Page 32 of Foreplay on Words

Of course, it was Adrian.

Evan: No, and was what Chase?

Adrian: If you didn’t get some, who wrote these edits?

Adrian: The scenes almost seem believable.

Evan: You’re welcome?

Adrian: I thought you didn’t want anyone else writing parts of your book?

Fuck off, Adrian. I am a professional.

Evan: She didn’t write the edits, I did.

Asshole.

Adrian: How much porn have you been watching?

No comment.

Evan: ...

Adrian: I take it you two are playing nice?

Evan: Yes, I can be nice to people...unlike someone I know.

Adrian: You love me ;)

Evan: You keep saying that, but I really don’t.

Adrian: Maybe you won’t need her for the full two weeks after all.

Shit... shit... shit.

Evan: We still have a lot of material to get through.

Adrian: You may be able to pull this deadline off.

Evan: Did you mark up the PDF I emailed you?

Adrian: All business today, huh?

Evan: ...

Adrian: Yes. Isobel and I went through the draft. She sent you a separate email.

By the time Chase arrived some hours later, I’d scoured both marked-up files and started making the revisions they’d suggested.

The thought that maybe, at least on half of them, we’d accomplished what weeks of banging my head on my keyboard had not left me feeling a sense of accomplishment.

I felt myself behaving like an eager puppy as I answered the door, ushered her inside, urged her to sit on the couch, and made her start reading.

“These look good. Especially compared to the original drafts. It’s clear something clicked into place.” She leaned forward to settle the laptop onto the coffee table, but something in her expression left me unsettled.

Her sigh was almost forlorn as she leaned back and curled up, facing me on the cushion beside mine.

“Is something bothering you?” I wasn’t used to this insecure, slightly sullen version of herself. She was usually so full of life and energy.

---