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“Knock, knock,” a woman’s voice sounds from the open doorway as I pop the tab and toss back a mouthful.
“Jovie,” Jude says. “You found us.”
I almost choke on my drink.
Fuck me.
It’s her.
She throws her arms around him and he pulls her in, burying his head against her shoulder.
“Jovie, this is my roommate, Stone,” Jude says a moment later.
Her ocean eyes light as if she recognizes me. But I keep my expression unreadable. While Jude’s been rambling on about this woman all week, I shared a little bit about the girl I’d met as well. I didn’t have as much to say since we’d only talked for maybe ten minutes before she vanished, but I told Jude when I found her again, I planned to ask her out.
“Jovie, nice to meet you,” I say before she has a chance to point out the fact that we’ve already met. Her gaze flickers as she squints, as if she’s trying to determine if I truly don’t recognize her or if I’m simply pretending. “We should probably head out if we want to get a table.”
“Yeah, let’s bounce,” Jude says, slipping his hand on the small of her back. “Meyer’s is crazy on Friday night.”
I saw her first.
I talked to her first.
I wanted her first.
But Jude has her now, and it’s been ages since I’ve seen him this alive, this high on life.
What kind of best friend would I be if I took that away from him?
Chapter Eight
Jovie
* * *
“Feel free to go anywhere you want.” Talking to a dog feels silly, but Domino’s been sniffing the same row of bushes for a solid five minutes now, looking for the perfect spot to do his business. “The world is your oyster.”
A woman jogs by with earbuds in, giving me a brief smile. I wave back. I’ve never understood the concept of running for pure enjoyment, but I can appreciate a nice, long walk in a beautiful day.
“Come on, buddy,” I say. “I’ve got five more chapters to write before I can call it quits today, and I really want to call it quits.”
I’ve been hopped up on decongestants and English breakfast tea all morning, but I hit my stride sometime around 10 AM and I need to get back into it before I lose it again. Once I hit my word count for the day, I have a binge session of Selling Sunset waiting for me.
Finally, he lifts his leg, does his thing, and trots back to the sidewalk. I adjust his leash and follow behind. As soon as we get back to my place, he laps some mouthfuls of water from his bowl in the kitchen before settling onto his orthopedic dog bed.
This is only our second day together, but I think we’re going to be okay (aside from the box of Kleenex he tore up this morning when I was in the shower).
I brew a fresh cup of tea and settle in at my desk. By one o’clock, my stomach rumbles. While I know I should eat something, nothing sounds appetizing. Not being able to taste or smell has really sucked the fun out of that sort of thing.
I take a break, stretch my legs, and trek to the kitchen to grab a piece of string cheese and a pear, neither of which taste like a dang thing.
By the time I return to my desk, I check my email and putz around online for a few minutes before mindlessly checking my Facebook. I don’t normally check it this often, but I’m curious to see if Stone wrote me back after my last message yesterday …
The little red notification shows I have one new message.
Holding my breath, I click on it.
My stomach does a miniature somersault when I see his name in bold and a new, unread message beneath it.
* * *
Jovie—
Fictitious flimflammer … that’s a phrase you don’t hear every day. Is that how your characters speak in your books? Also, since you’re having difficulties making the connection between what you do and what the Wizard of Oz does, allow me to simplify. You were both selling things that aren’t real. Not only that, you both promote the notion that happiness is something we can only get from someone else.
Now, before you get on your high horse and tell me that love is real, allow me to impart some additional wisdom on you (and yes, this is pro-bono). Science has proven that what we humans call “love” is nothing more than a chain reaction of chemical reactions in our brains, which flood our body with hormones that make us feel certain emotions. It’s a biological drug so powerful that some people can become addicted to it.
I’m sure you’re familiar with the phrase “love addict?”
Anyway, I imagine the people reading your stories are doing so because something in those pages triggers some kind of hormonal response that gives them a hit of dopamine and oxytocin and gives them all the feels.
