“What was that for?” I ask when he pulls away. “Not that I’m complaining.”
Every minute we spend together, I’m forced to remember how crazy life can be. When we kiss, it’s as if some greater force is whispering You’re welcome into my ear. Nate brought out the worst in me, but through that, I really think I discovered the best in me.
“I started your script this morning.”
My stomach plummets and I get a little light-headed. “You did?”
I’ve been sharing my scripts for years and it never gets easier. Every time I send a script to someone, it’s as if I jumped out of a plane butt naked, with a faulty parachute. The moment I press send there’s no turning back and I don’t know if I’m going to crash or soar. It’s exhilarating, terrifying, and the most exposed I ever feel.
“You’d always write those little short stories when we were kids and I remember thinking you were talented.” He leans in, his big body shielding me from the outside world. “But this? I don’t feel worthy enough to read it. It’s so good that I don’t even know how to put it into words.”
As a writer, you learn rather quickly that you can’t rely on praise for validation of your work. You have to learn to find that within yourself, because no matter what you create, someone out there will not like it. If you hang your worth on the opinions of others, you won’t survive this career.
But that doesn’t mean I still don’t love it when someone enjoys my work.
“Really? You liked it?” Or that I don’t fish for additional compliments every now and again.
“It’s amazing,” he says. “I laughed out loud the entire time I was reading. The characters felt so real, the idea is so clever. All of it. You’re a genius.”
“Stop it.” Tell me more, tell me more! “You’re just saying that.”
“Oh please, you know it’s amazing. I know you well enough to know you wouldn’t have sent it to me if you didn’t think it was.” He catches on to the game I’m playing rather quickly, but he still plays along. “Plus, how could you go wrong with that smart, charming character who looks great in khakis? You should really thank whoever inspired him.”
“You caught that, did you?” I thought about changing the character so he wasn’t so on the nose, but why fix what’s not broken?
“I did.” He touches his lips to mine, but it’s much too fast. “But really, it’s fantastic and I’m not just saying that. You’re brilliant and it’s only one of the many things I love and admire about you.”
I’m not sure I heard him correctly.
Did he say love?
I can’t tell if he meant to say it, and as we stare at each other, neither of us says anything. The distant chatter in the clubhouse is the only thing filling the space between us.
He opens his mouth to say something, but before he gets the chance, Ashleigh and Ruby swing open the door and march into the hallway.
“Showtime! Let’s go show the Reserve what Collins Carter is all about.” Ashleigh’s wearing her “Collins for President” T-shirt and has a matching tote bag stuffed with magnets, ChapStick, and fans to hand out. I’m not above bribery and neither is she. “And, Nate, good luck, but my money is all on this woman right here.”
“Can’t say I blame you,” Nate says to Ashleigh, but his eyes never leave mine. “She’s pretty hard not to cheer for.”
Warmth swirls through me like hot cocoa on the first day of winter. I lean toward him, hoping for one more kiss before I go.
“No!” Ruby grabs my face in her hands and pulls me nose to nose with her. “Don’t let him make you go all soft, not before you go onstage.”
“There’s no stage,” I correct her. “I think it’s just a long table.”
“Life is a stage, Collins! Come on!” she shouts in my face. “Get your head in the game.”
I wonder if this is how she treats her clients before she gets them on the stand. No wonder she has such a high success rate and has made so many people cry. Intense is an understatement.
But weirdly, her screaming in my face kind of works.
“Sorry, Adams,” I say once Ruby loosens her grip on my cheeks. “But you’re going down.”
And then maybe later, he can go down again . . .
* * *
? ? ?
I knew more people were planning on coming to this meeting than the last one I came to, but I vastly underestimated the community’s interest in me and Nate.
My hands fidget beneath the table as I look out into the crowd of at least a hundred people. There’s nary a cloud in the sky and the sun is shining bright, its brutal rays beating down on me as beads of sweat drip down my back. My palms are wet and even though I made fun of her earlier, I’ve never been so grateful for Ruby and her love of a laminator.
“Welcome to the Reserve at Horizon Creek’s Homeowners’ Association meeting,” Janice greets the crowd from in front of the table. She’s trying her best to sound warm and welcoming, but nothing can mask the disdain always lurking in her voice. “Today is a special meeting. As you all know, our former president, Harvey Bridgewerth, moved to Florida and resigned from his position as president of the HOA. Today we will hear from our two candidates and have a chance to ask them a few questions before we place our votes. First up is Collins Carter, followed by Nathanial Adams, then we will conclude with questions.”
She gestures for me to stand up and I go blank. I hate public speaking. Why did I decide to do this to myself? I’m unable to move. It’s like my butt has been superglued to the seat. I look around, trying to find Ruby and Ashleigh in the crowd. They’ll know how to get me out of this.
Before I can spot them, Nate’s hand latches on to mine.
“Hey.” He leans in close to my ear. “You got this. If you were able to stand up in the middle of that meeting and win the crowd over with no preparation whatsoever, they don’t stand a chance against you now. Plus, Ruby might murder both of us if this meeting gets canceled.”
He’s not wrong.
About any of it.
“Thank you.” I close my eyes and take a deep breath, and when I open them, I remember who the fuck I am.
I stand up on steady legs and round the table, staring back at curious eyes more interested in my relationship status with Nate than my stance on neighborhood policies. But I don’t care what they came for; all I know is what I’m going to give.
Ugh.
Moving home made me so corny.