Total pages in book: 244
Estimated words: 236705 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1184(@200wpm)___ 947(@250wpm)___ 789(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 236705 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1184(@200wpm)___ 947(@250wpm)___ 789(@300wpm)
Hazel shrugs as if to say, stranger things have happened. “Could she?”
If Amy knows the truth, would she care? Probably not. She’s not all up in her writers’ business.
Unless . . . readers would care.
Shit.
I slam my computer closed, stuff it into my messenger bag along with the creature cup, and point to the door. “We have to meet Jason and Luke for pinball. Let’s go,” I say. My Hawks buddy is in town visiting Nolan, and Luke lives here.
“Sure. But we’re not late. Why are we leaving in such a rush?”
Once we’re out on the street, I drape an arm around Hazel and, after a moment’s debate, confess my new fear. “What if my readers find out I faked a romance? What the hell will happen?”
I’ve considered this before. But I didn’t have the bandwidth to analyze it fully. Maybe because I was staring down the barrel of a gun in the form of a deadline. Now that I’m writing again, I have to consider shit like honesty and trust. Amy knowing about Operation Fake Romance feels like my worlds colliding, and I’d rather Planet Editor and Planet Agent stay in their own orbits. But I might not have that luxury anymore. I walk along Eighth Avenue, glance behind me, then peer in front of me as if a celebrity blogger might be nearby, angling to ferret me out.
“TJ,” she says, gentle but firm. “You’re freaking out.”
“I know!”
“I mean, you’re freaking out over a coffee cup. I was only messing around. I’m sorry I worried you. I was just playing it out, like we do with book scenes.”
Yes, we help each other invent ridiculous scenarios. I helped Hazel figure out how to get her characters in Sweet Spot into the New York Public Library after-hours for a midnight scavenger hunt. She helped me devise a problem with a zipper so the hero and heroine would be caught half-dressed backstage at an awards ceremony in The Size Principle.
But that’s fiction. This is my life.
“I know, but I’m screwed if readers find out.” I drag a hand through my hair, worry gripping every molecule.
“Breathe,” she says reassuringly. “One, how would they? Two, is it fake?”
The first question I can handle. “I don’t know how. The same way anyone finds out anything.” The second question, though, twists me up. I’ve told Hazel the basics, but confessing out loud, here on the street, knots my stomach. “No, it’s not fake, but it’s also not real.”
“TJ, you told me about Pomander Walk. That sounds pretty real. You told me about the night at his place after the show. That was real.”
Those intimate moments in the bedroom felt real too. So did our date. But Jude and I have a terrible track record. “What if it all goes to hell?”
“Your fake romance?”
“Or the real one.” That may be the first time I’ve said that fear aloud. I’m terrified of losing him again.
Something is happening between Jude and me. We are real, and I don’t want to make the same mistakes the second time around. Or the third time. I also don’t want to keep everything a secret.
“Last time,” I say as we near the pinball arcade, “I barely told anyone anything. And look what happened. I was juggling secrets left and right, and it all came crashing down.”
“So maybe this time, don’t keep it all a secret,” Hazel says as if it’s that simple.
I need simple right now. When we get to the arcade, I’m relieved I can’t talk about my strange romance anymore. I put aside my worries as we go in and find Jason at The Big Lebowski pinball machine, with Luke, the backup quarterback from the New York Leopards, attacking the Guns N’ Roses one.
Their games end quickly because they both suck at pinball. Jason spins around, flashes me a grin. “If it isn’t the luckiest guy in all of New York,” he calls out.
I want to rib him back, but that would feel like another half-truth. Jason’s a good buddy of mine, and he doesn’t know the real story about Jude.
I am such a secret keeper that I belong in a secret society—the loveless hermit who protects everyone’s truths and never shares his heart. Bleurgh. That sounds miserable to me. This is why I don’t write high fantasy.
“How’s it going?” I ask the two football players, giving quick bro hugs as Hazel says hello too.
Golden boy Luke nudges Jason and answers my question. “Well, Jason just ran into his ex, so that was super awkward.”
“Like a ten on the awkward scale,” Jason adds, frowning.
“What happened?” Hazel asks. She’s a damn good mama hen to our friends.
Jason catches her up on the run-in with the guy who gave him an ultimatum a year ago and broke his heart in the process. Funny how I know all about his past heartbreaks, but I’ve told him nothing about mine.