Page 12 of Room 1212

He frowned. “I can’t help but notice that you’re not taking back what you said, though. Do you still believe it to be true?”

I sucked in a deep breath. I had to tread carefully, or I would end up making things worse instead of better. “Uh, well…” He leaned in, waiting for my answer. “I believe that… your books are a little cliché,but,” I quickly moved to tack on, “there is something to be said for the comfort and enjoyment they bring your readers. Sometimes, we all need to know exactly what to expect and not be disappointed.”

“Huh,” he said, leaning back in his chair. “Comfort. I like that.”

“Good, I’m glad.” I nodded firmly, proud of myself. There. Guilt assuaged. “Well, then I suppose I will let you get back to your work. I’m sure you’re busy writing your next novel.”

I was about to turn away but stopped when he said, “Actually, I can’t seem to write a single word.”

“You can’t?” I asked, confused.

He gave me a helpless shrug. “It’s been like this for weeks. My muse seems to have quit.”

Had I done more damage with my careless comments than I thought? “I-I’m sorry if that’s my fault. I really didn’t mean anything by it.”

He didn’t deny it. Instead, he stared at me as though debating something. “Actually, this is kinda perfect. Maybe you can help me. Do you want to join me for lunch?” he asked, indicating the seat across from him.

The table was covered with his stuff. He’d probably been working here for hours. “I don’t think so. This feels like I’m intruding.”

“Not at all.” To prove his point, he closed his laptop and slid it back into his bag. “I would love to ask you a few questions. Maybe it’ll get my creative juices flowing.” I didn’t want to think about hisjuices.

“Uh… I guess…” I hadn’t been looking forward to eating in my car, or worse, taking the food back to work with me, where I would be judged for not bringing enough to share. I lowered myself into the seat and pulled out my food. “I’m Drew Webber, by the way,” I said.

He snorted, smirking. “Drew, like who I signed the book for?”

I grinned sheepishly. “What can I say? Comfort.” I couldn’t believe he remembered my name. “What did you want to ask me?”

“So, let me just tell you about this book I’m writing, and you tell me what you think. It takes place in this alternate earth. Imagine for a second that a portal opened up downtown and an interspecies war spilled out into Main Street. So, there’s this evil alien king who kidnaps… Why are you wincing?”

Gods, he’d barely started and already I was making faces? I hadn’t even been aware I was doing it. “Oh, sorry. It’s just…”

“Cliché?” he asked, smirking. There was that word again.

“Well, yeah,” I admitted reluctantly. “Every one of your books has the same recurring themes. You always have this evil lord or king, and they always focus their wrath on this poor innocent omega who’s done nothing wrong, but it’s okay, because there’s always this big, strong alpha to come save him. And then they have sex, and surprise! A baby!” I clamped my lips shut, regretting my outburst. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

“No, it’s okay, I need to hear it. Lay it on me.” He pulled a notebook and pen out of his bag. Was he going to take notes? “Okay, so no kidnapping?” he asked, scribbling furiously.

“I guess that’s okay, because a book without conflict is just… unreadable, but maybe you could have the omega save himself. He’s capable of being strong too.”

“Right, right,” he mumbled, jotting down a few notes. “Now, you mentioned you thought the cocks should be smaller.”

“Did I say that? That doesn’t sound like me at all. I honestly love a huge cock,” I said, chuckling, before biting my tongue.I can’t believe I just said that.

“Don’t we all,” he said, laughing. “Now, when it comes to the sex, what would you like to see more of?”

My spoonful of soup was hovering in the air halfway to my mouth, which was hanging open, and there was nothing I could do to close it. Were we seriously talking about sex? “Uhhh, well, I guess they could just have sex without the baby? Like, maybe you could make condoms sexy, ya know?”

“I like that,” he said, jotting it down. “And do you think it should be kinkier? I’m not averse to a little light bondage, maybe some toys, but please don’t suggest furry costumes, because I don’t think I can do that.” He shuddered.

Bondage? Toys? I shifted in my seat, trying to scrub away the erotic images flashing through my brain, all of which involved a certain author. My dick was thickening in my pants. I cleared my throat and hoped I wasn’t blushing. “I don’t understand. Why are you trying to change anything? Your books are all bestsellers. You don’t need to change a thing.”

He shook his head. “No, you were right. My books are silly.”

“Hey, I never said they were silly!” I huffed.

“No, but that was what you meant.”

“That wasn’t what I meant at all,” I exclaimed in indignation, “and I don’t appreciate you assuming you know what I’m thinking. If you want to know, just ask.” I didn’t like that he’d taken that leap. I hadn’t meant to imply anything of the sort. Everyone I knew loved his books, myself included.

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