Page 45 of The Write Track
“We’renot going to let him do that,” I clarified. “You’re strong, obviously, but he’s going to try to get through your defenses to deal a killing blow. You have friends who want to help you. Let us.”
“How?” She looked so small sitting next to me on the couch. “How are we going to ruin this entire thing for him so he won’t want to ever meet another author in his life?”
I laughed at her phrasing. “See, now we’re talking.” I squeezed her hand. She hadn’t even realized I’d been holding it. At least I didn’t think she had. A little zing went through me whenever I touched her. That was just because she was cute, I told myself. I wasn’t interested in her like that. I just didn’t like it when people took advantage of other people, which was what this guy was trying to do to her.
I wouldn’t stand for that.
“We need to be somewhat affectionate around the campground,” I said to her. “I know it might feel weird—like really, really weird—but if he’s staying here, then he’s going to be watching us constantly. You can’t act uncomfortable when you’re around me.”
“So… we hold hands?” she asked, wrinkling her delicate nose.
“Amongst other things,” I confirmed.
Her eyes narrowed. “What other things?”
“Nothing that will make you feel uncomfortable,” I assured her. “That is not what I want.”
“So no kissing?”
“I happen to be an excellent kisser.”
“That’s far too personal, though.”
“Okay, but if we never kiss—not even on the cheek or hand—that is going to make him suspicious.”
“Don’t you think that’s a slippery slope?” she countered. “If we start kissing for show, won’t that lead to kissing for real?”
I snorted at the suggestion. “No offense, because you really are cute as a button, but I’m not looking for a relationship. You obviously aren’t either. You’re still trying to get over what he did to you.”
She straightened. “I’m over it.” She said it with such determination I wanted to reward her, tell her she was stronger than she realized. She was not over it, however.
“He makes your skin crawl,” I noted. “It’s obvious whenever you’re around him. He sees it too. That’s why he pushes the way he does.”
“If he knows he makes my skin crawl, why would he possibly pretend to want me back?”
“Because it’s a game to him. I think maybe it always was.”
She fell silent as she thought about it. “Right when we met in college, there was this guy named Jake. We were friends, bothhad an interest in art, and he was always encouraging me to branch out with different mediums.”
“I didn’t realize you were an artist.” For some reason, even though it was ridiculous to feel this way, I wanted to travel through time and smack Jake across the face. He might have been a good guy—Bella obviously thought so—but he wasn’t worthy of her. Maybe nobody was.
“I like dabbling in that stuff.” She smiled, as if remembering something funny. “There has never been a craft phase that my mother did not want to fully embrace. That includes decoupage, Taylor Swift friendship bracelets, adult coloring books, and ribbon art.”
“What’s ribbon art?”
“Nothing a boy would be interested in.”
“Okay.” I swallowed hard and pushed forward even though I didn’t want to talk about Jake. “Was this Jake an artist?”
“Yeah. He was really good too. He had this skater-boy thing going for him.”
Yup, I definitely hated this guy, especially the smile he put on her face.
“We flirted a bit, but it wasn’t a big deal,” she continued. “It was one of those ‘maybe it will happen’ things that kind of pops up in college. Do you know what I’m talking about?”
“Not really. I slept with everybody in college and then moved on after a few weeks.”
“Why doesn’t that surprise me?”
