I laughed. “That’s a pretty productive three hours.”
He was looking at me strangely.
“What?” I asked.
Sebastian shook his head. “It’s just that you show up and suddenly I can write again. It doesn’t make sense.”
“Maybe Jasper was right. You’re isolating yourself too much. A little human interaction can be good for a guy.”
He scoffed. “I interact with people.”
“What,” I said. “Over the phone? Via email?”
He cut off a chunk of his steak and speared it with his fork a little aggressively. “Mostly,” he admitted.
I grinned. “Well, maybe you were craving some face-to-face interaction, then.”
“I’m craving more than that,” he muttered, then seemed to realize what he’d said. He paused, putting his knuckles to his lips and giving a small shake of his head. “I’m sorry. I’ve had too much to drink.”
“Three glasses gets you tipsy? Lightweight,” I teased.
He gave me a wry look. “I’m not a big drinker. And I skipped breakfast.”
“Thank you for letting me come to this, by the way. I wanted to wait until it was too late for you to change your mind before I asked, but… why did you really let me come?”
“I told you why. Besides, if you annoy me too much, we can just stay out of each other’s way.”
My eyebrows shot up. “Excuse me? I am not annoying.”
“You are relentlessly cheerful, unexpectedly bratty, and you have a smart mouth. It’s a strange, annoying combination.”
“Oh, are we just letting it all out now?” I set down my fork, turning to face him for this. “Because I’ve been holding back, you know. If you really want me to be honest, I’d love to.”
“Be my guest.”
“You’re a self-important asshole who wouldn’t know a good mood if it climbed inside his tight ass. You bought an enormous mansion just to hide away and remind yourself how lonely you were. And you claim you do have a heart, but no man with a heart could do what we did at the writer’s conference and then walk away like it was nothing.”
Whoops. I hadn’t meant to say that last part. It had all been a fun tease until I’d let a little too much truth slip out. Sebastian parted his lips and locked his eyes on mine.
