Page 49 of One Short Summer

Tonight, we started out next to each other, our bodies pressed together from shoulder to hip, stealing glances at each other, before Monica somehow ended up sitting between my legs. We didn’t really talk about it.

Somehow, it just happened.

Like sitting next to each other just wasn’t enough.

We both needed more, a closer connection, and it felt right. So damn right with her so close to me, only a breath away, my arms enveloping her like a cocoon. It actually feels so natural, I’m starting to wonder why we didn’t do this before. There’s absolutely no denying how much I’ve enjoyed having her this close, how much I craved having her warm body settled against mine.

And, like most times before, she didn’t make it all the way through the movie. I, on the other hand, am alert, taking in everything about her—from her head nestled into the crook of my neck, to her steady breathing as her chest keeps rising and lowering, and her hair tickling my face.

No complaints from me though, since she smells good enough to eat.

Like strawberries and mint. Like summer.

Always so tough on the outside, but incredibly soft and gentle on the inside. Often even without realizing it.

Resting my head on the back of the couch, I listen to her soft breaths when I’m suddenly hit with an idea for my story.

I can’t believe it.

Shit.

After all this time.Finally.

This ishuge.

Exactly what I’ve been waiting for after all these months of struggling to manage a few words on paper that were mediocre at best. Of course it happens while I’m sniffing Monica’s hair.

Go figure.

I inwardly curse, not wanting to leave this cozy situation with her, but at the same time, unable not to follow the strong urge to go and explore this crazy idea. Get it out of my head and watch the magic unravel.

Slipping out from beneath her as carefully as I can, I gently lay her down on one of the soft cushions on the couch. She’s already wrapped in a blanket, so I don’t have to worry about her being cold.

My fingers are on autopilot, pushing the buttons on my phone, knowing exactly where to find my agent’s contact info in my favorites. With the phone pressed to my ear, I tiptoe out of the room and into my office.

“Come on, Vicky, pick up.”

When I walk into my office, the laptop on the large brown desk suddenly doesn’t look as intimidating anymore. On the contrary, the sight of it actually makes me a little giddy. I open it and log in to get started, the cursor on the blank page greeting me like an old friend.

“Gabe? It’s late. What’s going on? Everything okay?” Victoria’s voice sounds a little tired, but that’s how our relationship has always been. We’re both workaholics, at least when we’re in the zone, working at the weirdest hours at times.

“Vicky, I just had an idea.” My foot taps impatiently on the rug while I blow out a big puff of air. This sudden mind spark has got me excited to the point of feeling both hyper and exhausted at the same time. My mind racing so fast, I can barely keep up with it.

“I’m listening.” The tone in her voice changed the moment she realized it’s writing-related. She has this special no-nonsense tone that’s reserved for all things business, making her sound exactly like the professional she is—and one of the best agents in the industry at that.

Some people think she’s a bit cold and sometimes seems too fixated on her clients and their projects, but in reality, she’s a very nice person. Being determined and focused is definitely a plus in this kind of business, and it has worked well for us as a team.

I let out another breath before saying the words out loud for the first time, wondering how they sound outside of my head. “What do you think about turning our male hero into a feisty, female heroine?”

A moment of silence follows, something very untypical of Victoria.

“No broody guy anymore?” Her voice gives nothing away.

I shake my head even though she can’t see me. “Nope. Not as the main character, at least. He might come in handy later on as the male counterpart though. What do you think?”

Another pause from her end, long enough to send little trickles of worry down my spine. I know from experience that not everything I deem as good works in this business, and I’ve come to trust Vicky explicitly since she knows the market like it’s hers alone.

“I think...I like the sound of it, I’m definitely intrigued. We’d have to tweak the marketing a bit, but as a matter of fact, it might open up a few more doors for us. When can I read about this new mystery woman?”

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