“My book,” I murmur.
Bowen smiles so wide that his dimples pop, “Really?”
I nod with excitement, grateful to change the subject, “Which means I can start querying agents. Most of them want the first one or two chapters, and they have to be stellar, so…” I bite my bottom lip, “will you read them and tell me what you think?”
Bowen arches his eyebrows, “Me?”
“Yes. Because you’ll tell me the truth, but maybe you’ll be nicer about it than some burnt out agent who gets 500 of these a day and doesn’t like my paragraph structure.”
He shoots me a salacious grin, “I thought you didn’t like when I’m nice to you.”
“You can be mean to me back there,” I toss my head back to the dark hallway leading to the bedroom, “but I need you to be kind and professional up here, at least right now.”
“I got you, baby girl,” Bowen rocks forward and sits up, “I’ll handle your hopes and dreams with care. Where’s your laptop?”
I jump up to retrieve it from the kitchen table, handing it over the back of the sectional.
He leans back into the corner of the cushions and opens my laptop, “What’s your password?”
“Beeswax.” I say as I collapse onto the cushion at the end of his feet.
“Why’s your password beeswax?” he asks as he types.
I shoot him a side-eye, “Because it’s none of yours.”
Bowen looks up and stares at me for a moment, letting it sink in. When it finally clicks, he leans his head back against the cushion with a laugh, “God, you’re cute,” he shakes his head.
I should leave the room. I should go and do something mundane to keep me busy while Bowen reads the first two chapters of my book. I don’t know why I’m so nervous. Maybe it’s because I’ve never let anyone else on the planet read my writing. So, I space out, letting my eyes wander over the bookshelves, from the titles that were already there on the first two shelves to mine on the third and fourth.
The Outsiders, The Sun Also Rises, Carrie…
Carrie…
I shake my head as a chill runs up my neck.
Stop…
“You know,” Bowen finally glances up from behind the screen, “I can’t stand these kinds of books, but this is really good.”
I look over his shoulder at the bookshelves, “What are you talking about?” I furrow my brow, “You have Gillian Flynn on your shelf!”
Bowen doesn’t look up from the screen, “Those are Hildy’s.”
“Then why are they here?”
“Appearances.”
“For who?” I snap.
Without a word, Bowen glances at me over the edge of the laptop screen while I stare back at him, waiting, “Worked on you, didn’t it?” he deadpans.
“You don’t read?” I scoff.
“Oh, I read,” he shifts his focus back to the screen, “just not those.”
I guess he has a point. He never said if he’s ever read the books on his shelf.
Finally, Bowen shuts the laptop and slings his arms behind his head, “I was right,” he casts me a devious look, “you do have some darkness in you.”
“Dark enough for an agent to pick me up?”
Bowen sets my laptop down on the coffee table and reaches out to me. I take his hand and let him pull me, crawling over his legs, to the corner of the sofa. I settle into his lap, straddling his hips as he wraps his arms around my waist.
“I want to read the rest of it,” he gazes at me with admiration, “that’s how good it is.”
“Seriously?”
He gives a sharp nod, “Send it. Make yourself famous, baby girl.”
●●●
I don’t see anyone else outside as I exit the building and make my way down the concrete path to the pin oaks. Colson is waiting for me at one of the steel picnic tables just as I told him to, munching on a bag of pretzels. When I sit down across from him, he reaches down and then slides something across the table. It’s a shaker bottle with a thick, orange liquid inside.
I pop the cap on the bottle and give it a sniff, “What’s this?” I immediately recognize the aroma and look up at him with a pursed smile, “Did you seriously bring me a mango smoothie?”
“Trust me, it’s way better than those Naked mango ones with the protein grit that you used to like.” Then he furrows his brow with suspicion, “You’re not lactose intolerant now or some shit, are you?”
I almost burst out laughing, “No, I’m not lactose intolerant now or some shit.” I reach into my bag and pull out a container of lemon-flavored Greek yogurt and drop it on the table. “Thank you.”
