I stood just outside of the Little Black Book skyscraper, staring up at it's countless windows glinting in the early morning sunlight. With one hand, I reached back into my bag and plucked out the story. My hands shook the paper so violently. I couldn't read the words. I let out a long and shaky breath, closing my eyes with my head still tilted upwards. It was all very Zen.
I guess I just had to accept it. Nothing would cure my nerves then and nothing ever had. With a new sense of determination, I walked through the rotating door of the building.
At first I walked in all the same, then I came to a jutting halt, overwhelmed by confusion.
I never really knew how to write those kind of moments in my books. The instant heartbreak ones, when her heart shatters like a sledgehammer to a car window. Slow, steady, heartbreak I could do. I'd felt them, nothing instant. But after that day, I would know exactly how to write those moments.
It almost felt like someone had drove their fist through my chest, moved some of my internal organs around a bit, then put my heart in my butt. Fate was laughing at me, like a cruel child with it's finger extended in my direction, doubled over from the pure comedy of my existence.
The scene before me slowly unfolded in my mind, though I'm positive only a few seconds actually passed.
First, I was mildly surprised to see Elliot in the lobby and away from his office, he seemed to stand out on that dull place with only it's cold, marble floors. And then, once I saw who he was with, I just stopped. And when I saw what he was doing, my jaw dropped to the floor.
Elliot was leaning on the semi-circle reception desk, talking to the queen of Hades herself, the secretary. I cursed myself for not knowing her name, and gave her a very ugly, and colorful one in my head. Because they weren't just talking about the weather or those new extra strength sticky notes, no, they were flirting. And even from a distance I could see Elliot was quite good at it.
I couldn't take the sight, but I was captivated. Like an Internet video of something so disgusting you think you might puke, and yet you still can't tear your eyes away. So I gawked for what seemed like a thousand years to me, in real time probably a few seconds. I could feel my fingers crunching the papers I still held in my hand, from what? Anger? I'm not quite sure.
Then I saw her little scrawny fingers reach into her desk, retrieve a piece of paper, and begin scribbling on it. Even before her cherry red lips whispered the words, I already knew. I think I always knew.
'Call me.' her lips whispered, flirtatious smile that made my stomach churn. And when I looked to Elliot, he wore the same expression. A flirtatious, cute, gut-wrenching, smirk. I already felt the moisture rising in my cheeks. I finally tore my eyes away, running silently out of the building as my eyes continued to brim with unshed tears.
Outside, as I rushed away and into the underground, I stopped, letting one tear fall onto the story I'd written for him before I shredded it all to pieces. I didn't look back at the pieces, and left them to rot with the trash where the rest of my hope was, too.
YOU ARE READING
I Write Romances, Not Live ThemTeen Fiction
Five-time New York Times #1 bestseller, Adelaide Maddox, is not like normal 21 year-olds for many reasons. Not only is she one of the most popular romance novelists, she's hiding something from her readers. She's never been in love, never even been...