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“It’s very similar to developmental editing and can be done at the same time. At Pen2Paper Press, though, they are done separately. George heads up developmental editing and will start on it after we’ve completed our work with Dillon.”
“What really is the difference then?” I ask, never having heard of the two different types of editing.
“George will look at developing specific ideas with Dillon: adding or deleting full sections, developing arguments within the writing, that kind of thing. With me, we’ll mostly focus on organizing and honing what he already has rather than changing the piece.”
“Got it.” I nod.
“Cool. So, let’s start going through it. Don’t be afraid to ask questions if you’ve got them.”
The next few hours are spent doing exactly that. I do ask some questions. For the most part, though, I don’t need to because Brandon explains almost everything he’s doing as he’s doing it. He also added me to the shared document with all his notes on it so I can go through them on my own if I want to.
It’s something I can log on to from home. I don’t have a computer or my own laptop, but I figure one of my mates does. I’m sure they won’t mind sharing with me. When I jump right to that conclusion in my head, I mentally fist-bump myself because a week ago, I would have been too unsure to ask that of them. Not after seeing the nest they created for me already. Without even knowing if I’d ever use it. Those people definitely wouldn’t mind sharing with me.
Progress.
When four in the afternoon hits, Brandon says he’s going home for the day. Which means I am, too. After a quick stop back at my desk to grab my things, I head to reception. Wells is waiting for me. Just an hour earlier, when he switched with Houston, he popped his head in to let me know, but neither of them brought up my phone call from the she-devil. Jerrick is aware of the vaguest details about my personal life, but nobody else in the office is.
So when I get to Wells, I’m itching for an update.
“What’s up, shortstack? Ready to bounce?” Is this man just trying out nicknames for me until he finds one he likes?
I huff a pity laugh at him. When we’re in the elevator–just the two of us–I raise a brow at him. “Well?”
“Yes, Sum?” he says, shortening my name. Gross.I ignore that nickname and growl at the aloof smile he’s sporting. He knows what I’m asking. “You call that a growl?” He howls with laughter. “Cute.”
“Don’t be annoying. Just tell me.” I throw my hands on my hips, my purse and lunchbox dangling awkwardly from my wrists, slapping my thighs and completely ruining the intimidating look I’m going for.
Wells throws his head back dramatically, stares at the ceiling, and lets out a sigh of the long-suffering. “Fiiiiine,” he groans, making the single word four syllables. “There’s not a lot to report, honestly. Houston called his friend. Apparently,it’s not like in the movies.”He makes his voice go high and squeaky to imitate this so-called friend. “Said it would take more than a few hours for him to write the code to get into the security system here to check the traffic for any unwanted users to see how she knew when Houston was walking toward you. He’s still trying to trace the exact location of the call itself. But he was able to, at least, eliminate the Chicago region. All of Illinois, actually. She was not calling from in-state. Which is a good start.”
Tension leaks from my body at that. Jade isn’t anywhere near me. I can relax.
“Would it have been so hard to just say that from the start?” I grumble at Wells.
The jerk laughs at me again. “I gotta have my fun where I can. Let’s get you home before I have to block Hudson’s number. Swear that man blows up my phone more than any client I’ve ever had.”
It’s my turn to chuckle. “Wait, how many texts does he send you a day? Do they all message you?”
Wells digs into his back pocket and brandishes his phone at me like it’s a weapon. “Look at this shit.” My eyes scan over the texts, not reading them but rather noting the volume. Dozens of texts already from today. It warms my heart and makes me want to roll my eyes at the same time. Overprotective alpha males.
“Reminding me what time my shift starts, telling me not to be late, texting to make sure I’m paying attention when Iamworking. Brooklyn will text me once a shift to make sure I made it to tag Houston out. Sensible. Responsible. Hudson is straight up off-the-wall.”
“Woah, easy. That’s my mate you’re talking about,” I laugh, though, because I know he’s just teasing. “And besides… You know what they say about glass houses and all that.”
“I amnotcrazy! You take that back.” His mouth hangs open in faux outrage as he stares at me.
“Oh, please. You and Hudson are the same person. Kindred spirits.”
The elevator door pings, and I walk out before Wells does. I’m half-turned, glancing back at him to tease him a little more, when someone grabs my arm and yanks on it.
Thirteen
Summer
“You–”Before I can even register who grabbed me–before they’ve even finished a word–Wells has wrenched me free, and my back is pressed to his as he faces them.
“Ow, let go, you brute! What is your problem?” a high-pitched, whiny voice cries out. Wait… I know that voice. Where have I heard it?
I side-step Wells to get a look at her. “Amber?” My own voice reaches a startling high pitch. Now I know where I remembered the voice. Hudson’s ex, who I saw with him outside the coffee shop not too long ago.
