Page 11 of Heart of Glass

“Me, too.” What the hell? He didn’t like pineapples, especially not on his freaking pizza. Lachlan didn’t know what had possessed him to say that, but he also couldn’t make his tongue work right to retract his statement, either.

“Great.” Bending slightly to accommodate their four-inch height difference, Xeno smoothed his lips over Lachlan’s and dipped his tongue inside for a quick taste. “Mmm, I’ll see you soon, sweetheart.”

Lachlan refused to swoon. He absolutely would not sigh, touch his lips, or go all starry-eyed. Well, not until Xeno left anyway. After that, all bets were off.

His heart hammered, his skin tingled, and a thin sheen of sweat beaded across his forehead. A cramp began in his lower back, spreading down through his hip, but nothing could shake his focus. Nothing, except his ringing cell phone.

Without checking the display, he slid his forefinger across the screen and tapped the speakerphone button. “MacAuley.” Then he reset his fingers on the keyboard and continued typing, eager to discover where his heroes would lead him next.

“Lachlan? Where are you? What’s that noise?”

“I’m at home. Where else would I be?”

“Oh, I don’t know, how about at my office?” Grady sounded annoyed, but Lachlan got the sense it had little to do with him. “Our session started ten minutes ago.”

Lachlan saved the document, closed his laptop, and pushed away from the desk. “Grady, I’m sorry. I started writing, and I guess I just lost track of time.” It wasn’t uncommon for him to disappear inside his own head and lose hours at a time while working on a new novel. “Can we reschedule?” He’d missed one session, not his own funeral.

“Did you sleep?”

“Yes. I slept all night actually.”

Silence hung on the line for a few moments before Grady spoke again. “Have you eaten today?”

“Breakfast.”

“What about lunch?”

Lachlan checked the clock on his phone, shocked but pleased to find he’d been writing for almost six hours. “Like I said, I’ve been working. I’m having pizza tonight, though…with pineapples.” The last part of that made him laugh, and he still couldn’t believe how he’d fawned all over Xeno.

“Okay, well congrats on the writing, but your health is important, too. Grab a snack to hold you until dinner.”

“Yes, Mom.”

“I mean it, and I want to see you on Monday.”

“Okay, fine. I gotta get back to work. I’ll talk to you later.” He disconnected the call without giving Grady a chance to say anything else. Then he opened his laptop, brought up his work in progress, and set his fingers to the keyboard once again.

The excitement returned instantly, and the click clack of the keys sounded like a melody, a soundtrack to his life highlighting all the greatest moments. Logically, he knew that sounded ridiculous, and most people wouldn’t understand, but as a wordsmith, it made perfect sense to him. The words poured onto the page, flowing like water down a hillside, and Lachlan’s only worry in that space of time was that his fingers wouldn’t be able to keep up with his thoughts.

While he knew he hadn’t experienced nightmares during the night, he hadn’t remembered the amazing dreams, either, not until after Xeno had left for work. At first, they were just pictures, jumbled visions that played on a speed reel. Asthe morning progressed, though, the glimpses grew longer, accompanied with a rich and full dialogue, and eventually, Lachlan had been able to piece together most of the fantasy world.

Normally, he preferred the gritty reality of a contemporary, or the scientific possibilities when building a sci-fi world. None of this backlist included fantasy or paranormal elements, not until now, and he found himself just as excited about the prospect of exploring a new genre as he was about the story itself.

Only four chapters into the new book, and he could see why so many authors preferred the genre. The possibilities were limitless, and the rules were made to be broken. He wrote more freely, not bogged down with research or the necessity to double and triple check every minute detail. In this newest adventure, the details were whatever he wanted them to be, and he had to admit molding this entire world from scratch made him feel a little like a god.

When the pain in his hip finally became too much to bear, Lachlan saved what he’d written, shutdown his computer, and went to find the list of stretches Grady had printed out for him. In his excitement to finally be writing again, he’d pushed too hard and overworked himself, but damn, he hadn’t been so excited in months.

“I’m back, bitches.”

Twenty minutes of stretches and a doctor prescribed hydrocodone eased the pain in his hip, but Lachlan still felt soreand stiff. He’d have to find a more comfortable way to work and be sure to take breaks every half hour, but he’d make it work. Nothing would stop him from writing again.

Since he still had a couple of hours until he needed to meet Xeno at the café, he decided to take Grady’s advice and find something to tide him over until dinner. The only thing edible in his apartment turned out to be leftover skillet potatoes from breakfast, so Lachlan pulled a pan out of the cabinet, drizzled a little olive oil in it, and turned on the burner.

His apartment came equipped with all the modern conveniences one would expect, but he really hated the mushy, soggy taste of microwaved food. An errant thought floated through his head, starting with “what if” and evolving into a new, complex concept. All day he’d been writing, but he’d yet to find a suitable weakness for his hero. Perhaps he’d just discovered one.

Hurrying back to his desk as quickly as his damaged leg would allow, he booted up his laptop, cursing it the entire time for its slow start time. Once he had the manuscript open on his screen, however, he felt giddy about the new direction his story would take. Not only did he take pride in originality, but he loved to throw in twists and turns to keep his readers engaged right up to the end.

He’d intended to only jot down a few notes, but one idea spun into the next, and with each new twist, Lachlan reached new levels of excitement he didn’t know were possible. When he finally dragged himself out of his story to answer the call of nature, however, that excitement quickly morphed into panic.

---