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Maybe Ethan was right. Maybe she was making excuses.
“What’s the mission today?” Sasha asked, pouring herself a cup of coffee.
Indy grimaced.
She’d ruined things. Up until now, she had maintained a safe distance. Despite Ethan’s flirting and the way her body lit up in his presence, she hadn’t wanted to confuse things. This had all started because she had gone looking for Nick, determined to know whether there was still a spark there. Her reasons hadn’t changed.
And yet, somewhere along the line, she’d let Ethan get under her skin.
Fuck, fuck, fuck.
He was going to hate her. And she would deserve it. Only a disaster hurts the feelings of a guy that good.
She should never have gotten on the back of his bike.
Oh, Ethan. The man who spent his evenings hot gluing dioramas or cramming the next math lesson so he could answer any question his students could think of. Who could tell when she was obsessing and anchor her with a calm voice and a steady hand. Who took corners like a demon and always had hair sticking out of place. Who looked at Indy like he wanted to devour her. He was sex and softness and probably too good to be true.
“I kissed him, Sash.” Indy was already pulling the ice cream from the freezer, Sasha digging out two spoons without hesitation. “What the hell am I going to do?”
I thought this was supposed to be easy…
Dropping to the couch, she draped the blanket over her shoulders, seeking its comfort. It didn’t smell like chalk and pine, but it would do.
Maybe Fate had changed its mind. Maybe Indy had missed her chance fifteen years ago. Maybe she’d given up too quickly, too certain of her predetermined path that she hadn’t tried.
For the most part, she liked her life. Loving family, great friends, her books. Surely she’d be okay without this one thing.
“Maybe I did something wrong,” she said. “I pushed too hard to make it happen and I changed things. If I hadn’t gone to the office, or maybe his apartment—”
“Hey.” Sasha wrapped her in a hug. “You can’t do that to yourself. Looking back will only stop you from moving forward.”
What started as a sigh faded to a whine of frustration. Indy laid her head on the shoulder of her closest friend. This wasn’t what she’d expected at all.
ChapterEleven
It… wasn’t a good day. And if she’d had the energy to get angry about it, she would have. Nothing sucked worse than being blank when surrounded by so much feeling. Or the dark fog that lodged itself in her chest, despite the bright sun enveloping her.
Because that’s what it was. A blankness. Not the fun, floaty, soaking in a bath, had a great orgasm kind, either.
No, this was thick, sludgy, gloom.
Even breakfast had lost its taste. And honestly, what was there to live for when hash browns couldn’t cheer a person up?
The caffeine helped, even if it wasn’t as good as the place next to her apartment. For one, the beans were burned, and don’t even get her started on the crema. It was a travesty.
But if it was Nick’s favorite spot, she’d give it the benefit of the doubt. Perhaps she’d come at a bad time. Everyone made mistakes. Her manuscripts were often littered with them.
Or she’d ordered wrong. Nick had featured his preferred tipple (a half-caff macchiato) a lot on his account. Perhaps the cream softened the sharp edges of the coffee. Indy hadn’t taken cream in her coffee for almost a decade, but she’d be willing to give it a go for him.
If she ever managed to catch him, that was.
Lori’s response was sitting in her inbox, full of praise that Indy could only half let herself believe. The book was far from done. Line edits and proofreading would no doubt take another few weeks, if not months. It was strange. By now, she expected to be calmer about the whole process, relieved even, that over time and multiple releases, the abject fear of her work being “good enough” would have faded, maybe settled into a grounding contentment. But if anything, it had gone in the other direction.
More was more, as they said, and every time Indy was faced with a blank page, it gripped her all over again.This will be the time I disappoint them. When they decide they’re sick of me. Now is where I bleed onto the page so much they turn away.
She pushed her plate away, appetite forgotten. It had been almost a week since she’d seen Ethan. Six days of knowing the taste of his lips, the feel of his hands bracketing her ribs, hot through the thick fleece of his hoodie.
But it wasn’t only the kiss that had kept her preoccupied. Since the moment he caught her in Nick’s office, she’d let his flirtations slide like water off a duck’s back. Perfect, beautiful, talented. Flattering, but difficult to attach herself to.
