Page 84 of Rewrite the Rules

Joel lifts my chin gently so my eyes meet his. His smile is warm chicken soup to an angry sore throat. The adoring look that claims his face is my comfort. His lips that touch mine are my cure. “I like kissing you,” he murmurs into my mouth.

I open my lips and release my eager tongue, but Joel pulls away.

“What if tonight we eat dinner, you turn on yourSex and the Cityreruns like I know you’re dying to, and we can talk about your book ideas and how big of an asshole this Ted guy is.”

I half laugh. Yeah, Ted’s an asshole, but he also gave me a second chance, and so for that, he’s forgiven.

“And after?”

“And after, we’ll just kiss until we fall asleep.”

“Are you sure?” A wave of emotion crashes over me. I don’t want to cry, so I have to release the pressure with some lame joke. “I don’t have a guest room.”

Joel groans miserably. “I’m never going to live that down, huh?”

“Nope,” I say with my chirp returning. This conversation is taking us almost back to normal. I successfully dodge the emotional missile that was headed straight for my heart. “Never.”

“Okay, Baby Spice, eat your food.”

Joel picks up his fork and begins stabbing the crunchy pieces of lettuce. He constructs the perfect bite each time. A little green, a tiny piece of tomato, a few shreds of cheese, and a crouton to top it off.

“What?” he asks when he sees me staring at him like a loon.

“Nothing.” I shake my head and brush off his question because there is no way in hell I can admit that I’m falling in love with him. There’d be a Joel-shaped hole in my wall…in my heart.

“So, tell me—he actually said he hated your pitch?”

“Oooh, no. Ted didn’t say he hated it, he just said he liked absolutely nothing about it. But you know, at least he was gentle when he said my characters sucked and he didn’t care if they died.”

“You’re shitting me.” Joel’s forehead crinkles in both pity and amusement.

“Nope! Then I’m pretty sure he hung up on me to go have dinner with Scarlett Johansson.”

“What? All right, start at the beginning. Tessa called you about the book on Sunday?”

Joel listens patiently as I rattle off every detail about my happenstance luck of the draw. The opportunity that will make or break me as an author. He hangs on every word, offering me encouragement at each turn and cringing at all the painful parts of my conversation with Ted. He holds me and tells me I just need to relax. Inspiration is on the way.

Little does he know it’s already here. The way Joel scrunches his nose every time he smiles at me. The way his heartbeat relaxes with my head against his chest. The way he moans sweetly when he kisses me. The way his hands behave tonight, leaving my sex and my breasts alone, making good on his promise—kissing and cuddling only.

It comes to me in an instant.

That sparkly lightbulb illuminates all the dark, dusty corners of my mind. It’s always been there. I just needed to flick on the switch. I already have all the source material I desperately need about love. Now, I just have to be brave enough to put it on the page.

twenty-nine

Adler

november

I’m on top of the world.Or Denver at least. The Colorado air is known for being thin, but on top of Joel’s penthouse balcony the light breeze feels even wispier.

I lean over the glass ledge and let the view take my breath away. The neighboring skyscrapers are lit up by thousands of bright lights gleaming through the neatly spaced windows and doors. The buildings look like art against the dark navy sky. The shadow of the mountains nestled in the background balances the cityscape perfectly. Bustling city meets the mountain wilderness in one picturesque view. Two contrasting renditions of life blended into one harmonious backdrop. This is exactly why I made Denver my home. I have everything here, I don’t have to choose.

The sliding door opens then closes. Heavy footsteps approach from behind. I don’t turn my head. By now I recognize his walk. I can sense his presence. Ever since the kissing night—as I’ve dubbed it—I let myself fall. We’ve been inseparable. He’s touched me in every way imaginable. Our bodies have been intertwined nonstop for weeks straight. And it’s still not enough.

Joel’s had me in every position. I’ve screamed at decibels only dogs can hear. We’re at it daily. More than daily—on most days, twice a day. We were supposed to be professional at the office—we’ve both bruised our knees on several occasions behind his locked office door. The desire wasn’t calming. Our heat—far from cooling. Our hunger was only growing. He’s become an expert at toggling between sweet kisses and the dirtiest of talk, knowing exactly how to coax out the most shameless side of me.

Joel wraps his large frame around me, resting one of his forearms just outside of mine on the balcony rail. He is the best windbreaker. His other arm slinks around my hips that are jutted outwards as I bend over and lean into the view that makes me feel like I’m flying. It’s like I could just step off right here and soar over the city.

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