Page 63 of Role Play
“I don’t think it’s about love per se. Respect, maybe…from my dad.”
“What do you mean?” Forrest asks. He’s still like a chameleon trying to blend in with his surroundings, as if any sudden movement might scare away my confession.
I trace a new pattern in the condensation on my cup. “Growing up, I was always trying to get his attention. He was so…absent. Bored of me and my mom. Even when he was physically there, his mind was somewhere else—lost in the worlds he was creating. I used to smuggle his manuscripts from his office and read them, just to feel connected to him somehow.”
Forrest’s expression is thoughtful. “And now you write, hoping he’ll finally see you.”
I take another sip of my tea, buying time. “My dad could help me if he wanted. Think about it. Every agent, publisher, and even Hollywood studio is after J.P. Cooper’s rights because they are guaranteed to turn a big profit. If he wanted to work me into a deal, he could,easily. But he refuses. And you know why?”
“Why?” Forrest asks.
“Because to him, I’mthatunworthy. I don’t know if it’s me, or the fact I write romance, or what. But there’s something about my essence that Dad thinks is so detrimentally embarrassing that he doesn’t want to be attached to it. Maybe I’m trying my hardest to prove him wrong… Except all I’ve been doing for the past few years is proving himright.”
“Sora—”
“You don’t have to pity me or anything. I’m just trying to be honest. It’s pathetic, right?” It sounds like a question, but it’s not. The accuracy of my words makes my chest ache. “Twenty-seven years old and still desperate for Daddy’s approval.”
“Not pathetic,” Forrest says firmly. “Human. I want my dad to be proud of the man he raised. It’s natural for a kid.”
“Is he?” I boldly ask. “Does he know what you do for a living?”
His eyes drop to his lap as the corner of his lips turn down. “No.”
Forrest is a talker. It makes sense when considering that charm and charisma are two essential elements of his current job, and his almost-job as a lawyer. So, when he answers my heavy question with a single syllable, his message rings through clearer than freshly Windexed glass:Leave it alone.
“Anyway, I think that’s why I care so much about what readers think,” I continue, shifting back the focus to my skeletons instead. “If my dad won’t validate me, maybe strangers on the internet will. But it’s become impossible to guess what everyone wants. The right tropes, the right personalities. Too much spice, not enough spice. The things one reviewer praises, the next reviewer is disgusted by. It has sent me into a total mind spiral. I can’t write lately. I second-guess every plot twist, every character arc, every word choice.”
“You’re writing by committee,” Forrest observes. “Trying to please everyone.”
“And pleasing no one in the process.”
“Except you, right? Because why are you doing this if you don’t love your stories?”
I bite my bottom lip to keep it from trembling. I can’t keep crying in front of this man. He’s going to start throwing on a rain jacket anytime I’m within arm’s reach.
“Great question,” I mutter. “Anyway, enough about my daddy issues. You must be bored.”
“Not at all. Daddy issues pay my bills.” He grins mischievously. “Or ex-husband issues, or occasionally virgin issues.”
I drop my jaw, momentarily distracted from my woes. “Women hire you to take their virginity?”
He cocks a brow. “You really want me to answer that?”
I decide to change the subject before I spiral further into aggressively investigative questions about Forrest’s double life. “I’ve spilled my guts. Now it’s your turn.”
“My turn?”
“Share something vulnerable,” I command. “To even the score.”
“You’re bossing me around now?” He’s looking at me like a puppy trying to roar.
“Um, if you’re open to that.”
“Sora, for ten thousand dollars, I’m open to a lot of things.”
I point at his chest. “We’re not done talking about you returning my money.”
He hums with laughter. “Okay, your choice. One or the other. You want me to share something vulnerable, or you want to argue about the money you’re not getting back?”
