Chapter 5
CHAPTER FIVE
I texted Aiden almost an hour ago that I had finished the chapter. After he left Think Coffee, I was so mad I couldn’t see straight. We were stuck in this stupid project because neither of us could be nice to each other, but we had to at least try . I couldn’t mess up my second chance in this class.
We had a shared Google Doc for our project. Instead of sending each other chapters and scenes back and forth, it was easier to just have it all in one place. I’d also be able to see whenever he logged on and what changes he made to my writing … and if he got too cruel, I could change his writing, too.
After I texted him, I kept the doc open, waiting for his name to appear on the screen. I nervously bit my thumbnail, rereading the chapter, trying to see it through Aiden’s eyes.
I hadn’t intended for it to actually be good. I’d set up a feud between the two characters and had written some great banter that I was proud of. Maybe we could use some of it in the real first chapter, but for now, I had another goal in mind.
When Aiden’s name appeared on the doc, I pushed the bag of plantain chips off me and slid my laptop closer, watching his cursor go through each line. My heart was pounding by the time he finished, his cursor blinking on the last word.
Then my phone buzzed.
Aiden: Rewrite it.
I laughed giddily, stuffing my hand in the bag of plantains and shoving them into my mouth.
Rosie: no
Aiden: Rewrite it, we can’t submit this.
Rosie: why ever not
The three bubbles appeared and disappeared for the next minute. I was sitting hunched over my phone, anticipating his words, slowly chewing.
Aiden: Because the point of this assignment was for us to get along. Not to find another way to fight.
Rosie: i don’t know what you’re talking about
I fell back on my bed giggling. So what if I did have to rewrite it? At least I’d had the chance to piss him off.
Aiden: You named the main guy after me.
Rosie: his name’s not aiden
Aiden: No, his name is Hunter. Hunter … Huntington. I’m not stupid, Rosalinda.
I could picture the wrinkle between his eyebrows that always formed whenever he was pissed. I wondered if I’d made him mad enough to make the vein pop out from the side of his neck. The last time I’d done that was last semester when I said one of his main characters was whiny and had a superiority complex.
Rosie: hunter is a really common name. you need to get over yourself a little bit, i’m saying that as a friend
Aiden: Rewrite it.
I rolled my eyes and pulled my laptop up in front of me. The chapter was due at midnight so everyone had time to read it by tomorrow. I had already played my joke on him. It’d be easier for both of us if I just started something we could actually work with. My eyes snagged on a few of the lines, and I couldn’t help but reread the pages. I hesitated as my finger hovered over the backspace. It was pretty good. Honestly, I didn’t know if I could write something better. Even if it was just a joke, I’d put a lot of thought into this chapter.
Rosie: be honest … what would you think about it if the character wasn’t named hunter?
The three bubbles did their little dance again—up and down, up and down, for the next few minutes. I continued to shovel handfuls of plantain chips in my mouth, anticipating his harsh words.
Aiden: I’d say it was near perfect.
I straightened, rereading the words. An involuntary smile flitted across my face. His approval was rare and I hated how much I valued his opinion.
Rosie: then we should keep it!!!! no one’s going to know it’s you
Aiden: Everyone will know. Just change the name.
I snorted. If we were keeping it, we were keeping all of it. I heard Alexa open the front door and kick her shoes off, each thumping against the floor.
Rosie: sorry, can’t. i’m too attached. let me know when you finish our next chapter!!!:-)
I put my phone on silent and slid off my small bed. I found Alexa in our tiny kitchen, pulling off the tie from her Hideout uniform.
“Hey, how was work?”
She gave me a murderous glare. “Trabaja los fines de semana.”
“My brain hurts, English please,” I begged.
She tsked. “Si nuncas practicas tu espa ? ol, nunca aprender á s.”
When she discovered I wasn’t fluent in Spanish, Alexa had made it her personal mission to teach me. Coming from a mixed household, I’d mostly spoken English growing up. It wasn’t until I moved to New York and tried to share my heritage with others that I felt any less Peruvian for being mixed. It was like other Peruvians thought I wasn’t as in tune with my culture just because I couldn’t conjugate in the preterit instinctually or had to really focus when listening in on conversations in Spanish. But I wore red on Peruvian Independence Day and cooked lomo saltado when I missed home (okay, I asked Alexa to, but still).
“I know, I know.” I waved her off. “I’ve been writing for the past few hours, my brain is mush.”
She sighed, relenting. “I want you to work weekends.”
“No way.” I shook my head.
“Benji is so terrible at the bar! They mess up every drink anyone orders, and they spend the whole time flirting with their partner!”
“I can’t,” I said apologetically.
“But why?” she whined, stomping her foot.
“Because,” I dragged out. “The weekends are my only time to write. And y’all make the weekend shifts sound like absolute hell. If I can avoid them, I’m going to.”
“But if you start working weekends, you’ll have more money to go home in time for Thanksgiving and take more classes.” Alexa grabbed a mug from the cupboard and shoved the kettle under the faucet. Each of her moves were sharp, as if she were just as mad at the objects in her hand as she was at Benji. She slammed the kettle on the stove, turning up the flame for it to boil. “Tips are way better on weekends.”
“You couldn’t pay me enough.” When the kettle started to whistle, she poured water in her mug, dunking a tea bag in and out.
She pouted, lifting her mug to her lips. “How was your day? Were you able to start that chapter?”
I laughed lightly. “Yeah, eventually. Funny thing—I actually ran into Aiden at a Think near campus today.” Alexa’s eyes widened, but I stopped her before she could make a crude comment. “Nothing happened. He was fine, then out of nowhere started being a dick.”
“Maybe the raw sexual tension was getting to him.” Alexa wiggled her eyebrows. “Did you at least end up finishing your chapter?”
I ran my fingers softly along the counter. “I did.”
She hopped up onto the counter, still sipping her tea. “What’d he think about it?”
I bit back a smile. “You know, I think he really resonated with the main character.”
Alexa gave a soft ha . “Maybe this crazy scheme will work after all.”
On Monday, I ran into Aiden before the start of class. He was waiting outside the Writer’s House, leaning against the gate surrounding the entrance. When he saw me, he pushed off the gate and peered down at me. “Hi, Rosie.”
“You’re weirdly chipper.” I frowned, automatically suspicious that he’d called me Rosie.
I narrowed my eyes at him, hoping I could read on his face what game he was playing at. My jaw nearly dropped in shock when he stepped forward to hold the door open for me.
I hesitated. Had he been possessed? The Aiden I knew would never do this. In fact, he’d pretend to open the door for me, then shove past me to walk through it first. Something was up.
“Are you sick?” I asked, stepping past him. I got a whiff of his cologne, somehow warm and sharp. I pretended I didn’t love it.
“No.”
“You’re being nice. It’s weird.”
“I literally just said hi to you.”
“Exactly.”
“I’m guessing you didn’t read chapter two,” he said as we walked down the hall toward our classroom. He bent his head just a fraction as he spoke to me, his ear titled toward his shoulder.
“ Shit ,” I said, stopping in place. I looked up at him and grabbed his hand. “I’m sorry, I completely forgot! Don’t tell Ida.” He looked between my hands and his, raising his eyebrows. I dropped his hand like it was fire, wiping my own off on my coat. “I don’t want her to think we aren’t getting along.”
“No worries,” he said coolly. Obviously, worry seeped through me at his tone. Since when was Aiden calm ? “I won’t say anything if you won’t. After you.” He nodded me into the classroom.
We’d each have to read our respective chapters out loud. Ida had already explained to the class what she described as “our special project” in her weekly email to the class.
“Rosie, why don’t we start with you and Aiden today? I’m excited to see what you two have put together.”
My leg bounced rapidly against the table. My skin prickled, my fingers clenching into fists. Aiden caught my eye and glared at me.
“Stop it,” he mouthed, nodding at the table shaking slightly.
“Bite me,” I mouthed back.
He glanced at Ida before mouthing, “Stop worrying. It’ll be fine.”
“Rosie, you can begin whenever you’re ready.”
My eyes flickered across the table to Aiden’s, and he nodded once in encouragement. My chest warmed, for just a second. Maybe the other day at the caf é was a fluke. Maybe he’d been nervous and that’s why he left. Maybe the hatred had shifted to playfulness, and we were on our way to becoming friends. And maybe I wasn’t too opposed to that idea.
I began reading my chapter. Along the way, my shaky voice became stronger and, as I reread my words, I knew they were good. I glanced at Ida, hoping to gauge her reaction, but she was unreadable.
When I earned a few chuckles, I straightened, pride blooming. It was times like these, when my writing seemed indestructible, that I was so certain I’d made the right choice to move to New York. Of course this was what I was meant to do with my life.
Just as the dialogue began, I frowned. Something was off. Aiden had changed my character’s name to Max.
I had originally named her Meg, after Meg Ryan. I planned to find a way to pay homage to her later in the novel, too. I kept reading, annoyed that Aiden would do something so petty without asking.
Once I finished, Ida spoke up. “I think it’s best if we go straight into Aiden’s chapter, then discuss the two together.”
I glared at Aiden from across the table. I wasn’t stupid, either—he was getting back at me for naming the male lead after him. Clearly Max had been named after my last name, Maxwell. I had no doubt this next chapter would be as slanderous to me as mine was to him.
He cleared his throat, shifting in his seat. “ Max’s delusions of grandeur would always hold her back. Her naivety holds her back from witnessing reality.”
I cringed .
“ She trusts freely, laughs easily, even when it’s obvious she shouldn’t .”
He must’ve felt my eyes burning holes into his head because he glanced up between paragraphs. The side of his mouth quirked up and he barreled on.
“But she’s not fooling anyone with her act. I see right through it—and her.”
I closed my eyes, trying to control my breathing. He was just trying to get a rise out of me. Hadn’t I written, His stoic exterior is the perfect complement to his even colder heart ?
There was a difference in the way we read our chapters. I was on shaky ground, nervous with each word, building up confidence. But Aiden’s steady voice carried his every word.
Once he finished, Ida said to the class, “Well, who wants to start?”
Every hand shot up.
“I loved it.” Logan leaned forward in his seat, smiling. “It was by far my favorite submission this week, no offense everyone. If Aiden and Rosie don’t keep writing together, I think I’ll die .”
Jess kicked his chair and muttered, “Tone it down.”
“I liked the dynamic,” Tyler said on a more serious note as Logan quietly snickered. “I think the dual point of view is an interesting aspect, and it’ll be fun to see the romance play out with that.”
Each of our peers offered up comments, but when it was Aiden’s turn Ida held her hand up.
“I’m sure Aiden and Rosie have spoken at length about the chapters. I won’t make them repeat it for the class.” She smiled at the both of us, as if she hadn’t given us the dressing down of the century a week ago. “As for my comments, I’ll say this for now—I’m impressed with you two. I’m looking forward to the next chapters.”
For the first time since The Incident ?, I relaxed. Although I was relieved, I narrowed my eyes at Aiden trying to say, This conversation isn’t over.
When class ended, I filed out of the classroom silently. I could feel Aiden’s brooding, stalker presence behind me. I usually liked to view the world in a rose-colored light, but I was seeing red. I didn’t so much as look at him until we were outside on Fifth, in the New York autumn chill and outside of Ida’s sight.
I turned around and stabbed Aiden right in the chest with my finger.
“Whoa.” He held his hands up, taking a step back with each step I took forward until his back was against the traffic. New Yorkers paid no attention to us, used to ignoring every character on the street. Aiden was a thorn in my side that just wouldn’t go away.
My jaw was tight. “How could you change my character’s name to Max ?”
Amusement danced in his eyes. “I got attached to the name, what can I say?”
“What you wrote about me was way worse than what I wrote about you!” I exploded.
He stepped forward, looming over me. I looked up at him through my lashes, my chest rising and falling quickly in anger.
“Who said I was writing about you?” His face was so close to mine I could feel his breath fanning against my skin. I couldn’t stop my eyes from briefly flickering down to his lips. “I’m writing about Maxine. An optimist—”
“A romantic, you mean,” I said flatly.
“An optimist,” he corrected. “Who sees the best in everyone when they don’t deserve it. Who lives in a fantasy world. Who finds a way to make every inch of my fucking skin itch.” His voice quiet, but sharp. My mind betrayed me as, the closer he got, the more I wondered how his lips would feel on mine. I hated how he made my mind stray from anger to lust so quickly. I prayed he didn’t notice as a shiver ran up my spine at his soft, low voice. “Doesn’t sound like you, does it?”
No. It didn’t. I was an optimist, and I saw the best in everyone because they did deserve it. I didn’t live in a fantasy world, I just tried to make mine better. And I didn’t make every inch of his skin itch, I made it burn .
“Just like I wasn’t writing about you. I was writing about Hunter, who’s desperate to make everyone sad so he can feel just a little bit better about himself. Who goes home to an empty apartment and jerks himself off to fantasies from years ago to make himself fall asleep because it’s been too long since he’s had the real thing and it shows. Who’d rather see the worst in people than admit there’s some goodness left in the world.”
His gaze was intense. We dared the other to back down, but neither one of us would. His jaw ticked. “Perfect. So, we’re not writing about each other.”
“I guess not.”
“No reason to read in between the lines then, huh?”
“None at all,” I answered sweetly.
“Then I guess I’ll see you in the next chapter.”
He brushed past me and walked off, lost in the crowd. I stayed where I was, trying to calm my racing heart. As much as I hated him, I couldn’t turn off the part of my brain that turned everything into a scene from a romance novel. I hated how I wished he would’ve leaned forward just a bit more to plant his lips on my jaw. The intense look in his eyes was enough to make any girl need to close her eyes and collect herself. Next chapter, he was really going to know what I thought about him.
I couldn’t take the incessant ringing anymore. I promised myself I’d stay away from him today because I had to focus on my portion of our presentation. But it was impossible when he ignored every call that came through.
“Can you pick up your goddamn phone?” I snapped, turning in my chair. Hunter and I were cursed with desks in the same cubicle, our backs facing each other every day, only a gray half wall surrounding us.
He didn’t even look up. “No.”
I watched as he continued to write slowly and carefully in his black notebook, paying no mind to the blond hair falling into his face.
The phone was still ringing.
“Fine.” I pushed my rolling chair back and reached across him to pick up his phone. “You’ve reached Hunter Adrian’s office. He’s way too busy to take your call because he doesn’t find you as important as Max Daisy does. You can call her at extension 9412.”
I slammed the phone back into the receiver before rolling my chair back.
“Well done,” Hunter said. His blue button down was rolled up to his forearms. Whenever he had his shirt like that, I had to force my eyes not to stray. He carefully crossed them over his chest. “Sounds like you just stole one of my clients.”
“Well, if you’re not going to take their calls.” I turned toward my desk, trying to calm my beating heart.
“Aren’t you at least a little bit curious about who your new client is?” he pressed. I envisioned the purse of his lips, the dip in his brow—the face he always made when he was upset with me.
“I’m sure I’ll find out soon enough,” I said over my shoulder. I straightened my keyboard in front of me and pretended to type, my fingers bouncing lightly off the keys.
“Alright,” he said. I heard his chair roll and the scratch of his pencil. “When my mom calls, tell her I said hello.”
I paused. “Your mom?”
“Great job, Maxine. You’ve secured Durgis Agency’s newest client.”
I whipped around, my chair spinning a little too out of control. I had to use my foot to stop myself from going all the way around.
“Why aren’t you answering your mom’s calls?”
“Why aren’t you focusing on your own work?”
“When your mom calls me, I’m going to tell her how horrible you are, and she’ll make you move back home. You’ll be destined to live forever in her basement.”
“Tell her I’ll be late to dinner on Tuesday.” He didn’t even turn around.
— Excerpt from Untitled by Rosie Maxwell and Aiden Huntington