Page 31 of Reckless Roses
“I wrote a book.”
His brows shoot up, and his mouth scrunches to the side, as if to hold back laughter, instantly sending a flood of nerves to my stomach and an embarrassed flush to my face. My cheeks grow hot as he huffs a laugh and asks, “A book? What kind of book?”
I clear my throat awkwardly, looking around the room—anywhere but at him. “Well…you know I like romance and I like thrillers and…I like dark romance books that kind of mix the two together.” I’m rambling, trying to explain myself. “I… I just hadthis idea of like…what if you took the villain—a killer—and what if they were actually just misunderstood the whole time? What if they also deserved a happy ending?”
I look at Zach again, and he raises an eyebrow, a smirk on his lips. “Are you serious? You wrote a romance book about a…serial killer?”
“Well…” I scratch my arm, restless with trepidation, suddenly anxious for his reaction. “She’s more of a vigilante. She only targets men who’ve done terrible things. And the detective assigned to her case starts to unravel the mystery and the motive. He finds out all the horrible things these men have done, and then he starts to suspect her, the main character. As he investigates, gets to know her, he realizes she’s not who he’s made her out to be. They fall in love.”
Zach’s jaw drops open as he stares at me in shock. “But…she killed people? Like actually murdered people, and you’re going to give her a happy ending? And what? Does she just keep killing people and the detective continues to cover it up?”
“Well…they kind of start killing people together, I guess? Kind of like a dark and twisted Bonnie and Clyde. They target the real villains of the world, and because he was a detective, he’s always able to keep them one step ahead of the law, and that’s what happily ever after looks like to them.”
Zach laughs roughly, dragging a hand down his face. “That is insane, Elena. Absolutely insane.”
“Oh,” is my only response.
“Sorry. I didn’t mean—” He shakes his head. “I knew you were into some morbid shit, but I had no idea it went that deep. I mean, you’re using a pen name, right? If you publish this?Doyou plan on publishing this?”
“I do.” I nod, my breath hardly a whisper. “I planned on publishing, and I hadn’t thought much about the name I publish under.”
“You have to use a pen name, Elena. I mean…I appreciate what you’re doing here. I think it’s cool, I do, but you’ve got to protect yourself.” He leans forward, grabbing my hand. “How do you expect to keep a real job ifthatkind of book comes up every time someone searches you online? Do you really want your identity associated with that?”
Thatkind of book.
I rip my hand from his grasp. “I know there are benefits to using a pen name, but none of them have anything to do with my ability to maintain arealjob.” I hold up my fingers to make air quotes. “If I was ashamed of what I wrote, I wouldn’t have written it. Of course I want to be associated with the art I created, Zach.”
“You know what I mean, Elena. You can’t let a hobby determine the rest of your life. You need to have a backup plan because the odds of you making any money?—”
“First of all, I didn’t do this to make money. I did it because I love stories and I love to write. Secondly, what is wrong withwantingto earn money from my passion? Why is it assumed I wouldn’t?”
He tilts his head, giving me a deadpan expression. “C’mon, Elena. Do you know the percentage of authors who are able to make a full-time income from publishing their work? It’s like…minuscule.”
I roll my eyes, snorting. “Do you know what August said when I told him about this? When I explained my idea to him?” Zach’s jaw ticks as his nostrils flare. “He told me he loved the way my brain works. He didn’t tell me I was insane and ask me what kind of mask I planned to hide behind when I shared my art with the rest of the world.”
Zach swallows, and I watch my words land, knowing exactly what would hurt him most. “You told my brother before you told me?”
I nod.
“Has he read it?”
I nod again.
“How long has he known?”
“Since I decided I wanted to write a book at all.”
His gaze narrows. “And that was?”
“Eleventh grade.” Around four years ago. I’ve written multiple stories in that time frame, but never anything I felt was worth sharing with the world, not until this one popped into my brain a few months ago and flowed from my fingertips like water.
Real hurt flashes across Zach’s eyes, but he covers it quickly, dropping a bomb of his own. “My brother doesn’t mean half the shit he says to you, Elena. He’ll tell you whatever he thinks you want to hear because he wants to fuck you.”
Those words are like a sucker punch to my stomach, the force of it rising into my throat, exiting my mouth in a choked laugh. “That’s not?—”
“Please,” he scoffs. “August is in love with you.” He gives me an unconvincing smile. “And before you get too excited about that, just remember—the only reason my brother wants you so bad is because you’re in love with me. He’s always pining after what’s mine.”
“You speak of me like I’m a toy you don’t want to share.”
