Page 9 of The Love Interest
As she pours, I grin up at her. “You having a good night?”
“Sure.” And off she goes again.
Welp. At least she answered me this time. Last night I came in with my laptop, and she rolled her eyes as soon as she saw me. Tonight, I brought my notebook. Because people who write in notebooks aren’t just here for the free Wi-Fi. People with notebooks might order something other than coffee and a slice of pie over the course of two hours. I didn’t. Not tonight. But one day I might.
“Thank you, Ellen! You’re the best!” I call out to her, perhaps a little too loudly. Handsome Guy glances over at me while sipping his strawberry milkshake. Nowthatis something you don’t see every day. A handsome, blue-eyed, golden-skinned, light-brown-haired grown man enjoying a milkshake by himself at a diner at nearly four in the morning. Although he doesn’t even seem to be enjoying it, really. It’s like he’s forcing himself to enjoy it.
I wonder what his story is.
Golden Boy. He looks like his name is…Parker. Or Blake. Parker Blakewood. Or Blake Parkington. To the manor born. He’s probably a lawyer. Not corporate. Intellectual property, maybe. Wears great suits during the day, but at night he puts on really expensive jeans and button-down shirts, drafts letters of trademark infringement while sipping really expensive Scotch and listening to smooth jazz. Doesn’t look like a player or anything, but he does look like he could get any woman he wanted if he wanted to. He also looks…melancholy. Like there’s some woman he wants but he can’t have.
Maybesheliked milkshakes. Drinking milkshakes reminds him of her. It makes him happy and wistful at the same time.
Oooh, I like that. I open up my notebook again because I can have William do that—not with a milkshake, obviously. I’m pretty sure they didn’t drink milkshakes in Regency England, but a particular kind of tea that the heroine likes, perhaps? I need to research what else they drank back then. Shit, I wish I had my laptop with me.
But also, fuck you, William.
He’s not wrong, but fuck him.
Sure, it would be great to feel inspired.
I would absolutely love to have sex right now, but I just need to write.
That’s what professional writers do—they just write. And I’m going to be a professional writer. Eventually.
Except the whole reason I’m in New York is because life is short and it’s time for me to seize the day and all that. To follow my bliss. To live the life of passion that I had shunned for a life of practicality. I’m here for me and for my mom. And I know exactly what my mom would want me to be doing right now. She’d want me to do Frowny Handsome Guy.
So fuck me. You’re right, William. About everything.
My phone vibrates on the table, and I know before checking it that I got a text from my mom. The only other person who would text me at this hour is my roommate Jed, and he’s too busy trying to seduce someone in our apartment right now. I flip my phone over and see a notification from Sissy Walker. It’s after one in California, and I hate that she’s awake.
SISSY: You asleep?
ME: No. Why aren’t you?
SISSY: You didn’t send me a cock pic today. What’s up with that?
My mother is a folk artist. She owns a vegan restaurant, and she’s an energy healer, and she also makes folk art. She makes metal statues like the four-foot rooster named Goliath the Cock that she made me bring to New York so I can take pictures of him at different tourist attractions. A few years ago, if she had asked me to do this, I probably would have straight up told her to piss off. But I would do anything for her now.
ME: I worked a double shift today. Didn’t have time to go anywhere else. But since I can’t sleep, I was planning to go to Grand Central in a bit. Will pick up cock on the way.
SISSY: On the way from where?
ME: Diner. Writing. Why aren’t you asleep? You’re supposed to be asleep by ten.
SISSY: Tell that to your father. He’s been snoring since ten thirty. I was thinking you should start an Instagram account for the cock pics.
ME: Um. No.
SISSY: @NYCwithCockandMe
ME: Nope.
SISSY: @NYCCockPics4U
ME: Mother.
SISSY: @AGirlandHerCock
