After being sent from the asshole’s place, fleeing home, I find that he left fucking hickeys all over my neck. For fuck’s sake. Did he really have to do that? What is he, twelve? Luckily, I found one of Lizzy’s turtlenecks, because there was no other way to hide them. But it does look a little suspicious, wearing a turtleneck on Valentine’s Day.

Of course, as soon as B walked into the room, the other girls spotted the hickey on his neck, a pretty damn obvious one too. Oops. I hadn’t even realized I did that. But then... a lot of last night is a little hazy, hazy from lust and the need for him. I just couldn’t resist the way I felt.

But then, this morning, the way he looked at me when he sent me away.

Fucking asshole. I know that we weren’t supposed to do this, but to look like that... That was too much. B looked like he regretted ever touching me.

I don’t even know how to deal with it right now. I just can’t believe that he’d look like that.

We may have messed up a couple of times, but that doesn’t mean I don’t care for him. That doesn’t mean I don’t feel pain when we do things we aren’t supposed to be doing.

But I wouldn’t look like that. That regret... No.

Luckily, B left the room pretty quickly, because I really don’t want to look at him. Sure, I’m the one who told him not to talk to me, but that doesn’t mean that seeing him doesn’t hurt.

Asshole.

I jolt as my phone buzzes. I check it and find a message from Jo, asking if we can meet up today, since she’s got an appointment here anyway and will have the rest of the afternoon to herself. I send back a quick reply. Any excuse to not have to spend too much time here today.

The other girls are so tiring, with their complaining and trying to find dates online instead of focusing on the project. Today won’t be a good day for getting work done, that’s already become obvious. And I know that Tamara won’t mind me slipping out early when it’s about my writing.

I really don’t want to be reminded of Valentine’s Day today. Not after this morning, not after last night. Not now everything is even further away from being right than ever before. And I’m pretty sure that I’m partially to blame for it myself.

I shouldn’t have gone with him last night. I shouldn’t have let him touch me. I definitely shouldn’t have kissed him...

But I keep doing these stupid things when I’m around him. Such insanely stupid ideas.

I’m not stupid. I’m smart. So why do I keep doing this?

Fuck.

After Tamara came to the room, talking to each group, we decided to split up and get back together tomorrow instead of all working in that room. So I went to the library, hoping to get some work done there, both on my own writing and on the script.

That scene—the one B saw at the cafe, the one we visited the location for last night—it keeps going through my head. I want to make more out of it. As it is now, it’s too sparse, and the location is actually pretty good to film at, so it’s not like we can’t do more with it. I pull the scene up, staring at it.

Yeah. Right now, it’s just a transitional scene between the characters leaving the shop and one of the characters going off elsewhere. But I can make it so much more, something that would be more fitting for that location and can give a little background to one of the characters at the same time.

I check the last sentence of the scene that we already have:

I mentally pull up the location. It may have been dark, but that doesn’t mean that I can’t imagine the way it would look in a couple of weeks and during a nice day.

I let my fingers fly.

I grin. That looks a lot better, and I know it fits well with some of the other scenes in the film. Sure, the script isn’t in its proper form right now, but I’ll fix that closer to when we’re actually doing this.

Then a hand falls on my shoulder, and I nearly jump out of my skin, surprised by the sudden touch.

“Wow. You really were working.” Lizzy laughs and sits down next to me.

“Morning.” I smile. Lizzy spent the night at H’s, so I haven’t seen her yet.

“Morning.” She grins. “You trying to hide something under my shirt?”

I grumble, not wanting to be reminded of that. “Shut it.”

“Oh.” Her eyes light up. “So it is about trying to hide something.” She reaches out, pulling the top down a little, exposing my neck. “Ohhh, wow.” She lets go again. “What did you...”

I slide the neck up as far as I can get it. “Nothing.”

“Really? That doesn’t look like nothing to me. Who was it?”

I look at my hands. I know she’s not going to like my answer.

“Really?” Lizzy’s voice drops, and when I look at her, she looks disappointed. “Him? Why?”

I shrug. I wish I could explain it in a way that doesn’t make me sound weak or stupid, or both. “It’s over now.”

“You said that last time.” Which is true.

“I did. But it’s really over now.” The way B looked, the way it made me feel. Yeah, I can’t keep doing this, I really can’t keep doing this. I need to do better, and the first step is to make sure that I get my life back in order.

“Right.” She keeps looking like she doesn’t believe me.

“Do you and H have a date later today?” Time to change the subject.

“Yeah.” She grins again. “He’s taking me out somewhere. I don’t know yet where. He won’t tell me.”

“How mean.” I wink.

“Very mean.” She sighs. “But that doesn’t matter. I’ve got a plan for him too.” She winks back. “He’s not going to believe it, but it’ll be good.”

“Lucky. I’m just seeing Jo today, that’s going to have to be all my excitement.”

“What? Today? Can I come too?” Lizzy leans in.

“It’s not for a couple more hours.” I check my phone again to see if I’ve got any more messages. “We’re meeting in the city center, and we’ll just talk. I’m not sure what else we’d do. It’s not like I’ve got much to share or anything.” I’m nervous. I’m so nervous. Why would someone want to help me? I’m just a poor excuse for a writer, nothing interesting.

“Hey, don’t talk like that.” Hanna’s voice comes from behind me. “You’re great. I’m so happy for you.” She gives me a quick hug from behind. “I can’t believe this is really happening for you. Suddenly everything is moving forward. So cool!”

“What if you graduate and you have a job right after?” Lizzy grabs my hands. “That would be so, so cool.”

“It’s not like that.” They’re much too excited about all of this. Publishing is hard, it’s not like I’d be making a living with it right away. That’s going to take ten years or something like that. But Lizzy makes paintings and other art that’s just about making and selling, so while she may not be making much money from it immediately, she’ll get money if she sells something. Hanna is into acting, and she’s great with makeup and things like that, so she gets paid by the hour for her work done. But for me... An author is different. We have to polish our manuscript, try to find an agent, then try to find a publisher and then it can take years before I can even see it anywhere. It’s a long game that I can’t predict will make me money in the end. I’m just hoping that I can find a job to do while I’m working at this, even though I have no idea what I’d be doing.

“You just think that it’s not like that.” Lizzy squeezes my hands a little. “I believe that you can do it!”

Well, at least someone believes in me, and even that gives me a good feeling, though it doesn’t really mean much for my future. Oh, well.

I look around as I step into the bookstore. I’m meeting Jo at the cafe inside the bookstore. I’m not exactly sure what she looks like—I didn’t dare to look her up, too excited for this and also too scared that I’d just jinx myself.

I walk past the cookbook section and past the Young Adult books. I check the spines and see so many titles that I’ve read but also so many new ones that I’ve never even heard of. A pang in my chest reminds me that four years ago, I would know each author, even if I hadn’t yet read their books, I would at least know them, I’d have heard about them. These days it’s different.

I step through the arch made out of books and into the cafe. I try to not look too lost. But since it’s early enough in the afternoon that people are still at work or at school, but right after the lunch rush, there are only a couple of people around, and only one of them is sitting at a table with a big cup of coffee and a laptop, staring at the screen as she types.

Yeah. That looks about right.

I walk over. “Jo?”

She looks up, a soft smile on her lips. “Lola?”

I nod.

“Welcome.” Jo stands up and holds out her hand. “I’m so happy to meet you.”

I take her hand, shaking it. “Thanks. This is the first time meeting a published author like this.” I feel my cheeks heat up as I sit down.

“Ah. Well, we’re just human. Don’t worry.” She clicks on her laptop a few times and closes it, looking at me. “I was surprised when Tamara contacted me. Usually, she only sends me art that she thinks I may find interesting for covers and promotions, things like that. She hasn’t sent me a story before.”

“Oh.” I feel my cheeks heat up more. “I guess that makes sense.”

“Well, I have to admit that she’s got as much an eye for art as she has for finding writers.” Jo takes a sip of her drink.

“What?” My voice is a little squeaky. I did not expect this, not at all.

“I loved reading your work. I think I read all of it in just a few days. You have quite an output and developed writing style for only a few years of work, especially if you’ve combined it with your classes. Tamara mentioned that you’re doing your masters project right now?”

I shrug. “I didn’t have much else to do. I just got a lot of time to write.”

Jo nods, then she turns a little more serious. “Can I ask you something?”

Uh-oh. “Sure?”

“Why haven’t you finished anything? All the stories are missing the last couple of chapters. Did you get bored with them, or something else?”

“I... Eh...” How do I explain that? “If I finish them, they’ve ended.”

“You don’t want that?”

I shake my head. “I guess I didn’t.”

“Because people would judge them? Because others would read them in their final form?” Jo seems curious about my reasoning.

I shake my head. I’m fine sharing my writing with the world. I’ve been doing that for a long time.

“Something else you don’t want to end? Or don’t want to think about ending?”

I look up, surprised that she’d catch on. “Yeah.”

“Are you ready to finish something now?” There is a softness to her voice.

“Now?” What?

“I think you have skill. I think that you’ve got things like story structure pretty much down. I want to help you get to the next step.” She leans in a little. “I want to help you get published, make a career out of all those words you’ve written. If you want that.”

I seem to have lost my voice, not able to grasp what she’s actually asking me. If I want to get published? If?

Wow.

Jo laughs. “I’ll take that as a yes. Good.”

Wait. This is really happening?

To me?

Now?

What?