Write Me A Love Story

(CH. 21)❤️️ | Reece POV

The sound of my whiskey bottle opening echoed in my kitchen. I never drank hard. But tonight, I needed it. The bottle had been sitting on top of my fridge for months, barely touched.

I filled up my glass, watching the ice bob to the top.

I wasn't sure what the drink would do. Help me shut down. Help me think. I needed my walls to fall so I could sit and realize what Camila was feeling in this moment. Her fear. Her anxiety.

Could I let her give up her dream so easily?

She'd worked so hard on this story. It was day and night, in between work shifts. That tale was her life, her emotions, and it deserved to see the world.

Grabbing my glass, I took a swig and moved into my living room. I plopped down on my couch with a hand to my face. I felt like I failed her dream; she came to me for help and I promised to get her there.

Now, I sat back and settled with her decision.

She wasn't going to enter her story. She was backing out of the contest

Fuck you imposter syndrome.

My phone buzzed on my coffee table. I grabbed it in an instant. Was it Camila? Did she change her mind?

Pressing my phone to my ear, I accepted the call. "Camila?"

No hello, no what's up—I went for it.

"Oh, no, did something happen between you two?"

I sighed as I leaned back on the couch. It wasn't Camila, but Dolores. Why was she calling me so late?

"Hey, Mama," I whispered.

"Oh boy. Something did happen. You only call me mama when you're flustered."

I felt a little more than flustered. Definitely anxious. Heavy.

I lifted my glass and drank.

"Was that ice? Are you drinking? Oh, Reece, talk to me."

I chewed on my bottom lip and glanced over at my desk. My journals were scattered over the top in a mess. My laptop sat open with the screen on standby. Taking another large drink from my cup, I walked over to it, hissing as the alcohol slid down my chest.

I tapped a button on the keyboard to bring the computer to life. "Remember when I said I wanted to write poems?"

Dolores hummed on the other line. "Of course I do."

I tapped my laptop to bring up a word document. Camila's story. "And what did you tell me?"

There was a pause. Then Dolores cleared her throat. "Is there a reason why you're asking me?"

I couldn't hide if I was upset. It was in my voice, and if she was in front of me, I was sure she would see it on my face.

I sat down in my desk chair. "I just need to know... if I should do something."

"Do what?"

"Dolores," I sighed and rubbed my forehead, "what was it you told me? And why?"

There was another pause. And a sigh. After some shuffling on her end, she said, "You need to write your heart on paper and share it with the world. And never, ever be afraid of what others think. Your words and just that, yours. Another person's opinion doesn't matter."

It may have been the reason why I never hit a wall. My words, my stories, were valid. And Dolores was the person who pushed me to try.

I tapped Camila's document history. I went back to the last typed sentence, the one deleted right after. I licked my lips as I reread it.

It was a perfect ending.

It left room for possible sequels.

I couldn't let her pass up this chance.

"Dolores, what would you have done if I said I couldn't do it, that I couldn't take a chance on my poems?"

She chuckled. "Well, you remember what I said."

"I know," I bit my lip, "I just need to hear it."

Still chuckling, she sighed. "I told you if you didn't do it, I would do it for you."

I gulped. "And why would you have done it?"

"Because I love you," Dolores said without hesitation.

And that was what I needed to hear.

It was there in front of me. I needed to submit Camila's story for her. I couldn't let her pass this chance. The opportunity was there in front of her. I loved her, really loved her, and hated to see her give up. She was there, right at the finish line.

I couldn't just not do anything.

I returned her final sentence to the document. I added the comma where it was needed. The word count was above the contest requirements, so I hit save. I moved a copy to my desktop for easy finding. Then I went Pioneering Arts homepage online.

"Reece, are you going to do something you regret?"

I bit my lip. The submission form for the story contest was simple and thankfully didn't require more than a name, a phone number, and email address.

All information I had.

"Reece, are you going to regret whatever it is your doing?

I filled in Camila's details. I hit submit. Then I stood from my seat and went back for my glass, finishing it in one gulp.

"You know me, Dolores," I said, glancing back at my laptop. "I may regret it, but I think my actions are valid."

They have to be because Camila's an amazing writer and deserves to win.

"You know I'll be here to talk if you think you did do something wrong," she said.

"I know," I sighed, looking into my kitchen. My eyes slid over to the digital time clock on my microwave's screen. "Was there a reason you're calling me this late? It's almost midnight."

"Maybe it was a loving heart having a feeling."

I chuckled. "A feeling? About me?"

"Ah, you know," she laughed, "can't be mad because I was right and you needed someone to talk to right now."

I did. And her words helped my decision.

Grinning, I walked into my kitchen and opened my fridge. After my drink, I needed some water. "What's the real reason, Dolores?"

She cleared her throat and hummed. "Can you come in early and help me log the new books?"

Was that all? "Sure," I said as I closed the fridge door. "I'll be there early. Seven, good?"

"Seven's great," Dolores said happily. "Thank you. Love you."

"Love you, too, Mama."