Page 28 of The Ending is the Best Part
Ah, there he is, that’s the Xander I know, who loves to avoid any subject that involves real emotions.I can visibly see the walls start to build back up slightly, like he’s already bracing himself for the worst-case scenario.That hurts me more than I care to admit but I’ll be okay.I always am.With that he leaves and the room gets noticeably colder.Perhaps it’s a sign of what’s to come.Maybe I shouldn’t let myself get too used to him.
Chapter Sixteen
Three Weeks Left
Xander drives until we reach a cute café nestled in the woods, seemingly in the middle of nowhere.It reminds me of a fairytale cottage, hidden away from the world.Xander suggested this place as somewhere to get some work done before we head back home… back to reality.
The Kabin.Huh, original. I snort with a chuckle and Xander’s lips tug up slightly and he touches my shoulder as he opens the door for me.Inside, the café is an oasis of cosiness.Wood-panelled walls, a crackling fireplace, a mismatch of soft sofas and armchairs in different colours, with cushions and throws strewn across them.There are huge bookcases lining the walls, full of dusty-looking hardbacks and well-thumbed holiday reads that backpackers have discarded.Peaceful.It’s the perfect escape from the whirlwind of emotions I’ve experienced since Xander picked me up yesterday morning.I close my eyes and breathe it in, and all I can think is,Wow, this is a writer’s paradise.
I spot a nice area by the window with two chairs and a large wooden table and make my way towards it.I make a comfy makeshift office for us, getting out my laptop and ordering a large black coffee for him and a chai latte for me.
I take a quick look at Xander, who has taken the seat across from me, pulling out his signature notebook.A pile of loose papers spill onto the table, and I watch closely as he arranges them into some sort of order that can only make sense to him.His brow furrows in concentration and his lips purse slightly.It’s a cute, boyish expression that makes my heart glow.I’ve always admired that Xander can absorb himself in his work, eventually emerging with an incredible solution to a plot problem all the other writers have been pondering for days.
The longer I watch him, the more I feel a creeping sense of dread.The trip is coming to an end.We’re going to drive back tonight.Will he look at me, talk to me the same way when we get back to London?I know so much more about him now, why he is the way he is, and I’ve seen his vulnerabilities.And he knows about me and my ambitions and how much I want to make my parents proud in a career they don’t understand.We can’t just forget those things about each other, can we?
This feels like a precious moment, and I want more of them.There’s so much unresolved between us.Yes, we still have the finale to finish, but there’s everything else too.I’m still trying to figure out my feelings, but now one emotion stands out above all the rest, one that I’m unfortunately familiar with.Fear.I’m not sure how to deal with Xander and the way he can just retreat into himself at times, shutting me out without communication.Or the way that every time we seem to make progress, becoming friends like he said, he still keeps me at arm’s length.
Xander looks away from his notes and catches my eye.‘You got anything?’
I clear my throat and sit up straighter in my chair.‘I do.I’ve been thinking about that scene we couldn’t agree on, the ending between Layla and Atticus.I think maybe we could…’ My words trail off and I pause as I navigate putting my idea into words.
‘Yeah?’ Xander looks at me intently.His attention is completely zeroed in on me, which makes me squirm.
‘What if Atticus betrays Layla, like you said.But instead of it being an all-out betrayal, we later find out that it’s for her own good?’ I get to the edge of my seat, starting to talk more passionately because I really thinkthis is it.‘Like… he has her closest advisor, Elaria, assassinated.Layla is devastated to lose her companion, but little does she know that Atticus actually does it because he believes it’s the only way to keep her safe.Because Elaria was a traitor all along and was planning to get Layla killed, but Layla will never find that out.
‘Layla wants to believe that he would never do that to her, never stoop that low, hurt her that much, but couldn’t he?He is the villain after all, so she has her doubts.He wants to reveal everything to her, but he can’t… at least not yet, which would be a great plotline for the next season.That way we still have the betrayal plot but it’s still giving the fans a sprinkle of the love story they want to see!It’s romantic and tragic at the same time.’
Xander is silent as he processes my words.I scan his face for some sort of reaction.His expression doesn’t give much away.But then his eyes light up, and a spark of excitement makes those stupid butterflies in my stomach erupt.
‘Wow, that’s… a great idea,’ he says with something akin to admiration.The look in his eyes takes my breath away, because over the years he’s never looked at me like he is now.Like he’s trulyseeingme.
‘The complexity of it really gives the characters depth, which will leave the audience wanting more.Will he ever find a way to reveal the truth to Layla before it’s too late?’ He scrabbles through his papers as he starts threading the plotlines together.‘It’s morally dark.It raises the question – who has the right to rule?When viewers see how it all plays out, they’ll realise how Layla’s reaction in the next season shapes her future.As well as what it means for the kingdom.’
‘You really think it’ll go down well?’
‘I know so,’ Xander says with such assertiveness that it fills me with complete confidence.‘It’s definitely a bit of a shift from what we originally had planned… But that doesn’t mean it’s a bad thing.You should write it, though.It’s your idea.It’ll be amazing.’
‘You sure you’re okay with that?With me taking the lead on this scene?’ I ask, the memory of that meeting with Meagan hitting me with full force.
Xander casually leans back in his chair.‘I don’t mind.You came up with the idea, it’s only fair that you get to run with it.’ He shrugs as if it’s as simple as that.Maybe it is.‘I know I’ve gone on about top billing, but may the best writer win, right?’
My mind is already running through all the possibilities of how I should write the scene.It feels good to be on the same page as him.
He’s scribbling furiously at his notebook as I start typing up the last scene on my laptop.He looks up to ponder something, his beautiful face turning towards the fireplace.The flames cast undulating shadows over each of his features, highlighting them anew for me.His sharp nose, his curious green eyes, his strong brow.A question creeps into my mind and I feel we’re in a good enough place for me to ask, ‘So… How did you get into writing?’
His hand pauses mid-air over his notebook.I want to know more about him.I want to know everything I can.
He takes a moment before he responds.‘I guess… I have this need to understand,’ he murmurs.‘I’ve always had an interest in stories but, when I started writing, it was because I wanted to make sense of… certain things.Things I couldn’t quite figure out on my own because I didn’t really have anyone to ask.All sorts, emotions, relationships…’ He looks at me, before saying carefully, ‘Love.’ He pauses.‘I mean that one obviously hasn’t been my forte.’ He lets out a sarcastic laugh before his gaze rests on me again.‘But I think… I think I might have a better understanding of it now.’
If someone had told me two months ago that we’d be sitting across a table from each other, not only getting along but talking seriously about love, I wouldn’t have believed them.In fact, I would have probably laughed in their face.But here we are.
We stare at each other for a while, neither of us wanting to break the spell.I hadn’t expected so much honesty from him.I wish we could just stay here in this intimate café.I could almost believe it’s our living room.The piles of books.The warm glow of the fire.Him, me, sharing a table to write on.This could be us, for ever.
After a few solid hours of writing, we’ve drafted about half of the finale.With the outline that we developed back in London, I’m confident we’ll be able to deliver a full draft before the deadline.There’s a sleepy atmosphere in the café and we still have to drive back to London, so we make a plan about who’s going to take the lead on the remaining scenes.We agree, though, that we’ll collaborate throughout the process.Meagan was right.This trip really has got us into the flow of working together.
Feeling satisfied with everything we’ve accomplished on the trip, I lean back in my armchair.As casually as I can, I ask what’s been playing on my mind since our hike.‘You ever think you’ll change your mind about love?That two people – two characters, I mean – could maybe find each other and stay together?’ I can’t decide whether I want him to hear the hope in my question or not.
His eyes are serious as he peers at me.‘I don’t know… Maybe?’ He sounds uncertain.‘Writing with you, it’s taught me new ways of seeing the world.New possibilities.But I’m still not sure if I’m ready to believe in it right now.At least not in the way other people do.I don’t know if I ever will.’
