Total pages in book: 77
Estimated words: 71212 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 356(@200wpm)___ 285(@250wpm)___ 237(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 71212 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 356(@200wpm)___ 285(@250wpm)___ 237(@300wpm)
Not anymore. Stress and worry had caused my well of words to dry up. I sat at my computer and stared at a blank screen, feeling nothing but a sad emptiness. Everything I wrote down felt fake and fabricated, as if I were painting by the numbers and not with my heart.
Until a few days ago, at least. After Gabe and I got together, I remember waking up feeling as if I could write a saga elaborate enough to take on Dante’s Inferno. I had managed to get a good amount of (good) words down on my work in progress, with random ideas popping up throughout the day. “I am,” I said. “It’s been difficult keeping focus with everything going on, but I think my muse is finally coming back.”
And I’ve got you to thank for that.
“Good, because the world needs more of your books. Trust me.”
I narrowed my eyes at him. That sounded a whole lot like he had read my work. I crossed my arms, my eyelids turning to slits. “You haven’t read my stuff, have you?”
His shit-eating grin told me all I needed to know. I gave him a half-hearted punch to the chest. “Asshole. I told you when we met not to read my books. I get too in my head… did you like it?”
“Like it? I loved it. And I’m not a huge reader, so that’s a huge compliment.”
That got a genuine smile out of me. It was a refreshing reminder and made me want to sit down and get some more words out. I had my laptop with me, so maybe that would be a possibility. I went for my suitcase and looked around the cozy space, oddly feeling at home, even though it had been the first time I had stepped into this place.
“Where can I drop my stuff off?”
“Right over here,” he said, guiding me down a short hallway and into a guest bedroom, plush white sheets perfectly made and crowned with a wall of blue and beige pillows. There was a dresser with an ancient-looking television perched on top of it, a window next to it that looked out into his sizable yard.
I closed the blinds. I didn’t like looking out through dark windows anymore. Not when I imagined every tiny shadow as belonging to someone with a twisted smile and a sick obsession.
My phone buzzed in my pocket, and my entire body tensed. My phone vibrating against my leg was starting to become a trigger for me. I instantly asked myself what other twisted message waited for me on the other side of my lock screen? Was he telling me that he knew we cut up the tracker? That he still had ways to find me? That I wouldn’t be safe no matter how far or how fast I ran?
It was Steven texting the group chat, asking if I was doing okay after today.
I’m doing better. Thanks again for being such solid friends, you guys, I texted back and didn’t have to wait long at all for a response from Steven.
Good, good. Just checking. If you need anything, I’m nearby.
How kind of him. I was going to reply, but Noah beat me to it.
Same here, Trist. We’ve got your back.
A flurry of yeses came in, followed by a couple of GIFs, some of them being drag queen GIFs that Noah and Colton both had a large collection of, bombarding the group with random conversations made entirely of moving images and lace-front wigs. I texted back a string of yellow hearts and hit Send, once again finding myself grateful to be surrounded by such a solid group of people. I had grown up being close to my little brother, Malik, so I understood how important family bonds were, and I could confidently say that every person in that group chat felt like family to me.
“Everything okay?” Gabriel asked, having stepped out of the bedroom and returning with the wine he had promised.
“Yeah, just texting my friends.” I grabbed the glass with a thanks, clinking it with his and taking a sip. “Mmm, this is good. What is it?”
“Wine? I don’t know— a pinot blanc, maybe? Is that a thing?”
“It’s definitely not a thing,” I said, grinning around the glass as I took another sip.
“I’m more of a beer guy.”
“So why’d you bring out the wine?”
“Because I remembered you saying red wine was your favorite. I decided to make a sacrifice tonight.” He winced as he took a drink. I rolled my eyes and tried to ignore the rising hot heat inside my chest. Was he being serious? Did this man really remember my favorite drink?
It’s part of his job to know things about me, I reminded myself, trying not to get carried away.
“Thanks. It’s good, whatever it is.”
Suddenly, I became hyperaware of the bed only a couple of feet away from me. All I had to do was set the glass down, and Gabe could push me backward, the mattress catching me as he fell on top of me.