Page 10 of Not in My Book

I smoothed my top down before elegantly taking my usual seat in front of Ida’s desk, lifting my chin. Aiden sat in the seat next to me, and I made a point to scoot my chair away from him. I was comfortable being in Ida’s office since I spent so much time here. Aiden was onmyturf now; I had the home field advantage.

She was sitting forward at the table, her lips in a thin line. She was as short as me, but she found a way to be as intimidating as Aiden. My confidence began to wane as I noted the severity of her expression.

“Ever since our first class you two have been incredibly rude, disruptive, and made us all subject to the Rosie and Aiden show day after day. I’d heard rumors from your professor last semester but assumed it wouldn’t be that bad. Then, when it turned out to in fact bethatbad, I remained hopeful it would get better as the semester continued, but I’ve had enough.” Aiden and I shared a guilty glance, knowing she was right.

“You both are wonderful writers, but I can’t keep making excuses for you.”

I opened my mouth to object, but she held her hand up. “Rosie, I’m not arguing with you on this. I expected more from you. After all we’ve talked about wanting respect as a romance writer, this is how you respect other writers?”

She was right. I felt so small, mortified by how I’d acted.

Ida cleared her throat. “I’m sorry to have to do this, but I’m asking the two of you to drop this class and go into a different fiction workshop or elective. I know add/drop has already ended, but I can’t allow you two to disrupt my class further. I told the entire class my number one priority was a safe space to share our writing. I suggest you reach out to your advisors to see if there is a class they might be able to place you in.”

I sat up, alarmed. “Please, I’m so sorry.We’reso sorry. Please don’t do that.” I couldn’t face my parents and tell them the reason I’d failed a course was because of some stupid feud with Aiden. If I dropped the class now, there wasnoway I’d be able to get into another one. Since it was a yearlong class, I’d be shit out of luck for next semester, too. And I would lose all the money I’d already paidfor the course. I could barely afford NYU as it was, I couldn’t throw away this money.

“I can be nice, look.” I turned to Aiden. I couldn’t tell if he was more startled by the desperate expression on my face or the bomb Ida had dropped. “Aiden, you have great sentence fluency and write beautiful prose, especially with your metaphors.” I turned back to Ida, my eyes wide. “See? We can change.”

“Rosie, I’m sorry. I know how much this hurts, but I can’t let you two set an example for what’s acceptable. The way you’ve been acting is not congruent with the standards of the NYU Creative Writing Program. I’m doingthisso I don’t have to go to the Dean of Student Affairs.”

Aiden remained silent, but I knew it had to be getting to him, too. His hands had curled around the edge of the chair’s armrest, his knuckles white.

Ida was the best professor I’d ever had. Dropping out of this course meant losing her respect, her mentorship, and a lot of money I didn’t have. I couldn’t stomach the thought.

“There has to be something we can do,” I urged. “We’ll behave for the rest of the year, I swear.”

Ida gave us each a long, hard look. “I may have a proposition for you.”

My heart leapt. “Anything.”

“Great negotiating skills,” Aiden muttered. I shot him a quick, warning glare.

“You two don’t respect each other or each other’s writing. If you want to continue in the MFA program, you’ll have to learn to respect the people around you. Aiden, I know you’re struggling with continuing the plot of your project.”

Aiden gave a terse, reluctant nod.

“And Rosie, we’ve talked about how hard it’s been for you to start.” I flushed, nodding. “So. I’m willing to reconsider—ifyou two spend the rest of the course writing a novel together.”

The room was silent.

“You’ll each still submit chapters for workshop, and I’d expect you to make sure you deliver around the same number of words.”

The silence grew, spreading to every inch of the room. Heat began to pull at my skin, sweat pooling behind my knees and on my forehead. The only thing I wanted to do less than fail this class was write a novel withAiden Huntington.

“I’m really appreciative of this opportunity,” I said carefully. “But is there literally anything else? I know one thing Aiden and I canreallyagree on is that he doesn’t want to write romance and I don’t want to write litfic.”

In my peripheral, Aiden nodded.

Ida nodded. “Exactly. Rosie, what defines a romance?”

“The Happily Ever After,” I said immediately. I didn’t look at him, but I could practically feel Aiden roll his eyes.

“So the project you’ll write together will be a romantic story—but without the happy ending. That way Aiden gets to write a romance, and you get to write an emotional literary fiction ending. You’ll write alove story.”

Fuck no. I lived and breathed the rules of romance novels and rule number one was the Happily Ever After. Breaking that rule was the last thing on Earth I wanted to do. What was the point of making two characters fall in love for nothing? The best part of a romance, besides the steamy scenes obviously, was the happy ending.

I bit my lip, trying to think of a way to get out of this and stay in Ida’s good graces. I looked over at Aiden for help, but I could tell he didn’t want to do it either, by the grimace plastered on his face.

As immature as it was, revenge flashed in my mind.

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