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“What? That’s crazy. What makes you think so?”
Holden chuckles. “Maybe you don’t remember as much as you think you do, but a couple of times you volunteered to share your work. Once was the story about getting lost in Disney.”
As soon as he says it, I remember. Shit, that’s right. I did share a few times in that class. I did everything possible to avoid doing the assignments, that class a painful reminder of the one night that changed my life forever. A reminder of why I was no longer an English lit major, of why I was lost and looking for answers. “Now I remember. I definitely was not the best writer. Remember the story one girl told about the fictional world she’s been creating since she was little? That was impressive.”
“You’re not wrong there. But I still stand by what I said. When an author can bring out emotions and make the reader feel like they are right there in the action, that’s better than any world they create. With the way you wrote that story, I felt like I was there with you.” Holden talks like how he does when he’s talking about video games or graphic design with that passion and animation that tells me he really likes something.
He feels that way about my writing…
And I don’t know how I feel about that.
It sets off a spark inside me I don’t want to feel. A passion I don’t want to ignite. But having him be so into my words…
It means a lot to me.
“Thanks, Holden. That means a lot to me.”
“Do you enjoy writing?”
I want to shut down. I want to run away from his questions and his blue eyes as deep and as fascinating as the ocean. But for some reason, I find myself opening up. If only just a little. “I do.”
“Have you thought of maybe a career in it?”
“Yeah. I have. But I’m afraid of the whole don’t turn a passion into a career thing.” That’s only a half truth, but it’s enough.
“I get that. I often thought about that when deciding to do graphic design. What if I end up hating it? Or it’s nothing like I thought? But I figured I wouldn’t know unless I tried.”
“If only it were that easy.”
“It wasn’t. Not with my dad telling me all the time that I was making a huge mistake. Did your parents support your choices?”
“Yes, it’s just—”
“Hey, I need one of you to help me with a special project. Who’s up for it?” Jaime appears next to us, interrupting the conversation at the perfect time. It was getting a bit too personal for me.
“Can we both do it?” Holden asks.
Jaime gives us her best side-eye. “Uh, no, we need one person to man the floors. How about you help me, Holden, since you haven’t helped me with a project before.” Jaime grins.
I cover my mouth to hide my laughing. He has no idea what he’s in for with one of her projects. Two words come to mind—tedious and monotonous. I’m glad she picked Holden. “Yes, Holden needs the full Jaime project experience.”
“Oh no, why am I suddenly worried?” Holden teases as he stands. Jaime just keeps smiling as she beckons Holden to follow her. He gives me one last desperate “save me” look.
I’m left staring at the computer. Going over and over his words.
You were the best damn writer in that class.
I miss it. The urge is still there underneath all my shitty baggage. But it’s too late now. I’m almost done with my junior year. Soon I’ll graduate and move on with my life.
I stuff the urge back where it belongs—deep down inside my soul. It needs to stay there. Where it fucking belongs.
The lemon shotburns as it goes down, the sweet and sour taste causing my taste buds to go haywire.
Ahhh, relief. Finally.
I like this house party’s choice of drinks. I grab two more shots and give one to Maia. “To this shitty week being over.” We cheer and down the alcohol. When I go to grab two more, Maia puts her hand on my arm and shakes her head.
“I’m good, Len. That lemon, wow.” Maia puckers her lips. “Too sour for me. I’m gonna stick with beer.” She takes a can from the drink table and offers me one.
