Page 12 of Just My Type
I make a face. “Early morning classes are so gross. So, what changed?”
She leans back on her hands, her eyes a little hazy, like she’s remembering something that makes her happy. “I decided to try writing a book.”
I school my face, trying not to show her how interested I am in the direction of this conversation. “It must have been hard to do that while you were working.”
She smiles. “It really wasn’t. I mean, I had no clue what I was doing, or if it would be any good, but it was like I had this idea I couldn’t get out of my head. I was working full time, so the onlytime I really had to write was at night. I would get home and decompress for a while, then open my laptop and write until I couldn’t see straight. Then I would go to sleep and do it all over again the next day. I think I wrote my entire first book after dark, and I loved it. When it was just me and my laptop on the couch in the dark, it felt like I was the only person awake in the entire world. I know it sounds crazy, but it felt like I was the most myself during those late nights. Like, for the first time in so long, I had something that belonged only to me. Something no one else could touch.”
Hannah looks at me, embarrassment crossing her face. “Sorry, I kind of got carried away there. I guess that’s a long-winded way of saying that, at some point, I turned myself into a night owl. I can still appreciate an early morning, but for the past couple of years, I’ve been a creature of the night. Just me and my laptop in the dark.”
I smile. “Same.”
Hannah furrows her brow. “You and your laptop in the dark?”
“No, me as a creature of the night.” I laugh, enjoying the shit out of her.
“Isn’t that kind of par for the course? I figured any doctor who did a residency became a night person.”
“Maybe, but I was a night person years before I became a doctor. I always hated going to sleep as a kid. My brothers would be long asleep, and I would still be bouncing around the house, coming up with every excuse I could to stay up. It drove my mom insane.”
Hannah laughs. “I bet it did. With four boys, I bet she was practically crying for some alone time after you were all asleep.”
“She definitely was, and I was always the one who foiled her plans. She never forced me to go to sleep, though. I think she knew it would be useless, and Pam Wyles never fights a battle she can’t win.”
“So basically, you’ve been fighting sleep for thirty years?”
I chuckle, reaching for another Oreo. “Pretty much. It comesin handy when I’m on call in the middle of the night. And…other times.”
“Like when?” Hannah asks, her eyes alight with a sort of curiosity that tells me she’s actually interested in this conversation, and I decide to take a little chance.
“Like when I run into a pretty girl on the roof in the middle of the night and we share snacks and secrets.”
Something flashes in Hannah’s eyes that looks almost like interest. It’s a blink and you’ll miss it moment, but I didn’t blink, so I definitely didn’t miss it. I give the universe a mental fist bump becausefuck yes.
Hannah sets her mouth in a stubborn line. “I haven’t told you any secrets.”
I narrow my eyes at her playfully. “Haven’t you? I mean, you told me you broke up with your boyfriend.”
She rolls her eyes. “That was, like, the farthest thing from a secret that I have. Literally everyone knows.”
“Well, I didn’t know, so it was a secret from me.”
“But I didn’t know you didn’t know, so I don’t think it counts as one of my secrets.”
I consider that. “Okay, fair point. Have you ever told anyone else about writing your books late at night? How it made you feel?”
She thinks for a minute, and when surprise crosses her face, I feel like I’ve won some kind of prize. “Strangely, I don’t think I have.”
I grin triumphantly. “See? I’m telling you, Han, it’s the middle of the night rooftop magic. Want to tell me another secret?”
“Keep dreaming, pal.”
I just adore the sarcasm dripping from her voice. “Come on. Just one tiny little secret.”
Hannah taps a finger to her lips like she’s thinking. The move immediately has my gaze dropping to her mouth, and for one overwhelming second, I wonder what it would feel like to haveher lips on mine. What she would taste like. What sounds she would make. Where else on her body I could put my lips.
Don’t get hard. Don’t get hard. Don’t get hard.
“I don’t think you’ve told me a secret yet.”
