Chapter 6
CHAPTER SIX
“Just so you know,” Aiden said as soon as I answered the phone, “I’d take my mother’s calls.”
“Sure, sure.” I balanced my phone between my shoulder and ear as I bent over my knee, carefully dragging the brush across my toenails, making them bright red. We’d graduated from texting to phone calls over the past couple of months of working on the book together. It had started when he tried to get Maxine fired from her job and enter a period of depression, and I couldn’t help but call him on the phone and yell at him. “Just like you look up from that notebook when I say something to you.”
It annoyed me all last semester how he refused to make eye contact with me whenever I spoke. I’d say anything, and he’d start writing in his stupid notebook; when I gave critiques, he’d do the same.
Aiden cursed under his breath. There was a low, steady stream of noise behind him. “Where are you?” I asked, sitting up. Then I heard the music and could practically feel the bass through the phone. After a few more curses from Aiden, the sound started to fade. “Are you at a party? Were you reading my chapter at a party?”
“No, of course not,” he said sharply. He must’ve been able to tell from my silence that I didn’t believe him. He sighed, relenting. “It’s my cousin’s middle school dance.”
I spluttered a laugh. “Please tell me everything.”
I could basically see him dragging his hand down the side of his face as he groaned. It was strange how well I knew Aiden, even though I hated him. I’d spent so long sitting across from him I could picture him so clearly now. “They were short one chaperone, and she said if they didn’t get another they’d have to cancel.”
“Aww. And you volunteered? That’s so—”
“Please don’t say romantic.”
“Romantic,” I sighed. I fell back onto my bed, the springs creaking. “Who knew Aiden Huntington was such a romantic?”
“Don’t say that.” I bet he was scowling. “My hands were tied.”
“So, like a valiant romance hero, you stepped forward and defended your cousin’s honor and saved her middle school dance.”
“Or I sacrificed a few hours of my life to stand with a bunch of sweaty preteens in a gym listening to Taylor Swift.”
“Hey, take out the preteens and gym, and that’s my kind of night.”
A laugh, that shouldn’t really count as a laugh but instead was a harsh exhale, surprised me. Since when did Aiden Huntington laugh? It made him seem so human , and I couldn’t stop myself from wanting to know more about him. I sat up to inspect the polish on my toes, testing to see if they were dry. “Do you really take your mom’s calls?” I asked casually.
“I did,” he said softly. He cleared his throat and said, “Why are you working on our pages on Thanksgiving weekend?”
My throat tightened as unexpected tears sprung in my eyes. Thanksgiving had been this past Thursday, and I hadn’t been able to swing a flight. I was still holding out hope for Christmas, though.
“Do you have siblings?” I blurted out, ignoring his question. Despite working together on our manuscript for nearly two months, I felt like I didn’t know anything about him.
“Rosalinda,” he warned. I knew what he was thinking. He didn’t want to give me ammo for my next chapter.
“I’m not trying to use it against you. I just don’t know anything about you,” I confessed. I picked at a stray string in my white comforter. “Isn’t that weird? I hate you, but I don’t know anything about your life.”
“Hate, huh?”
“Dislike,” I conceded. “I didn’t know you saved middle school dances. You’ve been promoted from hate to dislike, congratulations.”
He laughed fully this time and warmth blossomed in my chest. The last thing I ever expected was for Aiden’s laugh to make me feel like the drive home after a long day. I hated the part of me that wanted to see the smile paired with this laugh. Did he tip his head back? Shake his head?
“No siblings,” he said softly. “Just me. What about you?”
“I’ve got a sister,” I said. “A year and a half younger than me.” I was tempted to tell him how homesick I was. How she was my best friend in the entire world, and I had felt so lost these past two years without her.
“What made—” He was cut off by sounds of children’s laughter. “Hey! Is that a vape? Get over here.” His authoritative tone was enough to scare me over the phone. “I’ve got to go, Rosalinda. I’ll write the next chapter soon.”
He hung up without another word, and I ignored the small part of me that wanted to call him again just to hear his laugh.
I’d been avoiding Ida’s office hours ever since The Incident ?, worried I had forever ruined my relationship with her.
I stood in front of her office door, trying to gain the courage to go in. Usually, I entered without preamble and got right to it, but I was so nervous now that I did something I hadn’t ever done before: I knocked on her door.
After her soft “Come in,” I opened the door and stepped into her office. She looked up from her papers, eyebrows raised.
“Rosie, I’m surprised to see you. You haven’t stopped by in a long time.”
I hesitantly took a seat in the chair opposite her desk, running my hands against my skirt to wipe the sweat off.
“I know. I just … I want to say I’m sorry for what happened. With Aiden. I swear we’re being nice to each other now.”
“Rosie,” she said softly. “I’m not mad at you. I just have to set boundaries within the workshop so you two don’t set a precedent for what’s acceptable. But you and I are fine, okay?”
I nodded. “Thank you. Because I did have a lot of questions for you.”
She smiled. “I’d expect nothing less. Do you have the chapter you’re going to workshop for next class? Let me see what we’re working with.”
I handed over the folded papers and she skimmed through them quickly.
“I know it’s not my best work,” I said in a rush. Writing had been so much easier when I was just a little girl sitting on my bedroom floor, without the pressure of Ida and Aiden as my primary audiences, and I wanted to find that feeling again. “I feel like I don’t know Aiden well enough. I’ll set a scene up for what I want it to be, but then Aiden will take it in a different direction.”
She hummed. “You two lack chemistry.”
“That’s not true,” I said quickly.
She raised a brow. “So, you two do have chemistry?”
A blush spread across my cheeks. I don’t know why I felt weirdly protective over the dynamic Aiden and I had. It wasn’t a typical one, but now that we’d spent some time working on the project, I surprisingly felt like we worked well together. Even if it was in opposite ways. Half the time when he insulted me, I wanted to write it down because it was such a good insult.
“I don’t know.” I shrugged. “I don’t think it’s that bad.”
“What you two need is to communicate better. Think about how successful Christina Lauren is. Their voices blend so well because they’re so in sync with each other.”
“They write the same genre.”
Ida shrugged. “I didn’t say it would be easy.”
I sighed, knowing she was right. If Aiden and I were able to miraculously communicate with no problem, we’d have to be semivulnerable in front of each other. I wasn’t ready for that.
“Let’s see what the workshop thinks tomorrow. I’m really impressed with what I’ve seen so far from you two. I think it’s been your best writing yet.”
“I don’t know about that.” I laughed. “Sometimes when I read it back, it doesn’t even feel like my voice.”
“Sure.” She bowed her head, conceding. “But it might just be a new side of your voice you hadn’t discovered yet. And, honestly, I really like it. But let’s see what we can do with this chapter.”
We continued revising my latest chapter and going over her recent notes for me. There were some writers who had no ability to teach, instead opting to preach from their pedestal. But Ida wasn’t like that. She took the time to sit with me and go through line-by-line edits and guided our plot as much as she could. I always left her office with a renewed sense of purpose in the program.
As I packed up, I said, “I meant to ask you about this earlier. Have you heard of the Frost Fellowship? I was thinking of applying for it.”
I’d done the math, and if I won, I’d be able to do a full-time schedule to finish my MFA sooner and afford to go home more than once in a blue moon. Besides, being published in The Frost would be an incredible honor that’d help me build up my writer credits.
Ida’s eyes brightened. “You absolutely should! It’s a really great opportunity.”
“Obviously I want to, but …” I hesitated.
“But you’re afraid of what’ll happen if you submit a romance,” she finished.
“The only thing I know how to write is romance. But I know what other people think of that. I don’t want it to hurt my chances.”
She sat forward at her desk, leveling her gaze with mine. “I’m going to be honest—I don’t know if they’ll be kind to a romance piece. I don’t know if that’ll be a deciding factor or not. But you’ll regret not having taken this chance. You know I think you’re a great writer,” she said softly. “I say submit romance and fuck ’em if they can’t appreciate it.”
It was so easy to say fuck the man! I won’t submit any sad, serious literature. I’ll submit my witty romance chapter! But rejection was disheartening. It was immortalized in words echoing in my head and doubt in my hands over a keyboard.
“Would you be able to look over my piece before I submit it?” I asked finally.
Ida smiled. “I’d love nothing more.”
“That’s it for today. Keep up the good work, everyone.” Ivy stacked her papers against the conference room table and stood.
I remained in my seat across from Maxine. Despite sitting next to each other at our desks daily, we always picked the seats across from each other in the conference room. Perhaps because it was another way to hurl glares or get under the other’s skin.
She didn’t leave either. She pinned me down with her light blue eyes as the room emptied out. I had become addicted to that look. It was my biggest vice—figuring out what words I could say to make her mad, to make her focus only on me, to get the look.
She bounced her leg rapidly, causing the table to shake. “Would you quit that?” I snapped.
She narrowed her eyes, her leg speeding up.
“You’re going to bruise.”
“So, I’ll bruise,” she said. Her velvet voice surrounded me in the conference room; it was nearly suffocating. She commanded attention from everyone she met, even if she didn’t know it. She was often larger than life, fearless.
It was annoying. And admirable.
“How’s your portion of the presentation coming?” I asked casually.
She lifted a shoulder, acting like my words were of no consequence to her. “Just as you would expect. I heard yours was all cold hard facts.” She frowned, as if the idea brought a bad taste to her mouth.
“Oh really? Where’d you hear that?”
“You know how much the break room likes to gossip.” A grin spread across her face. Hope flickered in my chest at the thought that she’d asked about me. “I’m sure everyone will like my portion better. Mine appeals to the emotions a bit more. It’s happier.”
“Unrealistic,” I corrected.
“To you, there’s no difference.”
I resisted the urge to smile. I was always doing that around her, terrified of what would happen if I let someone in again. I tapped my fingers on the glass conference table, leaving smudges, deciding it was better to push her away.
“It’s time to wake up, Maxine. You’re in the real world now with real stakes, one of them being your career. Don’t come crying to me when you’re knocked on your ass by reality. I won’t help you up.”
— Excerpt from Untitled by Rosie Maxwell and Aiden Huntington