Page 53 of Text Appeal

“We so are.”

A woman jogging by gives us a wave. Joyce drives past in a hatchback, honking her horn. Socializing out on the street on a Saturday night seems to be the thing around here.

“I appreciate you sharing all of this with me,” I say. “Trusting me with these things.”

“Sure.” He gives me a long look. And once again I have no idea what it means. But then he walks around the car and opens the passenger side door. “So, what do you say? Want to go to my high school reunion and make everybody jealous of our amazing fake relationship?”

I smile. “I would love to.”

CHAPTER TEN

Glitter-covered cutouts of octopus and fish hang from the ceiling along with streamers in every shade of blue known to humankind. There’s even a huge cardboard shipwreck in the corner of the hall. So cool. You’ve got to love an ocean aesthetic. Plenty of people are here already. Some dance beneath a mirror ball while others talk on the side.

“You’re smiling again,” says Connor.

“I had a great day.”

“Good.”

“And I have a friend who tells me I am beautiful and communicates with me.”

Seeing a big handsome man oh so subtly squirming is truly a sight to behold.

“You do what you like,” I say. “I know you probably haven’t seen some of these people in years. I’m happy to just hang.”

“Won’t people expect us to be together?”

“Just me being here sends the right message. We can make strategic appearances together over the course of thenight. Don’t worry about it. Enjoy yourself. You’ve been looking forward to this, haven’t you?”

He nods.

“Are you nervous?”

“No.”

Of course not. He’s a prom king. Although he’s experienced tough things in his past, standing here now, he is free and unburdened with no fucks to give. It’s beautiful to watch. How much of our lives do we lose to worrying about what other people think?

“Tell me about your book.” He offers me his hand. Holding hands seems to be something he’s very comfortable with now. “How much have you written?”

“The first draft of chapter one is done and dusted. I also have a loose outline for where the story is going for the first half of the book, which is always helpful.”

“You don’t decide everything ahead of time?”

“No. I am a hybrid when it comes to process,” I explain. “Not quite a plotter or a pantser. There needs to be room for things to grow and change because I like room for discovery while I’m writing. But I need a rough guide so I don’t go completely off-track and take the story in the wrong direction.”

“Interesting,” he says. “Is the hero based on me?”

“Yes.”

“Really?”

“No.” I smile. “Of course not. Though your ego is impressive.”

The side of his mouth lifts in amusement. “Speaking of which, I just remembered, you were going to get back to me about that kiss.”

“Was I?”

“Yeah.”

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