Chapter 25
?
The future is mine to write.
August
Me: I am sad and lonely.
Ali: Likewise. This season’s animes are mid at best. But you know what’s always top-tier?
Ali: Work.
Ali: Get to it.
My nose scrunches, because how dare he say that to me two days after abandoning me to suffer all by myself in my own house, alone?
Sighing, I ignore work and get a few hundred more words down in my vampire story.
It’s moving along at such a swift pace, I’m worried I’ll be done well before Alister’s plans come to fruition. And then what will I do?
Work?
I don’t think so.
Languish?
Probably.
Actually, in all seriousness, if I’m heading toward a historical romance, I should practice my languishing.
Knowing how to languish is important for historical female leads.
Often, the menfolk head off to war at some point in the book, and there are upwards of fifty pages of pining and suffering left between the moment they leave and the end.
This is good.
This is research.
This is…
I sigh.
Hard.
After a month and a half with someone always around, now it’s dreadfully apparent how empty my house is.
I got used to having Alister here in a good way.
I got used to the way my heart would trip when I caught sight of him out of the corner of my eye.
I got used to the underlying tension between us.
I got used to anticipating when he might flip the casual narrative on its head.
Every day was another chapter in a story I was loving to write.
And now?
Now, I’m stuck in those bone-dead boring fifty pages where I don’t really care at all what’s happening and just want the stupid male lead to get his stupid rump back home to the poor, sad female lead who misses him.
Dumb, dumb, dumb.
I rage type.
Stupid, stupid, stupid.
I jut my lip and puff as another chapter comes to a close in my book. I’m steadily heading toward the climax now. Probably only two more chapters and an epilogue, where they’ll almost kiss and I shall keep my promise to December by writing Fin in lieu of any description.
Surely that shall morale me?
Surely, surely…
While I’m not at all contemplating how evil I can be, I hear my front door open.
My heart leaps.
I scoot my chair out and rush to my hall, peering past my living room to find—
“A burglar!” I declare when December’s rump bops my front door closed behind her. “Please, take my money! Take my coffin! But don’t take my books! Anything but my books!”
December’s giggle dances into the air. “Silly. I’m not a burglar, it’s not a coffin, and I would never wrench a manuscript out of your hands before its time.” Her pretty eyelashes bat. “Unless?”
“It’s not ready yet. I am almost done, though.”
“Aw. I continue to suffer then.”
My attention lowers, to her arms, which appear to be…
full of dark roses scattered with sunflowers.
Covering my mouth with my hands, I whisper, “Oh, December. You should have told me sooner you were in love with me. How painful it must have been to watch Dominic woo me this past month. I choose you. Of course I choose you.”
Horrified, my dearest and oldest friend beholds me, aghast. “I cannot believe you’d make this positively lovely story into a love triangle.”
Losing my theatrics, I cross my arms, turn my face away, and cock my hip against the wall. “I can’t believe you’re conspiring with that man. He’s trying to get me all wedded up, you know?”
A happy little sigh escapes her. “I know.” Trotting across my living room, she fills my arms with the roses. “It’s so romantic. I can’t believe he’s really going to marry you against your will like this. I, for one, am absolutely obsessed.”
“Marry me against my will?” I ask.
December holds up a gilded card. Golden ink dresses the front with My Beloved Author.
I gulp. “What’s that?”
“Oh this? Sappy poetry, probably. But I’m hoping it’s a threat.”
Shifting the bouquet, I retrieve the card and fumble through getting it open amid all the blossoms pouring out of my arms. Meanwhile, December heads into my kitchen and begins searching for, I suspect, a vase. Discovering I do not own one, she settles on filling a pot with water while I read:
Hello Darling,
Miss me yet?
I’m certain you’re overcome by my absence, but worry not, love.
It won’t be long now.
Let these flowers be a reminder of us and all we shall be—together.
May you ache for me every time your gaze catches sight of them.
My heart squeezes.
“Playing dirty, are you?” I whisper.
December hums, “What?” and snatches my bouquet to settle the stems in a place where only pasta should ever be.
Pointing the corner of the card at her chest, I declare, “What has he told you?”
Her hands fly into the air as she squeaks, “No, please! I’m just the messenger.”
“A likely story! Tell me what he’s scheming. You said he plans to marry me against my will. How?”
December sways, hand to her forehead. “He said you wouldn’t hurt me. He promised.”
I scoff. “As if you can trust that knave. Vampires only care about themselves.”
“Yes. Well…” December glances at me, one mischievous eyelid cracked. “They only care about themselves…and their thralls.”
I gasp. “That’s black magic! You wouldn’t.”
December cuts her gaze elsewhere. “Wouldn’t what?”
“You wouldn’t tell him details about the story. You wouldn’t dare.”
Wicked, she lets a positively villainous smile curl her lips, putting evil dimples on full display. “I might dare. Just a little bit. Who are you to say what I would or would not do?”
“The author.”
“Oh noo. I’m shaking in my custom baby-seal leather boots.” Her eyes spark.
I shudder. “You monster.”
Giggling, she heaves my pot of roses and sunflowers up out of the sink and sets it on my table, in full view. Altogether, the arrangement is…us. The brilliant sunflowers mingle in the soft, full darkness of the roses. It’s alluring. It’s dangerous.
No one has ever given me flowers before.
There’s a charm to them, I suppose, but that doesn’t make the act any less cliche.
December says, “Do you think I could dry and scrapbook some of them?”
Distracted, I murmur, “Does he really think I’ll succumb to something so generic?”
My sweet friend smiles gently. “I think you don’t have a clue what’s about to hit you.”
Yikes. “What are my chances of survival, doc?”
“Poor.”
Great.
Hugging myself, I face her. “He had the sense to make you my maid of honor, right? If this is actually happening, I would like you to be my maid of honor.”
December taps a finger to her lips. “Maid of honor? No. No, I don’t think this wedding is going to have anything like that.” She locks her hands behind her back and tilts her head. “Now primary accomplice? That’s a job I gladly accepted.”
Oh dear.
She asks, “How close are you to being done with the vampire story?”
“Another day or two, I think. If that.” My brow furrows. “Why?”
“Dominic said it looked like you were on the verge of conflict last time you were together. He suspected that meant you were ready to give him a new role.”
Such a comment makes my stomach flip. “How…”
“He’s fairly intuitive. It’s a bit chilling, to be honest. I think he’d appreciate it if you’d reserve some affection for what he called ‘plain old him’ before handing him his next cast sheet.”
My lips part. “Is he…going to be plain old him for the wedding?”
December’s cheeks dimple. “Only kind of. But, my goodness, August. You’re so lucky.”
?
What is luck, really?
Sighing, like a forlorn little miss, I tilt a black rose I hacked off a stem in my palm and ponder what all might befall me before the week is up.
According to December, I don’t stand a chance. I shall be married, regardless of my wishes.
Which could either be what she genuinely believes—or another part of the scheme that’s brewing.
After all, it’s easy enough to have Ali send my dear, frightening friend to me with orders to mess with my brain and convince me that a real wedding is happening, whether I like it or not. December would have no qualms about it. Which is part of why I love her so dearly.
Breath leaves me, and I find myself biting my smile as I bury my nose in the flower.
He’s just so…
Everything my stupid heart and brain want.
Ali: You up?
Blinking at the message tone and the words that accompany it, I set the rose I got this afternoon down and scoot my laptop back up on my knees, getting comfy in my bed before I reply.
Me: Always. Why would I ever sleep?
Ali: No clue. Look. I found something that doesn’t suck.
He sends me a link to an anime.
And that’s it. That’s all. I click it. I begin watching. And we talk through every episode while the night slips by. With every joke he makes and every laugh I can’t hold back, I find myself settling into the peace of the possibility of having this forever.
Joy might be boring.
But I don’t know that I’m willing to trade these happy moments in for anything.
Talking to him online isn’t quite the same as having him right here, with me, in a pillow of plush in the backyard or snuggled up together on my couch, but the connection is similar. The bond. The yearning.
Could I stomach a relationship that feels this safe forever?
Or, perhaps more importantly, could I bear to go even another week without hearing his laughter beside me?
I don’t know.
I don’t think so.
Probably not.
Joy might be boring for a brain like mine…but also maybe, just maybe, a brain like mine is more than capable of creating its own excitement in the face of a mundane reality. After all, isn’t that what I’ve already been doing my entire life?
Adding another character to my daily chapters is sure to keep things even livelier—especially if we’re co-writing this story…together.