+TYPED OUT-

++EYES SPY-

Though he knew who Colin was, Kenneth couldn't control the hint of jealousy that poked his ribs as he watched Monday reply to the editor. The torture was about to heighten.

Monday, who spied Kenneth from the corner of her eye, suddenly grew interested in Colin's chit-chat and smiled warm-heartedly at every comment.

"So you were a writer before. Why the change?" Monday asked.

Colin swiped a hand at the back of his head. He was used to the question, and he had the answer. Still, he was shy, "I'm one of those people with one story to tell. I got lucky. I got a deal, made a trilogy, and then nothing. Absolute oblivion."

Monday's eyes widened, "you mean you've never imagined a plot since?"

"Nope, zero, zilch. I've never been able to write again."

Monday tilted back on her stool, "wow, that's just so sad."

Colin smiled, "I wanted to die. I went into depression, and then I got this illumination. Being a writer isn't the only job."

"A job?" Dagmar and Monday exclaimed.

"I know writing is your passion, but you're paid to do it. So even if it doesn't feel like it, it's your job."

"I have a big problem with that. I mean, it's the reality, but I really don't see writing as a job," Monday answered.

"Have you ever tried counting how many hours you write? You may work more than an office clerk or bank teller. People think royalties are too much, but what can we say to someone who spent ten years of their existence writing a series or writers who sign for four releases per year? They work hard; some have day jobs and families."

"Gosh, stop it. You're going to make me cry," Monday said.

Colin blushed as he realized how dramatic he made things sound. He hurried to his conclusion, "I know how hard it is to write. I spent my teenage years without a friend or lover. When the inspiration stopped, I had nothing and no one to turn to. So yeah, I'm an editor, and I always try to remind writers there's more to life and them than their books."

There it was, the golden time where one opens their eyes and sees the other another way. It was also Kenneth's cue to jump in. He hadn't made all these declarations to see his love interest whisked away by Mr. Anoymus.

"Well, well, I turn my back, and what do I see? You, flirting with someone else."

Monday's eyes grew wide at the comment that would allow anyone to imagine there was something between them, "Paㅡpardon."

"You heard me," Kenneth said and gave Monday a wink, only to be sneered at by the woman.

Colin, who wasn't sure he had heard right, had no time to respond as Kenneth proceeded to devour his reaction, "hello Kenneth Mosely," he said, stretching out his hand to Colin.

"Oh, I know who you are, Mr. Mosely. I'm a great fan."

Monday rolled her eyes once more while wondering where all the Kenneth haters were. Everyone seemed to bow down to him. It wasn't like he had done anything for humanity.

Kenneth smiled and asked Colin which of his books he liked. He listened to Colin's response before saying, "do you mind if I borrow Monday for a minute or two?"

Colin opened his mouth only to have his response snatched by Monday, "I mind. We were having a conversation before you arrived.

Kenneth nodded, "Okay, then, in that case. I'll grab a stool and sit with you till you finish."

"Kenneth."

"Yes, Monday."

"Can I have a word with you?"

"Sure, it was all I wanted in the first place."

Monday shook her head and left her seat. Kenneth followed her out, leaving Colin wondering what had just happened.

"Don't mind them," Dagmar said as she watched Monday and Kenneth make their way to the exit.

"Do they know each other? I mean, personally," Colin asked.

Dagmar laughed, "isn't it obvious?"

Kenneth and Monday had made it to the door when someone stopped them, "where do you, think yor goin' you ugly buggerrr? Arrr you planning to leave without presenting me."

"No, of course not, Mathilda," Kenneth replied before returning his gaze to Monday," eh, Monday, meet Matilda. She works for Life Edition as chief editor."

"I'm also his cousin."

"She's also my cousin," Kenneth added mockingly.

"And I guess, yor his middle part?"

Monday blinked, "Iㅡ."

"You guessed right, Mathilda. Now, if you don't mind, can you leave us so we can write other parts?" Kenneth said and grabbed Monday's hand. Before anyone else could stop them, they were out of the bar.

"Talk about discretion," Monday said once outside.

"What are you embarrassed? At your age?"

"Oh, like you're not. Tomorrow people will be talking about Kenneth Mosley and the Tunafish sandwich writer."

Kenneth cocked a brow, "And?"

"And it's not like it's something you want. The grand Kenneth Mosley can't have such a bad rep."

Kenneth tightened his grip on her hand making the woman realize he had been holding it since.

"Monday, don't tell me; I must remind you that people gossip and talk. I'm a fan of tuna sandwiches, and I don't mind the reputation."

"What do you want, Kenneth? You can't expect me to welcome you with open arms, just with one note."

"I know, but can't we work on the open arms part?"

"Kenneth."

The man approached and looked straight into her eyes, "please, Monday, can we try?"

"Don't look at me like that," Monday said.

"How am I looking at you?"

Like some,ㅡlike someone inㅡ, just don't do it, okay?"

Eyes.

Monday knew Kenneth was sincere. All he wanted was a chance, and he stared at her with the eyes of love.

"I was talking to someone, Kenneth. You can't just barge on my conversations when you feel like it."

"I couldn't stand it. That guy was clearly hitting on you."

"And Colin's a colleague."

"But you seem to be having fun," Kenneth replied, downcasting his eyes on his shoes like a child.

"We were talking."

Kenneth looked up, "I don't know what took over me. I suddenly desired you to talk to me. I wanted you to smile and laugh at my banters."

Monday turned her head to the side to muffle her laughter while wondering where Kenneth situated the limit of his bluntness.

"Kenneth, how old are you, seriously?"

"Not old enough," Kenneth said while swaying her hand.

Monday shook her head at him. The man was incorrigible, he made her boil in so many ways, yet she couldn't get passed him. "I hope jealousy isn't a habit of yours. I hate it."

Kenneth pursed his lips for a sarcastic smile, "I'll work on it."

"You better."

Kenneth felt he had obtained the answer to his request to rewrite their story. Monday's words weren't much, but they had a scent of acceptance.