Page 104 of In Sheets of Rain
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OK
“How’s the writing going?” Michael asked.
“It’s going. I’m making progress.”
“Good,” he said, watching me closely.
I stared at him as he stared at me.
“Why are you so invested in this story?” I asked.
“Because it’s a good story,” he said.
“You don’t know that. You don't know me.”
“I know I want to.”
“Want to what?”
“Read the story. Get to know the heroine. See her have a happy ending.”
“Happy endings are only found in books.”
He smiled. “Isn’t that what we’re talking about?” And then winked.
* * *
“I’m famished,” Michael said, leaning back in his chair and stretching.
I looked away. Flustered.
“Want to grab a bite to eat?” he asked.
“Where were you thinking?”
“There’s this little Italian restaurant down a back street in St Heliers. Makes the best bolognese.”
“A restaurant?” I said slowly.
“Yeah, you know, those places you go to where someone else cooks the meal?”
“I’m not sure,” I said, shuffling my papers.
“OK. Next time, then.”
* * *
Atakeaway coffee cup appeared before my eyes.
“Non-fat, caramel macchiato with no whip from Starbucks,” Michael declared.
“Wow,” I said, staring at the venti sized cup before me. “You really are slumming it.”
“Only for you, Trolley Girl. Only ever for you.”
And then he walked away.
