Chapter 7
Serenity
I need to talk
I stared at my phone screen and double-checked the time in the corner.
It was just past midnight, and while normal people were probably in bed by then, my creative mind found more energy when the sun went down.
I sat criss-crossed at my desk chair in my hooded bat onesie, editing the last chunk of my next novel with Sinners Do It Better playing softly through my computer speakers.
Setting my pen aside, I texted Dante back.
What’s up?
Instead of texting back, a video call popped up on my phone.
My eyes widened, and I panicked for a moment.
I had on zero make-up, and my silver curls were barely staying beneath my bat hood.
Not that it mattered. I wasn’t trying to impress Dante …
but I still didn’t want to look like a loser in front of a literal celebrity.
Shoving down my sporadic thoughts, I took a deep breath and answered. Dante’s handsome face filled the screen, and from the look of his bare, corded shoulders, it was obvious that he was shirtless. My mouth dried.
Clearing my throat, I tried to put on a casual front. “Hey. This is a surprise. Do you video call all of your fans at midnight, Dante?”
He smirked. “Only ones who look like you, Star.” He paused and seemed to study the screen. He raised a single dark brow. “Is that a bat face on your head?”
I grabbed the hood, which had a cute smiling cartoon bat face and ears. I held my chin higher but averted my eyes. “Maybe.”
He chuckled. “Capybaras. Bats. You really do love animals. Do you have even more critter stuff around there?”
“N-No,” I fibbed with a glance at my many plushies and animal desk ornaments.
“You’re such a bad liar,” Dante purred, the statement coming out far more sensual than it should’ve been. It sent a hot zip down my spine to settle at my lap, and I shifted nervously in my seat.
“What did you need?” I asked, trying to redirect the call to safer waters.
Dante suddenly straightened in the phone screen, and his face went serious. He held up a book for me to see, and my heart got lodged in my chest as he shook it. “I just finished this.”
I held my breath while anxious jitters broke out in my gut.
Trepidation had my head going dizzy, and I prepared myself to keep an even face, knowing Dante was about to tell me that my book was garbage.
Internal orders screamed that my tears couldn’t break free while Dante went into detail about how much he hated what I’d written. They had to wait until we were alone.
“Oh?” I managed to croak.
“Have you read it?”
I couldn’t get my voice to work, so I nodded.
“Great. Then let me say … What the fuck?”
Don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry!
“That was the best book I’ve read in such a long ass time!” he shouted.
I froze in my seat. What? I’d definitely misheard him.
“I mean, it was amazing!” he went on. “The world building, the characters, their struggles, the romance. I don’t have the next book on hand, so I need to talk to someone who will understand.”
My mind couldn’t process what I was hearing. I couldn’t seem to grasp that Dante not only read my book, but seemed to love it.
Sand filled my mouth as I finally managed to ask, “You liked it that much?”
He narrowed his dark eyes and looked at me skeptically. “If you’re about to tell me that you didn’t like this book, we can’t be friends anymore. I refuse to trust anyone who read it and didn’t love it.”
Laughing softly, I shook my head. “No, no. I liked that book. It’s just … not well-known, you know? I didn’t expect you to love it so much.”
“Well-known doesn’t mean better,” Dante grumbled. He raked a hand over his short black hair and scratched at the silver bar piercing the top of his ear. “Still, more people need to read this. I’m so pissed I don’t have the next book, and the library is closed tomorrow.”
My head no longer spun with racing fear but overwhelming glee. I leaned my cheek on my fist. “If you’re eager for book two, you’re really gonna be sour after finishing it. Big cliff hanger, and book three isn’t out, yet.”
His scruffy chin dropped, and his eyes widened. I might as well have told him his mother had died. “You’re shitting me.”
I bit my lip and toyed with the pen on my desk. “Nope. But I follow the author online. I think she said it comes out next month.”
I pursed my lips as my heart began to speed up once more.
My author profile online was faceless, so if he looked up SC Draven, he wouldn’t be able to tell she and I were one and the same.
I debated on whether or not to reveal my next statement.
If I did, he’d find out I was the author, and for some reason, that idea both thrilled and terrified me.
Shoving my unfounded worries down, I announced, “That author, SC Draven, is actually a local author. She’ll be doing a book signing for the third book release at the bookstore by the coffee shop in January.”
Dante’s handsome face lit up. “We should go! Let’s do it, Star! I want to meet a future bigshot author.”
Warmth unfurled inside of me until I worried I might burst. His love for my book and belief in me—even if he didn’t know it was me—was more than I’d ever experienced.
Not only that, but I’d never had someone in my life who wanted to do things with me or who shared the same interests.
Dante’s offer to attend this event together was new and exciting.
It was like I was finally making my very own friend.
And, of all people, that potential friend was Dante.
I agreed to attend the signing with him, though I chose to omit the fact that I’d be there as the very author he was hoping to see. I figured that could be a nice little surprise.
My current work in progress became forgotten as Dante and I fell into a deep discussion about book one in SC Draven’s dragon romance trilogy.
All of my worries evaporated and were replaced by bubbly lightness.
I gushed like a reader alongside Dante, telling him my favorite parts only to be told his.
Even when I worked at the library during high school, I never had the opportunity to freak out over books with people. The environment wasn’t for that, and my coworkers, though supportive of my writing, didn’t actually read my writing. They were more into thrillers, classics, or non-fiction.
With no end in sight for our conversation, I moved from my desk to flop back on my bed where it was more comfortable.
I continued my rambling about the spicy scene in the dragon’s cave and grabbed Gilbert out of habit to hold and toy with as I talked.
Dante’s eyes zeroed in on the fuzzy mass in my arms.
I glanced down at the stuffed animal and clutched him protectively. “It’s a capybara.”
Dante grinned, everything in his smile dazzling and perfect. “I know. I’m noticing a pattern. Are capybaras your favorite animal?”
“What gave it away?”
He chuckled before growing serious. His eyes narrowed like he was studying the creature in my arms. “But …”
I shot daggers through the phone and held Gilbert tighter. “If you say they’re ugly, I’m hanging up on you.”
Dante’s head fell back as he laughed at my defense of the animal, and I hated the sound.
I hated it, because it heated my blood. I hated it, because it sped up my heart in a way that it shouldn’t.
His smile and laughter was messing with my head and chest, and that made guilt follow close behind.
Was I doing something wrong with Dante? Was trying to create this friendship with him a betrayal to Bradley?
The thought made the sparks dancing through my limbs recede in a cold rush. I swallowed hard and averted my gaze while keeping my tone light with false cheer. “I do need to go, though. It’s late.”
When I dared a glance back at Dante, his deep eyes searched me through the screen. I wasn’t sure if he noticed the change in my demeanor. I doubted it. I’d become a master at hiding behind a mask of smiles and concealing whatever was happening inside of me.
“Okay,” he finally responded. “Sleep well, Star.”
“Sleep well, Capybara Hater.”
His deep chuckle was the last thing I heard before I hung up.
The sound lingered like a buzzing high in my chest, one that engulfed my veins in sweet heat.
I took a deep breath and looked at the photo of Bradley and I on my phone’s screensaver.
It had been taken at my twenty-first birthday party last year, and it showed his arm wrapped around my waist, a grin lighting up my face as he kissed my cheek.
My heart sat heavy as I recalled that night and how fake my smile was.
Because it had been my birthday, but we’d gone out to his favorite bar with his friends.
Because even though I’d worn my favorite purple minidress that showed off the tattoos I loved and the curves I was trying to love, Bradley didn’t give me a single compliment or even a pleased once over.
Instead, he’d asked me on the car ride over if I could wear more clothes next time to cover “what I’d done to my body. ”
I tapped my foot restlessly against my mattress and mindlessly rubbed at the tattoo on my left wrist. The ink there depicted an open book with sparkles and bursts of magic coming out of the tome. What you didn’t see was the scar hiding amid the tattoo.