Page 104 of In Sheets of Rain

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OK

“How’s the writing going?” Michael asked.

“It’s going. I’m making progress.”

“Good,” he said, watching me closely.

I stared at him as he stared at me.

“Why are you so invested in this story?” I asked.

“Because it’s a good story,” he said.

“You don’t know that. You don't know me.”

“I know I want to.”

“Want to what?”

“Read the story. Get to know the heroine. See her have a happy ending.”

“Happy endings are only found in books.”

He smiled. “Isn’t that what we’re talking about?” And then winked.

* * *

“I’m famished,” Michael said, leaning back in his chair and stretching.

I looked away. Flustered.

“Want to grab a bite to eat?” he asked.

“Where were you thinking?”

“There’s this little Italian restaurant down a back street in St Heliers. Makes the best bolognese.”

“A restaurant?” I said slowly.

“Yeah, you know, those places you go to where someone else cooks the meal?”

“I’m not sure,” I said, shuffling my papers.

“OK. Next time, then.”

* * *

Atakeaway coffee cup appeared before my eyes.

“Non-fat, caramel macchiato with no whip from Starbucks,” Michael declared.

“Wow,” I said, staring at the venti sized cup before me. “You really are slumming it.”

“Only for you, Trolley Girl. Only ever for you.”

And then he walked away.

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