Yep. A lot of dudes. Which was a little weird since I was starting to get a rep in the industry for my quietly feminist romances, but my soul didn’t ask for my brain’s preferences on who wrote and sung the lyrics currently eating up my brain-space.
I paused the music and picked up my notepad. “What does Jessica feel when she lands her dream job? Is it like ‘Thunder’? Is she thinking of all those people who told her she couldn’tdoit?”
I flopped back and closed my eyes, focusing on the bass line, letting the vibrations of Imagine Dragons lull me into a state ofcatatonicjoy.
Fallout Boy wasn’t always my favorite, but damn did they have some lyrics that spoke to me. “Jet Pack Blues” in particular usually got me. I replayed the song wondering how I could incorporate the sound of rain into Jessica’s big revelation, just like inthesong.
I went on and on, listening to songs and jotting down lyrics until my phone vibrated. I knew I should ignore it. The last thing I needed was another distraction, but I picked it upanyway.
And holy moly, guacamole, it was Erik. An electric zing sizzled across my skin as I checked the message. He’d had my number for a couple of years but he’d never used it except to respond to group messages about dinners andevents.
Erik: “Youdoingok?”
I sat bolt upright. My headphones shifted just enough that the chorus soundeddistorted.
It was just three words, but it was three words he wouldn’t have texted mebeforeI kissed him. I stared at my phone. What did I do? I couldn’t ignore it. Well, I could but that would be beyond weird. Better to text back with a “Fine” or “Go away” than nothingatall.
Except I didn’twanttodismisshim.
I’m okay. Thanks forasking.
The hair on my arm rose up and my scalppricked.
I promptly deleted thatreply.
Good, thankyou.You?
Deleted that too. Why was it so hard for a writer to write a simple, casual reply to ahotguy?
Oh, because he wasn’tjusta hot guy. He was a philanthropist with a great big giant heart who I couldn’t stop thinkingabout.
I took a deep breath and put myself in Jessica’s shoes. What would she say to Ryan? Jessica was someone who knew what she wanted and she didn’t run away from her feelings for Ryan. She was bold and strong. She was who I imagined I’d be the next time Idated.
I took a deep breath and triedagain.
Me:Honestly? Stillembarrassed.
When I set the phone down beside me on the rug I realized Twenty-one Pilots was singing about fear and anxiety. I shook my head and closed my eyes and took a look at my dark parts, just like they askedmeto.
I wrote because it was the only way I knew how to release these demons that lived inside me. Doubt, worry, embarrassment. They all ran wild. I couldn’t tame them or control them at all. The only outlet they had was through my characters. So often I channeled the turmoil in my head tothepage.
Not just my colossal fuckup of a relationship with Tony, but also my confusion over my family. I was always the oddball. A family of financial experts, my brother and parents lived for order, mathematics, and bottomlines.
While Idaydreamed.
I drove them all crazy and in turn they made me question everything I was. I don’t think they ever did it on purpose—we were just a mismatch ofpersonalities.
My phone vibrated again and this time I took off my headphones. The silence echoingloudly.
Erik:If anyone should be embarrassed, it’s me. I’m the one that got greedy. Did I gotofar?
A flush crept up my chest just thinking about the way his hands held me, the way he seemed todevourme.
Me:I enjoyed all of yourkisses.
I hit send and dropped the phone like it was on fire. What was Idoing?
Erik:Not half as much as I enjoyedyours.