Chapter 12 Nothing to Lose
I write it.
I sit in front of the computer, pull up Word, and I don’t get up for four hours that pass like ten minutes. When my eyes finally slide to the clock, it’s midnight.
That was—fun.
I’m all mischievous smiles as I save the PDF of the first raunchy(-ish) scene I’ve ever written. Fiction Reed confronts Fiction Rikki about the review of his novel mid-sex, and she screams out I’m Renee, and he yells I’m Derek, right as they’re climaxing.
It’s both hot and hilarious, and I’m very happy with it.
Before I have time to second-guess any of the nonsense I just put on the page, I attach it to an email. My reasons for not using Google Docs are twofold.
1) Google Docs will show you when someone else is in the doc, and I cannot know when he is reading this, or I will die.
[Rikki Romona: Single woman past thirty, and professional Relationship Columnist for The Minute dies, with no prospects, of simultaneous combustion upon realizing three thousand miles away the guy she wrote a short piece of mild erotica about was reading said erotica. Still single. Used Hinge.]
And 2) I will go in within the hour and delete my chapter if I put it in something as accessible as a Google doc.
I don’t even let myself stare at it. I just press send.
—
Subject: RE: Been feeling inspired. Had some fun.
Rikki Romona August 4
See Attachment
—
I slam the laptop shut, plop on the couch, and flip on the TV, my stomach suddenly in knots.
“Holy shit,” I mumble.
What if he’s reading it?
I squeeze my eyes shut. I shouldn’t have sent it. I had them slam into so many walls. They scream I’m Renee and I’m Derek like, five times.
I stuff my face into a pillow. My opening line was I still know next to nothing about this man, but his synopsis has me hook, line, and sinker: I want to open him up and devour all the small print.
Help. Help. What have I done? Help.
I should have sent it to Jordyn! I should have had her screen it first! I sent him a first draft! I lunge toward my laptop—
My phone dings.