Chapter 3 Delilah
Chapter three
Delilah
I’m about to smash my head into a wall. With a groan, I press the heels of my hands into my eyes, rubbing viciously. Maybe if I rub hard enough, it’ll get to my brain. Restart it or something. Because something needs to happen in order for me to get through this day. This week.
This project.
It’s been four days since I agreed to write the romance book.
And the first three days went well. I mean, most books don’t start out with a sex scene, so I was fine and dandy until …
now. I wrote the intro, the meet cute, set up the stakes and the conflict, all that good stuff.
I’m working from an outline the “author” whipped up, so it was easy enough for me to cover some good ground in the first few days.
But I knew today was coming. And here it is.
Ellie and Parker are supposed to have sex today. Right now. In this goddamn scene I’m trying to write. But no matter how hard I try, I cannot, for the life of me, get them to do it.
I’d even spent the last few evenings preparing by reading as many spicy romances as I could find at the local bookstore.
They lay scattered across my desk, full of sticky notes in prominent places.
I’ve got the mechanics down—both of the actual act and the structure of the scenes.
But for some stupid, unfathomable reason, I just can’t write it.
“Pickles,” I moan, glancing over to his sleepy form perched on the windowsill. He gives a muted chirp in response. “Help me,” I beg.
But Pickles knows less about sex than I do. He may be the only one.
I huff out an aggravated sigh, leaning back in my chair and staring at the ceiling. I’m about to psych myself up again and force another go when a knock at my front door startles me. Pickles springs from the windowsill and vanishes into my room.
Frowning, I stand, walking to the door and looking through the peephole. Curiosity spikes, and I open the door. “Hey,” I greet. “What do you want?”
My older brother, Harrison, stands on the threshold, shooting me one of his silly grins. “Hello, my sweet baby sister,” he sing-songs.
My eyes narrow, even as the corner of my mouth tugs up in a smirk. “What do you want?” I repeat.
“How does my lovely baby sister feel about following me to the mechanic and then driving me home after I drop off my truck?” He widens his eyes in that way he knows always makes me laugh.
I purse my lips to hide my smile. “It’s the middle of the workday.” I know his schedule can be wacky, so he’s most likely off work today, but that doesn’t change the fact that I should be working.
“You make your own schedule,” he retorts.
Normally, I’d push back a bit more, but honestly, getting out of the apartment sounds like the best thing in the world right now. Anything other than staring at that stupid, blank screen and that stupid, blinking cursor.
“Fine,” I agree, turning around to grab my phone and purse from the kitchen counter.
“Nice,” Harrison hisses. “I owe you one.”
“You do,” I agree, slipping on some tennis shoes before stepping outside and then locking my front door. “In fact,” I say, spinning around to face him. “You could finally bring over that old TV of yours you’ve been promising me.” I raise my eyebrows expectantly.
Harrison makes a slight grimace before giving in. “Fine. Seems like a fair trade.”
I grin triumphantly as we make our way down the stairs of my apartment complex to the parking lot below. “Luthor’s Auto,” Harrison calls over his shoulder as he heads to his truck.
I nod in acknowledgement before hopping into my SUV and following him out of the lot.
The trek to Luthor’s is across town but only about a fifteen-minute drive.
Cedar Ridge is small. I pull into one of the front parking spaces and turn off my car as I wait, pulling up my phone to scroll aimlessly while Harrison gets everything squared away inside.
After about ten minutes, I glance up, wondering what could be taking him so long.
I have half a mind to go in there and investigate when I get a glimpse of Harrison through the front windows.
He’s leaning over the reception desk, chatting amiably with a young woman—presumably whoever is in charge of scheduling.
Although by the looks of it, I think they’ve moved past auto talk.
I lean forward on the steering wheel, watching as the woman flips her perfectly curled hair over her shoulder and Harrison grins.
I shouldn’t be surprised. Not that Harrison is a player by any means, but he’s never exactly had a hard time with women.
It’s a wonder that, coming from the same household, one of us turned out so normal while the other turned out …
sexually stunted, I suppose I’d call it.
And I’ve never been able to figure it out.
It’s not like our parents raised us overly religious or anything or were super cautious about our dating lives.
In high school, I just had no interest in boys.
Same in college. I always figured it would change, and eventually it did, but by that time, I was in my early twenties and suddenly I felt so far behind.
It’s not that I’d ever been saving myself for anyone. It’s just that it … never happened.
I bite my lip, watching as Harrison hands his phone over the desk, and the woman beams, obviously putting her contact in.
How is it so goddamn effortless for everyone else but me?
And suddenly it hits me with a clarity I rarely feel. The answer to my problems. The only way forward. I’m twenty-six years old, and I’m done with being a virgin. Something has to change, and it needs to change now.
How, exactly … I will figure out later.
Harrison walks out the front doors of the auto shop with a smirk on his face, and he climbs into the passenger seat of my car.
“About time,” I tease, starting the engine.
“I think I’ve got a date this weekend,” he says in reply.
“Congratulations.” It’s both a bit of a tease and a bit sincere.
He hasn’t had a real girlfriend in over a year, and despite how hard he might try to hide it, he’s always best in a relationship.
He’s a girlfriend guy. And deep down, I know he really wants to start settling down.
He’s twenty-nine, after all. “Now, let’s go get my TV,” I say with a grin.