Page 35 of All Jacked Up

It hadn’t been the knowing the characters; it had been thatwewere the characters. I was living out my fantasies on paper while adding angst to it. This couple wasn’t us. I didn’t sit and daydream about them the way I had the others. But what if I changed them to us in my head? Altered their personalities to fit. Took it for a best-friends spin maybe. The first spark ofexcitement hit, and I wished I could hug Jellie.

“I think I got it,” I told her. “I need to go.”

“You got the story?” she asked.

“Yes. I know what to do. Thank you!”

“Oh! Uh, you’re welcome! This one is getting dedicated to me!” she called out as I reached to hit End.

“The first one was dedicated to you,” I reminded her.

“So? I can have multiples!”

“Okay, fine. It’ll be dedicated to you. Talk to you later,” I said before cutting her off and turning to my screen.

I didn’t even wince when I moved the manuscript to the trash.

“Let’s make it a masquerade ball …” I said, finally excited to put words on the screen again.

Ten thousand words later, and I was relaxing in a bubble bath with a glass of my favorite cabernet. Being able to create a world I could escape into again was a high I’d missed. I wouldn’t think about the fact that, once again, I was writing Ransom, but with another name and storyline. It was frustrating, to an extent. So far, my writing success had been because of that one man’s inspiration.

Doubt about my writing capabilities started to edge their way in, and I shoved them back. Every writer had a muse. Why not accept the fact that Ransom was mine and not stress over it?

Picking up my glass, I took another drink, sighing with pleasure. I didn’t drink it often because of the high calorie content, but after the past couple of weeks, I needed it more often than not.

The text alert had me scrambling so fast that I sloshed water off the edge of the tub, cursed at the mess, then put my glass downand picked it up from where I’d laid it on the accent table that stood to the right of me.

Ransom’s name knocked all other thoughts from my mind. Sinking back down into the water, I slid my finger across the screen to read what he’d said.

Ransom: Whiskey is the official state beverage of Alabama.

Me: Whew, I can sleep better tonight, knowing that.

Ransom: I knew that was going to ease your mind.

Me: Absolutely. I was currently trying to relax in my bubble bath while worrying over the state beverage of Alabama.

Dots appeared, then paused, stopped, started again. I waited while he was typing with a big, cheesy grin on my face.

Ransom: Let’s add *do not tell me when you’re taking a bubble bath* to the list of things I don’t need a mental image of.

Well, Ransom, you shouldn’t have told me that.

The idea of him imagining me sent a pleased shiver through my body even if the water was hot enough that my skin was pink.

Me: I said bubble bath. Which means the bubbles cover me up.

Ransom: That’s not helping, Shakespeare.

I bit down on my bottom lip, enjoying this more than I should. It was borderline flirting, and I’d envied every female I’d watched him flirt with in my youth.

Me: Cows have best friends.

I reread my weird fact before hitting Send.

Ransom: And why did you research cows? Did you write a book about a farmer?

Me: Nope. I wrote a paper about it in the sixth grade. They’re very social creatures, and if you separate them from their best friend, they get stressed.

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