Page 22 of Not in My Book

I handed over the folded papers and she skimmed through them quickly.

“I know it’s not my best work,” I said in a rush. Writing had been so much easier when I was just a little girl sitting on my bedroom floor, without the pressure of Ida and Aiden as my primary audiences, and I wanted to find that feeling again. “I feel like I don’t know Aiden well enough. I’ll set a scene up for what I want it to be, but then Aiden will take it in a different direction.”

She hummed. “You two lack chemistry.”

“That’s not true,” I said quickly.

She raised a brow. “So, you twodohave chemistry?”

A blush spread across my cheeks. I don’t know why I felt weirdly protective over the dynamic Aiden and I had. It wasn’t a typical one, but now that we’d spent some time working on the project, I surprisingly felt like we worked well together. Even if it was in opposite ways. Half the time when he insulted me, I wanted to write it down because it was such a good insult.

“I don’t know.” I shrugged. “I don’t think it’s that bad.”

“What you two need is to communicate better. Think about how successful Christina Lauren is. Their voices blend so well because they’re so in sync with each other.”

“They write the same genre.”

Ida shrugged. “I didn’t say it would be easy.”

I sighed, knowing she was right. If Aiden and I were able to miraculously communicate with no problem, we’d have to be semivulnerable in front of each other. I wasn’t ready for that.

“Let’s see what the workshop thinks tomorrow. I’m really impressed with what I’ve seen so far from you two. I think it’s been your best writing yet.”

“I don’t know aboutthat.”I laughed. “Sometimes when I read it back, it doesn’t even feel like my voice.”

“Sure.” She bowed her head, conceding. “But it might just be a new side of your voice you hadn’t discovered yet. And, honestly, I really like it. But let’s see what we can do with this chapter.”

We continued revising my latest chapter and going over her recent notes for me. There were some writers who had no ability to teach, instead opting to preach from their pedestal. But Ida wasn’t like that. She took the time to sit with me and go through line-by-line edits and guided our plot as much as she could. I always left her office with a renewed sense of purpose in the program.

As I packed up, I said, “I meant to ask you about this earlier. Have you heard of the Frost Fellowship? I was thinking of applying for it.”

I’d done the math, and if I won, I’d be able to do a full-time schedule to finish my MFA soonerandafford to go home more than once in a blue moon. Besides, being published inThe Frostwould be an incredible honor that’d help me build up my writer credits.

Ida’s eyes brightened. “Youabsolutelyshould! It’s a really great opportunity.”

“Obviously I want to, but …” I hesitated.

“But you’re afraid of what’ll happen if you submit a romance,” she finished.

“The only thing I know how to write is romance. But I know what other people think of that. I don’t want it to hurt my chances.”

She sat forward at her desk, leveling her gaze with mine. “I’m going to be honest—I don’t know if they’ll be kind to a romance piece. I don’t know if that’ll be a deciding factor or not. But you’ll regret not having taken this chance. You know I think you’re a great writer,” she said softly. “I say submit romance and fuck ’em if they can’t appreciate it.”

It was so easy to sayfuck the man! I won’t submit any sad, serious literature. I’ll submit my witty romance chapter!But rejection was disheartening. It was immortalized in words echoing in my head and doubt in my hands over a keyboard.

“Would you be able to look over my piece before I submit it?” I asked finally.

Ida smiled. “I’d love nothing more.”

“That’s it for today. Keep up the good work, everyone.” Ivy stacked her papers against the conference room table and stood.

I remained in my seat across from Maxine. Despite sitting next to each other at our desks daily, we always picked the seats across from each other in the conference room. Perhaps because it was another way to hurl glares or get under the other’s skin.

She didn’t leave either. She pinned me down with her light blue eyes as the room emptied out. I had become addicted to that look. It was my biggest vice—figuring out what words I could say to make her mad, to make her focus only on me, to get the look.

She bounced her leg rapidly, causing the table to shake. “Would you quit that?” I snapped.

She narrowed her eyes, her leg speeding up.

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