The Taming of the Shrew

Pathways

Elizabeth's POV

"Darling, what's this?" Tom calls from the living room. I quickly pull on a t-shirt and pajama pants, my mouth still watering at the thought of the pizza we're going to have in just about 20 minutes. Speaking of, uncle Rob should be here soon. I walk into the room smiling, and stop dead in my tracks. My face falls. Oh shit. I stare wide eyed at him, alarmed. He is standing next to the table reading the thick draft of a novel; the thick draft of my novel.

"Put it back." I say to him seriously. He laughs flicking through the pages, reading the inky black words, moving around the room to avoid me. He smirks as he reads. Oh fuck. Oh fuck.

"By Elizabeth Thompson. You wrote this?" He asks with a chuckle. I roll my eyes and quickly walk to him. He dodges me and moves around to the other side of the couch.

"Yes, okay. I fucking wrote it. Now give it back before i fuck you up." I say, moving to him again. He holds up one hand to stop me, supporting the draft with the other, mouthing the written words softly with a grin stained on his face. I press my fingers into my closed eyes. How the fuck did he find it? Fuck. His face loses its boyish grin and turns serious as he reads. Oh jesus.

"This is good; actually, this is amazing, love." He says after a minute. I scoff and hold out my hand. Yeah, right.

"Im glad you think so. Now give the fucking stupid thing back." I say. He shakes his head and turns the page. I scoff and shake my head. For fucks sake.

"Seriously, have you ever thought of trying to get this published?" He asks me, looking up. I stare at him in disbelief. What? Fuck that.

"Fuck no. Give it back." I make a reach for it. He dodges me again, closing the book and hugging it to himself. Im so going to kick his ass.

"Why not? Its so advanced and philosophic and, from what i can tell, its gotta be a good storyline. Just consider it? How did i not know you were writing?" He asks, smirking. I'd rather not say. I'd really rather not say. I sigh.

"I'd rather not say. Please, just drop it." I say, biting my bottom lip. He cocks one eyebrow and sits on the arm of the couch. Fuck, this is awkward.

"Well, now you just have to tell me how i didnt know." He says, chuckling. I internally groan. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Just come clean. Fuck it.

"Because i wrote it in the year you were gone." I say defeatedly. Toms face falters. Shit. Why did i say that?

"So, its based on me then?" He asks. I shrug. I guess it is a little bit. It was a passtime to get my mind off of him and everything.

"So, since its based on me, i get a say in what happens to the book. I want it sent to a publisher." He says, smiling again. I raise one eyebrow. He's not mad? A publisher? Its absurd. Absolutely fucking crazy. But he is right. He should have a say. It's kinda about him in a way i guess. Fuck, he's not gonna let up. I think for a moment.

"If i send it to a publisher, i want full control of the remote and 5 of your shirts." I say. Tom puts down the draft and crosses his arms, smirking and staring me down.

"10% of the remote and 8 of my shirts." He tries to negotiate. I shake my head. Fuck that. 10% of the remote. Thats fuck all. I might as well not have a remote.

"70% of the remote, 7 of your shirts, and one of your hoodies." I say, upping the stakes. He chuckles and stands to his full height, walking over to me.

"50% of the remote, 6 of my shirts, and a shared hoodie." He says. I laugh and hold out my hand to shake on it. He shakes my hand then pulls me into a warm hug, kissing the top of my head.