Page 14 of Her Pretty Words

“Probably a few months. I’m editing it now.”

“So, it’s already written?” I ask.

“The first draft.”

“Let me read it.”

She pauses for a moment, eyes on mine and a tilt to her head. “You can’t. The first draft is a complete mess.”

“That’s fine. I’ll read it now and when it’s published, that way I can appreciate it even more.”

“You’d read it twice?” she whispers.

“If the whole thing is as good as what I just read, I’d read it ten times.”

She only blinks.

“Well?”

“I’ll think about it,” she says quietly, and I almost swear she blushed. Her eyes are bright and shining like maple syrup.I’m about to offer to take her downstairs for breakfast, but the annoying ring of her phone pierces the air. I glance down and see the name of her fiancé. I hand it to her.

She rolls her eyes and answers the phone saying, “Walter,” as a way of greeting. Something about her sitting here with me and aiming that attitude of hers toward him makes me want to grin.

I can hear him through the phone’s tiny speakers. “The fridge is making that weird beeping sound again.”

Her whole body winces in what looks like annoyance. She speaks through her teeth. “It’s not closed all the way,” she bites out.

I hear the faint sound of him closing the fridge. “Oh,” he says slowly. “My bad.”What an idiot.

She straightens. “Is that all?”

“Yeah.”

“You don’t have anything you want to say to me? Anything to ask?”

“Um.” It’s silent. “No?” he says it like it’s a question.

Her shoulders tense and I swear there’s a flicker of hurt on her face. It passes all too quickly. Like she shoved it into a drawer and slammed it shut.

“You know what, Walter?” She throws the comforter off her body like she’s suddenly burning hot. “Don’t call me again unless your eyeballs are falling out or the house is on fire. Even then, I want you to count to one hundred, and when your done with that, I want you to ask yourself ‘Is it really worth giving my fiancé an ulcer over, or am I a big boy who can figure it out myself?’” Before he can reply, she hangs up, and then lets out a frustrated groan. With her eyes aimed at the ceiling, they begin to glass over. And then she cries.

My chest is on fire. “Macy,” I whisper, hesitantly placing my hand on her shoulder. She leans her head on the appendage. Her warm tears are dripping onto my skin and some buried instinctwithin me kicks in. I grab her and hold her in my arms until the sobs leave her body.

I don’t know how much time goes by until she pulls her head away from my chest, but when she does, her nose is a hair away from mine. Feelings I’ve never felt in my life overwhelm my senses. I’m losing my grip on reality, staring at her mouth, and wondering what it feels like.

She stops breathing for a moment, as though she’s wondering the same thing as me. Our lips are so close, and the longer I stay not kissing her, the more a ball of fire ignites in my chest.

Macy Brookes is turning me to ash without lifting a finger.

She’s suddenly off the bed, rubbing at her arms as if she’s trying to wipe away invisible grime.

My mouth is agape at what a mess this has all become. Maybe she has the right idea of trying to wipe off my touch like it’s a stain. “I’m sorr?—”

“Thank you for the room, and for not murdering me. But I don’t know you.” She grabs her suitcase, not bothering to change out of her pajamas. She steps into her sneakers and throws open the door to leave.

I’m up in an instant, needing to rectify this before she goes. I grab her suitcase like I did yesterday, so she can’t leave. “Macy,” I say like I’m trying to calm down a wild animal before it darts away. “I know you’re engaged, and I shouldn’t have...” I shake my head. “There are no excuses for my actions.” I don’t know anything about the relationship she has with her fiancé other than the fact that he made her cry only moments ago, and that certainly won’t do. “I don’t think you should marry him, Macy.”

She looks like she’s about to skin my balls and feed them to me.

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