Page 16 of Never Kiss and Tell

If Andi’s not careful, I might just try to move down here permanently. I don’t think she’d mind. Might be nice to have someone on her side.

I make my way to the back bedroom — the one that mirrors Charlie’s. Thank God he’s not home. His truck wasn’t out front, according to Andi, and the house was completely dark. I’m not sure I would be able to handle him with definitely more than one cocktail in my system and no sleep.

I flop on the decorated blue comforter, collapsing back on a bed almost completely full of throw pillows. There’s even a pillow at the foot of the bed. It feels like heaven. Like sinking into a cloud. I quickly climb out of it before I can fall asleep and move to the small closet to put some of my things away.

I won’t be living out of these suitcases for five weeks. That sounds like a nightmare.

The room has a large dresser taking up most of one wall. A fireplace that has had the pit taken out of it is on another wall, and at the end of the bed is a small desk where I might be able to get some writing done while I’m here. That is, if I can figure out how to write a book in the first place.

I take a bubble bath in the bathtub and almost fall asleep. The only thing that wakes me is the sound of the shower next door cutting on.

Shit. The Crypt-Keeper has arrived.

I quickly pull the drain and cut the lights into the bedroom, removing a lot of the pillows and sinking down into the sheets. I was worried I wouldn’t be able to sleep in New Orleans, with the loud noises of the street outside, but strangely, I feel more at home here than I have anywhere in California.

I fall asleep easily and I don’t have a single dream for the first time in years.

I wake up at the first rays of light beaming through the windows the next morning. Acting on instinct, I reach behind me for Drew, realizing he won’t be there a second too late.

After all this time, I still get disoriented when I sleep and wake up looking for him. It doesn’t happen often, but it’s enough to make me wish I could delete some of the memory storage in my brain and forget he ever existed.

Rolling back over, I try to make a feeble attempt at catching more sleep, but it’s useless. As birds start to chirp outside the window and the streets out front grow louder, I roll onto my back and huff at the ceiling.

Day one in New Orleans and I’m already homesick.

Not evenhomesick, per se — sick for something that I can’t place my finger on. Love? Do I really miss Drew that much? Or do I just miss having someone to spend the little moments withand regular sex?

Probably the latter.

I find some instant coffee in the cabinet and make a cup, settling on the powdered creamer in the cupboard. I’ll definitely need to find the nearest grocery store and stock up on my favorites.

I take a drink of the bitter coffee and make a face, swallowing it quickly so I don’t have to taste it and head back to my room for a shower.

When I emerge, dressed in shorts and an old tee, I stop short, just inside the bedroom door. My laptop sits ominously on top of the dresser where I left it the night before.

Andi doesn’t need me until two and it’s just past eight, right now.

Icouldlook through my Word document a little bit, maybe type a few words. It’s not like I’m making any promises to myself. I’ll probably never even finish the book.

But I can’t say it’s not enticing.

Like it’s my own dirty little secret, I tuck the laptop under my arm and grab my now lukewarm cup of brown bean water and head out to the back courtyard. It’s a warm day out, though the tree in the backyard offers some nice shade.

I know my mother would throw a fit if she could see me as I step over the damp moss growing between the brick pavers, but I like the way it feels. What she doesn’t know won’t hurt her.

I set up my computer and close everything except my single Word document. I’m up to five thousand words, give or take. Not bad for someone who has no idea what they’re doing.

The idea to write a romance novel hit me late one night after Drew and I split up. I was trying to envision my perfect man. What he would be like, smell like, sound like . . . and that’s how unnamed-sexy-heartthrob was born.

Tall, muscled, with green eyes, and a thick mane of luscious black hair. He makes my temperature rise to a near fever.

If only he was real.

When I left off, he was just meeting the future love of his life, Celina, for the first time. I like her. She’s a sassy, no-holds-barred redhead that doesn’t take shit from anyone. I guess you could say I made her the total opposite of myself. If her mother acted the way mine did, I know Celina would be quick to put her in her place.

I let myself get lost in my own story, my fingers moving over the keys quickly, like I’m racing my brain to get all my thoughts down before I can forget.

The shy part of myself wonders if what I’m writing istoosteamy. Two lovers locked in an embrace doesn’t seem that bad until you add their naked parts to the scene. Then things get a little more convoluted.

---