The Writer's Assistant (ManxMan)

Chapter 30: Swimming Date

A/N: 29/05/2023

Hello everyone, finally a new update ;) I hope you enjoyed the spicy last two chapters 🤣
Two early updates have been posted on Patreon (Chapter 35 & 36) and one of them has smut 👀 the update schedule there is one new chapter every week, including exclusive/uncensored scenes.

This is very random but let's play a game 🤣 write a sentence in the comment section and the next person has to continue the story with another sentence. I saw this somewhere and want to know how creative my readers can get 😌😇

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Camilia called me to the office and told me Oliver was doing great. He was meeting his deadlines, seemed to be in a good mood, and suggested ideas to strengthen the plot of his story. It was as if he had a sudden burst of inspiration and motivation. They wanted to publish his book before the end of the year, meaning they only had a few months left.

"It's crazy how much things have changed since you arrived," Camilia said, handing me a cup of coffee. I thanked her and sat down on her office couch.

"I haven't done much," I murmured.

"Haven't done much? Oliver has changed ever since you came into the picture, and I mean it in every good way possible! I've been contacting larger media platforms, and they're dying to know more about him. His interview with Tina Grenswell! The public has been all over him since they found out what a hottie he is. He has even gotten commercial and modeling offers."

It didn't surprise me. With Oliver's looks, he could destroy someone else's career. Fortunately for the male models, he lacked the desire and ambition.

"But Oliver isn't interested," Camilia said, confirming my thoughts. "He's always been like that. Other people would kill to get the offers he has, but he won't even consider them. They'd die to get a second of spotlight and fame, but it comes to him so effortlessly, yet he doesn't care. I'm not sure if it's a gift or a curse."

"I don't think it comes effortlessly," I replied quietly. I'd seen Oliver spend hours in front of the computer, typing endlessly before shutting the screen in frustration. He'd pinch his nose bridge, and inhale deeply, before starting over. It was as if he was at war with himself, and I could only imagine how chaotic it was in his mind.

'How did the writing go?' I'd sometimes ask at the end of the day.

It doesn't fit the plot. There's no character development. I spent the entire day writing three drafts only to delete them, and I feel like a failure,' he'd grumble miserably. 'I know how the story will end. I just don't know how to get there.'

Oliver was harsh on himself. He was far from a perfectionist, but he needed everything to be spotless when it came to writing. It was the tragic fate of an artist to never be satisfied with the product of their art. No matter what he did, he'd always want to change and modify something.
'It'll never be perfect, but I like it,' he'd once said to me.

And when Oliver said that, he was smiling but looked so devastatingly heartbroken. To him, his stories were everything. His characters were his children. And to have days when he couldn't serve them justice made him feel like a disappointment. I didn't realize how attached writers were to their stories until I saw the process with my own eyes.
But despite the struggles and bumps along the way, Oliver loved what he did. Writing was his heaven and Hell.

He could spend hours jotting ideas and writing chapters. The world grew timeless when he entered the world of fiction. He'd be so sucked into his own world that he'd forget to eat if I didn't tell him it was time for lunch or dinner. Sometimes I'd go out to do some errands and return to find him sitting exactly where he was when I had left, writing. He'd sometimes look up from his screen and stare out the window in surprise, asking, "It's already night?"

"You're right," Camilia said, snapping me out of my thoughts. "Oliver works hard, and it's good to see him back on his feet. He owes a lot of it to you."

"I'm just doing my job."

"And you're doing amazing," she beamed. "But I have a favor to ask of you. Do you think you can teach Oliver to drive?"

I blinked in surprise. "Drive? But Oliver doesn't like driving."

"Which is why I think it's a good idea if he starts overcoming his fear, and I think the only person that can help him is you."

"Why me?"

Camilia shrugged. "Your contract ends in a year, right? And it's already been five months, which means there are seven months left. I want Oliver to know how to drive before you leave since there is no guarantee that his next assistant will be as effective as you."

I liked Camilia, but she could be brutally factual at times. I guess that was what made her such a great editor. She wasn't afraid to highlight mistakes or flaws, no matter how hurtful her constructive criticism could be. As an editor, she was the person you most despised but absolutely needed. But she could also be just as factual in real life. I had a hard time adapting at first, but I eventually grew used to it. Oliver told me he grew thicker skin with Camilia than with his commanders in the military.

Bringing up the end of our contract made me stiffen. I knew it would happen eventually, but hearing her say it made me uneasy.

"I think you should help him overcome his fear," she continued. "He truly appreciates you."

"I don't know."

"You won't be his assistant forever, and Oliver needs to move on from his past so he can start a new chapter."

***

Oliver was working in the kitchen while I was going through the emails we received asking for an exclusive interview with Oliver. I glanced over at him as he worked on his manuscript. His beautiful blue eyes were framed behind black glasses perched on his perfect nose.

His lips were pursed, and his jaw was tight, making his lips sharper and more angular than they already were. How could he look so perfect? He was wearing his favorite polka-dot pajamas and still looked sexy.

Despite its quirkiness, I couldn't help but notice his muscles and toned chest. He must have noticed me staring because he looked at me, the crease between his brows vanishing when our eyes locked. I felt the unexpected need to say something and blurted, "Will you swim with me?"

"Swim or sleep?"

He said it so casually I almost didn't catch it. My face reddened.

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A/N: Please don't forget to leave a vote on this chapter ❤️

Q/A: If you could live anywhere in the world for a year (or forever), where would it be?