Page 15 of Not in My Book

“Shouldn’t it start with a meet-cute or something?” He squinted, waving a hand. “I thought this would be easy for you. You’re the romance expert.”

I laughed softly. “It’s not that easy. I just—” I broke off, taking a deep breath. “I just can’t find the words some days. I know they’re somewhere within me, but then I look at an empty page and nothing comes up. It’s worse than just a word on the tip of my tongue—it’spainful.It’s like when you know you should cry, but the tears won’t come.”

“Have you ever heard of the shitty first draft?”

I titled my head. “That’s what you turn in for workshop, right?”

“Funny,” he deadpanned. “The shitty first draft is when you get everything out. You don’t care what you’re writing or if every word is perfect, you just write.”

“So?”

“So.” He shrugged. “Writing’s in the revisions. Nothing’s set in stone, you know. Your backspace works as well as the other keys.”

“Har har.” I rolled my eyes. But I considered what he said. I’d never admit it to him, but itwasgood advice. “I just wish I knew where I was going. If I knew what we were aiming for, I feel like the words would come easier. I mean, it’s all up to me as of now. What if you don’t like one of the names? What if I name the girl after your mother, and you can’t distance yourself from real life enough and you end up writing a love story about your mother? What if—”

“No more ‘what ifs.’ ” He shut his laptop and took his black notebook from his bag. “Okay. Let’s plan it out.”

“Really?”

“Really. Come on, tell me what you’ve got.”

With our laptops closed, I noticed how many empty tables there were now. The cafe’s rush had ended, and we didn’t reallyneedto sit with each other anymore. But neither of us got up to move.

“Well, I decided on enemies-to-lovers because it’s the best trope to write.” He opened his mouth, but I barreled on so he couldn’t object. “But there are still plenty of things I need to figure out. Why do they hate each other? What makes them stop hating each other? Also, I’m really hung up on what their names are. What’s their backstory? What do they look like—”

“Jesus, Rosalinda, how do you ever get any work done? You’re stressingmeout.” He rubbed his eyes with the heels of his palms.

I ignored him. “To me, the most important thing would be their names.”

Aiden’s nose crinkled. I hadn’t noticed the freckles on it before.

“What? You don’t think names are important?” I asked.

“No, I do. But I feel like the characters decide those when the time comes. After we decide what to do with them.”

“Fine. What’s our plot then?”

“Well, we have to know the character’s name to even start putting them in situations.”

I threw my hands up, exasperated, but the corner of Aiden’s mouth twitched. I squinted at him in disbelief. “Did you just make a joke? I didn’t know you were capable. Will your hardware start malfunctioning soon?”

The hint of a smile left, only to be replaced with a frown. “I was thinking maybe they work together?”

“Ooh, a workplace romance.” I sat up, intrigued. “Tell me more.”

“Maybe they’re always competing. They’re in sales, and there’s a big client or something so they have to team up for a presentation. They’re always bickering, but they go away at a company retreat and things get romantic from there.”

“I hate to say it,” I said, closing my eyes, “but this, surprisingly, sounds like a good romance. How will we ever make it literary fiction?”

His eyes twinkled. “This is where it gets good.”

He went through a couple of different scenarios, all of which made me want to cry. He gave the characters tortured pasts, he killed them off. He kept going until I couldn’t take it anymore and cut him off.

“No way.” I shook my head vigorously. “We can’t make either of them evil. Then, the reader won’t even care if they end up together.”

“I didn’t say evil.” He might not have said it, but I heard it.

I couldn’t understand why someonewouldn’twant a happy ending. Before I could stop myself, I asked, “Why don’t you like happy endings?”

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