CHAPTER 19
Three days later.
”What did he say?” Micaela asks anxiously. Javier had just called Victoria to demand the chapters of the story they were supposed to have written by now.
Ever since that night, the seamless organization and rhythm they had enjoyed had dissolved into tension and too many awkward silences. They”ve barely written two chapters, stuck with a full plot in mind but lacking the concentration to write more than fifty words at a time. Each night used to end with them sending quality material to their editor, keeping him and the publishing house satisfied. But now, Javier has been left waiting for three days without any updates.
”He asked if something”s wrong. We”ve just vanished without any explanation and he”s worried,” Victoria replies, her voice hollow.
”And what did you tell him? We”re too far along for him to be upset,” Micaela presses, her brow furrowing as she mentally calculates how much they”ve already written.
”No one said he”s upset,” Victoria snaps back, irritation coloring her tone. ”He knows about the kind of relationship you and I have and fears we might be arguing again.”
”Did you tell him we slept together?” Micaela blurts out.
Victoria”s phone slips from her grasp at the raw bluntness of Micaela”s words. Her mind races uncontrollably, replaying how Micaela had pleaded with her that night. She picks up the device from the floor and tries to regain her composure.
”No, I told him the changing weather gave us both a mild cold, and we”re taking it slow since we have weeks yet to push forward,” Victoria explains, pacing aimlessly around the room. She avoids Micaela”s gaze deliberately, fearful that her eyes might betray the thrill that tingles through her, hard to suppress.
”How about we take a walk, clear our heads?” Micaela suggests, her voice laced with hope. She”s been trying for three days to mend things with Victoria.
”I don”t feel like it,” Victoria replies tersely.
”What if I whip up some snacks? You loved the blueberry pancakes last time,” Micaela persists, her tone warm.
”No. I”m going to lie down for a bit; my head is pounding,” the writer from Toledo responds, spinning on her heel and vanishing from the living room before Micaela can utter another word.
Micaela remains motionless on the sofa, a tumult of emotions roiling within her, too tangled to untie. She”s tried everything, yet nothing seems to work. Victoria refuses to engage in any meaningful conversation. Suddenly, a surge of frustration wells up to her chest, and she feels unfairly treated. It was Victoria who had initiated their passionate encounter nights ago, a passion that lasted for hours. Now, her coldness feels harsh and unkind. She won’t even taste the daily culinary delights Micaela prepares, using excuses like not being hungry, only for Micaela to find out she’s snacked on a sandwich or made herself a hot chocolate later.
Feeling overwhelmed, the blockage in Micaela”s creativity returns with a vengeance, and the person who might help her is barely speaking to her. Deciding she needs to vent and seek advice, Micaela seizes the opportunity of Victoria’s retreat to her room. She slips out to the patio, walking to its furthest corner where she”s sure she won”t be overheard. She quickly unlocks her phone and taps into the messaging app to call up her group of friends, the Lelas.
”Hey, Ela,” Ignacia is the first to answer.
”What’s up, Lelas?” Valeria appears on the screen next.
”Guys, I”m a mess,” Micaela blurts out, her face contorted with distress.
”Did something happen?” Ignacia asks, her voice filled with concern.
”I don”t even know where to begin,” Micaela laments, her voice thick with frustration.
”Well, spill it already, gorgeous, because we can”t strategize our next murder without the details,” Valeria teases, her voice tinged with mock severity.
Micaela”s heart races as she recounts the stormy past weeks to her two confidants. She tells them about Victoria”s jealous fits, their daily bickering, the initial spark that made them click as colleagues, and how it spiraled into a reckless tumble between the sheets. She paints a vivid picture of how Victoria has since shut down, barricading herself against even the simplest conversation, refusing shared meals, or co-writing a single chapter of their story. Micaela ends with her latest torment: Javier”s pressing demands and her own crippling writer”s block.
”I”m seriously screwed,” Micaela confesses, her voice thick with distress.
”What the hell is her problem?” Valeria blurts out, clearly irritated. ”She kisses you, sleeps with you, and then gives you the cold shoulder? That”s just low.”
”Try talking to her again, Ela. I know it”s tough, but you both need to act like professionals. This isn”t high school. And she”s a mother, for goodness” sake,” Ignacia advises, her tone rational yet sympathetic.
”That”s what I”ve been trying to do, Ignacia. But she”s either so ashamed of what happened, or so regretful she can”t even look me in the eye,” Micaela laments, her frustration palpable.
”Well, you just need to sleep with her again. That woman isn”t regretful at all. She wants you back in bed but just doesn”t know how to say it,” Valeria declares with conviction, sure she”s hit on the right solution.
”Don”t be crass,” Ignacia chides her. ”I think you should just get back to how things were when you first started getting along. Focus on your work and wrap this up. The sooner you finish, the sooner you can both head home.”
Micaela”s breath catches at the thought of that solution. If she”s honest, it”s probably the best thing they could do as writers. But the thought of just walking away from Victoria after experiencing such an intense connection — a first in her life — sends a wave of agonizing anxiety through her.
Her head aches as the conversation with her friends stretches on for a few more minutes. Finally, she signs off, claiming she needs to think over what to do before she talks to Victoria again. The truth is, she”s at a loss. Micaela has never been in this position before; she”s not used to having to plead with anyone. Women usually fall effortlessly for her charms. Begging Victoria to engage isn”t in her plans, but with a resolute breath, she resolves that they need to handle this with professionalism. They have a commitment, and whether they like it or not, they must fulfill it together.
Confident, Micaela strides into the house and up the stairs. If Victoria isn”t asleep, she”ll seize the moment to settle things once and for all. She gently opens the bedroom door, but all her earlier confidence vanishes when she sees Victoria, her smile the most stunning Micaela has ever witnessed. Victoria sits propped against the wall on the bed, laughter dancing in her eyes as she scrolls through her phone. The sight halts Micaela at the threshold, her hand frozen on the doorknob.
”What”s up?” Victoria asks, her voice edged with a deliberate coldness. She can”t afford to waver with Micaela, fully aware of the consequences if she does.
”Can we stop the nonsense already?” Micaela finds her voice after a tense pause. ”We need to do our job, Victoria. One night together isn”t worth jeopardizing our careers over—and I,” she points to herself, ”am not about to watch mine crumble to dust.”
”And what do you suggest?” Victoria”s voice is a mix of frustration and challenge, making Micaela”s gaze harden. It seems to Victoria that sleeping with her and then facing her daily is the worst punishment she”s endured. But the reality is far from it; they”ve continued to share a bed, and Victoria spends sleepless nights fighting the urge to touch her.
”We write. If it means brainstorming anew, tweaking the plot, or each of us hammering away on our own laptops, so be it. Yes, we slept together, but that”s the past. Now we move forward and meet our deadlines,” Micaela declares, her voice both angry and nervous. She hates feeling this electric tension with Victoria and being unable to channel it.
”Fine,” Victoria replies simply, looking back down at her phone.
”And a little civility wouldn”t hurt,” Micaela adds sharply, turning to leave the room.
Victoria watches her go, her eyes lingering on Micaela”s retreating figure. She feels a pang of desire, her gaze fixed on the curves she had caressed just nights before. With a distressed sigh, she decides to take a shower, her damp underwear a testament to the challenge of continuing to share a room with the tantalizing writer.