Page 62 of Role Play
“Except he didn’t bother checking what it meansin Korean,” I continue. “In Japanese, Sora means ‘sky.’ But in Korean, it means ‘conch shell.’”
Forrest’s eyes widen with delight. “You’re kidding.”
“Nope. There are a couple of variations in translation. According to some, my dad accidentally loosely named me after a snail.” I point at my chest with a self-mocking smile. “Which, considering the pace of my career, might be shockingly apt.”
He laughs, his entire face lighting up with genuine amusement. “My little conch shell, inching her way to a bestseller. There’s nothing wrong with slow and steady, Sora.”
The casual endearment sends a warm flutter through my chest, which I immediately try to suppress. Getting attached to Forrest is a monumentally bad idea.
“So, the signing was amazing in the end,” I say, desperate to change the subject. “I’ve never been to an event that big. And most certainly have never sold out of books before.”
“Your work deserves recognition,” Forrest says with a sincerity that makes my stomach swoop. “I saw how those readers responded to you.”
“To your abs, you mean.”
“To your stories,” he corrects firmly. “The abs got their attention. After that, they were intrigued byyourbooks.”
I fiddle with my straw, not sure how to respond to such unwavering support from someone who’s barely more than an acquaintance. “I still can’t believe how well it worked.”
“Daphne’s quick thinking saved the day,” Forrest agrees. “She’s quite the strategist. No surprise she got into law school.”
“What?” I gape. “What law school?”
Forrest’s expression shifts, realization dawning. “Shit. That’s right…she didn’t tell you, yet.” He hangs his head, a little color flooding his cheeks. “Any chance you can forget you heard that?”
“Let me check…” Still as a statute, I pin my eyes dangerously at him. “Nope. Now, tell me what the heck you’re talking about.”
His throat bobs as he swallows thickly. “She mentioned today she got accepted to a program in Lincoln, Nebraska. Starting next semester.”
The news hits me like a physical blow.Daphne’s leaving? And she didn’t tell me?
“That can’t be right.” I shake my head. “She would have told me something that important.”
Forrest’s grimace tells me I’m dead wrong. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said anything. Wasn’t my place.”
My chest restricts, a familiar panic beginning to set in. Daphne is my only friend, my support system, the person who believes in me when I don’t believe in myself.And she’s leaving?I mean, of course I’m happy for her, but…this wasn’t the plan.
Columbia Law was the plan. Here…with me, was the plan.
“Why wouldn’t she tell me?” I whisper, more to myself than to Forrest. “Does she think I wouldn’t be supportive?”
“Maybe she was worried about how you’d take it,” he suggests gently. “Maybe she was thinking more about you than herself.”
The thought stings. Am I so fragile that my best friend feels she needs to shield me from her own good news?
“I can’t stop thinking about what you said earlier,” I admit.
“I said a lot of things earlier.” Forrest stabs at his tapioca balls beneath his orange smoothie, but keeps missing the boba. Frustration consuming him, he rips off the plastic seal and starts stabbing the little balls with the point of his straw, popping them into his mouth one by one.
“Growing on you, are they?” I smirk.
He releases a small chuckle. “What did I say earlier that’s on your mind?”
“You called me out. You asked if I was writing because I love it, or to be loved.”
He stops spearfishing his tapioca balls, and pushes his drink aside. Crossing his arms, he leans back in his chair. “Did you figure out an answer?”
I stare at him, amazed at his nonchalance while he zeroes in, precisely I might add, on the core of my anxiety.
