Falling for a Writer

Chapter 1: Getting into Dates

Author's Note:

-Hi guys since I'm so kind(LOL) I'm going to schedule every updates in this story on weekends so you wouldn't have to wait in vain.

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                The living room was a chaotic mess of crumpled balls of papers, staplers and pens. The center table covered in a mixture of wide open dictionaries and old books with her laptop propped at the edge of the center table. The floor was littered with chips and crumbs from cookies, her reading glasses hidden underneath chocolate wrappers. The HORROR! I decided to distract myself on the overwhelming view outside her large glass walls, it was New York City captured at its best―of tall alight buildings and the noisy nightlife under such a gloomy night.

“Sean, I can’t do it anymore!”She whined, slumping into the couch in exasperation. I rolled my eyes at her, I’ve seen this a hundred times already to even try and stress myself to encourage her.

“Should I tell the Printers to move the deadline then?”I abruptly took my phone out and scrolled down the contact list, searching for the Printer’s number. I was just about to make my call when a solid object hit me hard on the forehead, toppling me off the couch with me landing first class on my butt at the―with much emphasis―unforgiving floor.

“Damn it, Miane!”I cussed; rubbing the small bump in my forehead as I frantically searched for whatever it was that hit me.

“Don’t move the deadline, you idiot!”She screamed. “I didn’t sleep for a week to be able to pass this on time.”

“So you decided to throw a dictionary at my face?”I spat as my gaze dropped on the now innocent thick book at the end of the couch.

“No.”She retorted. “It’s an encyclopedia, dummy.”

I hissed at her, closing my eyes forcing myself to stay calm. Be calm and rational, Sean. Be calm and rational. I heave out a long breath and looked at her rather calmly…or at least without having the intention to strangle her to death.

               “Fine!”I raised my arms in defeat. “Let’s just get to business and tell me what’s wrong with the story.”I climbed back into the couch and sat with my feet up on the center table.

             “Nothing’s wrong with it.”She mumbled with her eyes downcast. “Ugh. Here, read the draft I made for the flashback part.”She threw a bundle of stapled sheets to my lap, puffing her cheeks in defiance.

 “Which part is it?”I asked, skimming through the pages.

“It’s the last chapter, where the guy reminisces about their first date in college.”I nodded and started reading.

                I stood in the middle of the dock next to a yacht with a Baby Romantica Rose in hand― waiting, anticipating for Juliene’s arrival. I wonder what she’s wearing. Is she feeling the same excitement and dread I feel right now?  Is she having the same worries and debates on whether she should wear something casual or just the usual shirt and jeans?

“So far so good.” I murmured under my breath. What’s wrong with it? And then I read this:

                Call me stupid for overdoing this on our first date but I wanted to make this night special for the both of us. She’ll be especially thrilled when she finds out I rented a yacht for the night and prepared a candle-lit dinner…

My jaw dropped. “You do know that this is a date between two college students, right?”I waited for her usual witty comebacks and sarcastic reasoning but all I got was a sly nod and―if this is even possible―silence. There was silence. “Two independent working college students.”I added.

“Who can’t even afford to pay their rent―”

“Yes, I know that!”She snapped, narrowing her round eyes at me. “I made the characters, remember?”

“Then why the freaking fudge cakes did you make their date like this?”I grabbed the closest pillow and used it to hit her on the back of the head.

“Not everyone has a pampered life like yours with a bachelor from a wealthy family as a fiancée!”Doesn’t she even have the least bit of idea how normal middle class people interact with each other? She can’t be that naïve and clueless. Stupid spoiled brat.

“Ex-fiancée!”She corrected me.

“You mean ex-fiancées.”

Miane’s parents often set her up with men from a few well-known families and each time she rejects them on their first date and if that doesn’t work…her evil schemes always sends them running away in fright.

“Okay, fine! So I never had a so-called normal date.”She blushed. “I never got the chance. I rarely had friends back in college since I was to busy with other activities. My parents wanted me to learn as much things being the sole successor of our company.”She blurted out in embarrassment.

                There it is again, the painful throbbing in my head. “You’re a pain in the ass. You know that?”I told her, laying my head on a pink plushy.

“Am I? Don’t boys usually cause that to girls?”She remarked, a mischievous grin plastered on her face.

“Shut up!”

“Well, you can just tell me what happened on your dates in college.”She suggested carefully drawing out the words from her mouth.

I thought about it, but I know full well that it won’t work. Miane’s writing was all about from experience same with how she elaborates the characters' feelings. It makes her story all the more vivid and intense. It was her trademark. A sudden thought suddenly came into my mind and my whole body stiffened, the hairs at the back of my neck standing on end…No, no, no! I won’t do it! There has to be another way.

“We’ll just have to deal with this the old way.”I muttered between gritted teeth.

God, wherever you are, I promise I’ll go to church every Sunday, I’ll even do my laundry everyday just don’t let her agree to this. I prayed, crossing my fingers tightly.

My heart pounded loudly into my chest, deafening both of my ears. I know I’m going to regret this. I took in a deep breath. “We’ll have to go out on a date.”The words rushed out from my mouth in a heap.

Here it is. Oh God. Please..! Make her say no. C’mon say it. Say no. Say no. Say no. Sa―

“Okay.” And all my hope went crashing outside the window, falling high up from the 23rd floor landing on the roof of some random yellow taxi. My spirit? It died out of suffocation under a pink plushy.

Why, God? Why?

*To be continued.*

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