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“Sorry, Lil, I didn’t mean to—”
“No, uhh…” I don’t let myself second-guess the decision “I want to explain.” One final breath. “The blog came first, sort of like a safe place to record my sex life where I felt seen but remained faceless.”
Nico’s ears practically perk up. I can see the questions forming in his mind. “Did you wake up one day and decide to start writing?”
“Not quite. I’ve always kept a journal and would get these bursts of creativity throughout my teens, although they never amounted to anything. It wasn’t until I got out of a shitty relationship that I finally decided to put it all out there.”
I’m not ashamed of what I write, at all. But no part of me ever wanted to own the Zoe Mona personality wholly. It’s an outlet. It’s not the only thing I am.
His mouth folds in on itself, a tight line of concern. Or anger? I can’t determine the difference between the two when we’ve only briefly spoken about this topic. “Was the relationship with that shithead boyfriend you’ve mentioned in the past?”
“Yep.”
He doesn’t pry about it any further. I’m thankful for how well Nico knows me. He understands when I want to close the curtain around myself. There’s only one other person who knows the entire history with Chuck. Frankly, I’d rather it remain locked up between my best friend and me.
“How did you keep your writing from Avery all this time? Or your current roommate?”
“Ave was usually busy, tied up between school and work.” Or I guess Luca during the past couple of years. “I spent a lot of time writing on campus and at the bar. It was easy to play the whole thing off as studying. I left copies of my novellas around the house because what better way to hide a secret than to lay it out in the open? I think she thought I had an erotica addiction.” I chuckle. “And Molly…she’s not around much either and doesn’t typically venture into my room.”
“Huh, yeah. Makes sense.” He blinks up at me, processing everything. “Is there a reason you didn’t try harder to tell Ave?”
It drops before me. The one question I don’t want to answer because what excuse is there?
I didn’t tell her because I’m a lousy friend.
Because I wanted something of my own.
Because I was embarrassed, and even a tad guilty, that I cultivated this man-eating persona because some shithead, as Nico so eloquently put it, walked all over me the first and only time I fell in love.
“Uh, it never came up, and years went by, and I didn’t really see the point to keep trying to bring it up.” My intestines tighten in my stomach, lacing knots of anxiety. “I—I don’t really want to talk about that.”
I really should confess to Avery, especially now that Nico knows.
“I get it.” He gives me a reassuring pat on the thigh. “But did you always want to be an author?”
I don’t have to consider him for long. “Maybe. The blog was a form of therapy, but the rest sort of started out of nowhere.”
“When did you start writing the novellas?”
“About five years ago. For the longest time, there were only stories of my sexcapades on the blog until readers suggested I bundle them into books. At first, I didn’t listen, but the fans I nurtured over the years obviously had the right idea.”
“You fascinate me. Writing about love while avoiding commitment.”
“I write about sex, not love.”
He nods, no judgment in his eyes. Genuine interest is the only thing kissing his features.
“So, are the things posted on the blog true? There are some veryinterestingstories on there.”
“You read my writing?”
Nico’s eyes widen with surprise. “Of course. You’re a brilliant writer.”
Not of course. He didn’t have to spend a second going through my stories, but he did.
“How many stories did you read?”
“Well, I readCoastal Flingand a few blogs, but after a while, I couldn’t keep going.”
