Plot Twist

  “What’s wrong?” she asked. Her grip on his shoulder tightened.

“Absolutely nothing.” Except for the fact that he hadn’t expected a make-out session, and he wasn’t ready for anything more than that either. Even if his body pleaded otherwise. “It’s just been kind of a crazy day.”

Sophie hesitated but eventually nodded. They untangled themselves, and he stood from the bed. “I’ll get us water.” He didn’t look back at her as he walked toward the bathroom. He knew he should feel ashamed for what they’d done. If Poppy found out, she’d be so hurt. But the feel of Sophie against him hadn’t felt wrong at all. It felt like he was waking up to something he hadn’t known was missing, and that realization scared him more than anything. Because he hadn’t needed or wanted anything in so long, but he wanted more of Sophie.

13

SOPHIE

Sophie could not sleep. Obviously she couldn’t just drift off, because not only was Dash gently snoring next to her but whenever she closed her eyes the only thing she saw was him.

Dash weaving his fingers through her hair.

Dash’s charmed expression as she straddled his lap.

Dash cutting their make-out session short with the weird excuse of needing water.

Gah. She shouldn’t obsess over what was going through Dash’s head, but overthinking was also something she did extremely well.

And it wasn’t just Dash who was playing on a loop. Whenever she took a mental break from them, her mind wandered to her unfinished conversation with Ned. Maybe it was the lack of sleep, but a little worm of dread had wriggled into her thoughts. Was she the bad person in their relationship? Had she completely ruined their friendship all those years ago?

As soon as soft morning light trickled in through the curtains, Sophie quietly grabbed her laptop bag and let herself out of the guesthouse. If she was going to have insomnia, she might as well try to get some writing done. The air was still cool as the sun began to crest the mountains, and despite the lack of sleep Sophie felt wired. There was a long, wooden table in the shared courtyard, and she sat down at it.

She opened the draft of The Love Drought that was just waiting for her final scenes to be written. She had twenty thousand words to go, and then she’d be done. Her meteorologist and storm-chaser leads had experienced their all-is-lost moment, and now she just needed to bring them back together so they could find their happily-ever-after. Typing those words out should’ve felt like seeing the finish line after running the bulk of a marathon—the end in sight. But as Sophie stared at the last page she’d written, a kind of numbness overtook her. Nothing about her characters or their relationship in this book felt natural or earned, just forced. And she found that while her fingers were poised over the keyboard, ready to put the words to paper, she couldn’t just fake their love story.

“Hey.” Ned’s voice was soft. She turned to see him coming out of his house with two mugs of coffee. “Thought you could use a little fuel.”

He handed her a mug, and she was grateful for the coffee and the excuse to not stare at her current work in progress. Her palms warmed as she sipped. “Thank you.”

“Was everything okay with Dash?” He straddled the bench next to her.

“Yeah, just wasn’t feeling well.” She’d never been great at lying and took another sip to hide her expression.

“Sorry to hear that.” Ned glanced at the rising sun.

“I wanted to apologize.” Sophie put her coffee down on the table and closed her laptop. “You were right. It was mean of me to just cut you off in high school. Subconsciously, I think I wanted to be loved so badly, and I was trying to force that on us. When you didn’t reciprocate my feelings, I just bailed. I’m so sorry.”

Sophie briefly rubbed a spot on Ned’s knee to try to reassure him that she was being sincere. He scratched at his hair before responding.

“You know, you were always writing. And all your stories had these overly romantic, optimistic versions of relationships, even back then.” Ned gave her a faint smile. “Sometimes with us, you would slip into this idealized version of me, too. Kind of projecting who you wanted me to be instead of seeing who I was.”

Sophie found herself leaning forward to listen to him, because he was making a point she hadn’t yet considered. Sure, Sophie lived inside the stories she created while she was writing them, but did she really create alternate realities in her real life, too?

“Do you think that’s why we never fell in love? I wasn’t seeing who you really were?”

“I just think you have crazy-high standards.” He shrugged. “But I do wish we’d stayed friends. Neither of us had many back then.”

Well, that was true. They’d both been loners. And when she lost Ned, she had lost someone to talk to.

“If there’s ever anything I can do to make it up to you, just tell me.”

Ned hesitated before responding but eventually looked up and gave her a curious look. “I’m sure I’ll think of something.”

Sophie wanted to make sure they left on good terms, so she added, “Everything obviously worked out for the best. You have Brittany and a baby girl on the way.”

“And you have Dash.” He motioned toward the guesthouse, and Sophie glanced over. She wondered what Dash was doing at that moment. Was he awake? Actively avoiding her by hiding behind the curtains?

Sophie hesitated before eventually saying, “Right.” She didn’t move to correct Ned, even though she should. Maybe it was the fantasy part of her brain, but she wanted to live in the illusion that Dash was hers, and she was his, for a little longer.

The illusion was shattered almost instantly when Dash emerged from the guesthouse an hour later. He had the same scowl on his face Sophie had seen so many times before, and while she wasn’t shocked to see him looking a little rough around the edges, it was still a stark contrast from the Dash she’d known hours earlier.

“The repair shop called.” He held his phone up for evidence. “She’s ready.”

The drive home was quiet. Sophie usually filled the silence, but instead chose to stare straight ahead. It was a good thing she was strapped into her seat, because if there was any more tension in the car she might spring through the window from it.

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