I'm sitting at on my couch at home with a blanket over me, a hot chocolate on the coffee table, and a laptop on my lap.
I'm jotting down different ideas I've been thinking about writing, but I haven't managed to have the inspiration to start anything yet. I don't know why I thought it'd be easier to write for myself once I stopped writing for Stranger Things.
I close the laptop and put it down on the coffee table, letting out a sigh. I pick up my hot chocolate and lay back against the couch, before taking a sip.
I look outside the window at the clouds in the sky. Seeing the different shapes in them reminds me of the boat, and Joe.
I pick up my phone, scrolling through my contacts and my thumb hovering over his name on my screen. I'm not sure exactly why I feel hesitant to call him.
He's a big reason why I'm here right now, and he knows what it's like trying to find inspiration to write. I should call him.
I press on his name and press call. Holding the phone to my ear, I bring my hot chocolate to my cheek and feel the warmth.
"Hello?" Joe answers.
"Hey, it's Charlee," I say.
"I knew it was you silly. What's up?" He asks.
"Are you busy?" I ask.
"Nope, just laying at home reading. You okay?" Joe asks me.
"Yeah, I just wanted to ask some advice. Can we meet for a coffee or something?" I ask him, glancing down at my hot chocolate.
"I guess I owe you for the advice you gave me the other day" Joe laughs, "Yeah sure. At Cafe 98?"
"Yes, I'll see you in an hour if that's okay?" I ask.
"Of course it is, see you there" Joe says.
I hang up my phone and get ready to meet him.
* * * *
I walk into the coffee shop and find Joe already there, sitting at a table. He looks up and sees me watching, smiles and waves his hand. His smile makes my heart skip.
I walk over to him and sit down, immediately picking up the menu. Joe laughs at me.
"I don't know why you bother. You get the same thing every time," Joe says.
I put the menu down and make a face at him.
"Not every time," I counter.
"Every time," Joe says, giving me a knowing look.
"Okay then, you order for me since you know me so well," I tell him, crossing my arms.
Joe bites his lip and thinks for a second. He taps the table with his hands, and then gets up and walks over to the counter. After a minute or so he comes back.
"What did you get?" I ask him.
"You'll see," He says with a smirk.
I can't help but smiling back at him.
"What's this advice you wanted?" He asks.
"I've been trying to get started on writing for myself. Like what you said I should do. But, I can't figure out where to start," I say to him, leaning forward.
"Have you got any ideas?" He asks me.
"A few. But, they're all kind of random, I can't seem to get anything started. I figured since you write songs you'd be able to help," I explain.
"I mean, story writing is a little bit different to song writing. You can be more vague in songs, you know?" Joe says, unsure.
"Still... How do you find inspiration?" I ask him.
A flash of something passes his eyes. I'm not sure what. He looks down for a minute, and then looks up. Running his hand through his hair to get it off of his face.
"Write what you know. What you feel. Think of a thing, a time, a place, a person that made you feel something. Start there and it just kind of all comes out," Joe says to me.
He's fidgeting and looks uncomfortable.
"Are you okay?" I ask him.
"Yeah," He says, barely looking at me.
"Joe," I say.
He looks up.
"Did I do something wrong?" I ask.
He shakes his head.
"Of course not. Why?" He says.
"You've just been weird with me lately. We'll be like we normally are and then you get all distant," I say to him.
Joe goes to say something, but the waitress comes to the table with our order. A cappuccino for him, a chai latte for me, and two slices of baked cheesecake.
He's right. This is what I always get. I pick up my latte and take a sip. Enjoying the hot liquid scalding my throat. Joe takes a drink of his coffee, then puts the cup down and taps the side with his fingers.
"I don't know how to be with you," Joe says, suddenly.
"What?" I ask.
"I just mean, I like being around you. I mean obviously that's why I- um. Anyway. I want to be your friend, but when I'm with you I feel like I'm doing something wrong," Joe says to me.
I wonder what he was going to say before he stopped himself. I wonder what can be wrong about being friends with me.
"What's wrong with being my friend?" I ask.
"Gemma doesn't like it," Joe answers quietly.
"What? Why not?" I ask.
"The love interest thing I guess, the kiss scenes we have to do and everything," Joe says shrugging.
"But, you've done that all before. You did that with Natalia," I tell him.
"Yeah, but Natalia was with Charlie," Joe says looking at me.
I take another sip of my latte before continuing.
"So... If I get a boyfriend, we can still be friends?" I ask him laughing.
"Yeah, that might help," Joe says, laughing with me.
"Robert available?" He asks raising his eyebrows.
I shake my head.
"He's far too annoying to date. Besides, he has eyes on someone else, even though he's pretty sure it won't happen," I explain.
Joe leans forward.
"Okay, give me the tea," Joe says.
I laugh at him.
"What? That's what people say right?" Joe asks.
"Yeah, it just doesn't sound right coming from you," I tell him still laughing.
"I can't tell you who. I'm sworn to secrecy. I think he likes that this person might not like him back though. Unrequited love is easier sometimes. It can still hurt, but you're in control of that," I say to Joe.
Joe nods.
"I'm sorry being my friend is so hard," I say softly.
"It's not. Being around you is easy, it's just complicated right now," Joe says.
"I'm sure there's a simple solution," I say looking down.
Joe nods again.
"But a complicated consequence," Joe sighs.
I take a bite of my cheesecake, wondering if this will be the last time we hang out as friends.
* * * *
After an awkward goodbye, I found myself sitting down with my laptop again. Tapping my fingers along the frame, I put it down.
I take a deep breath in, and out. Close my eyes and let my mind wander. My brain drifts to the lake. Me and Joe rowing in silence, smiling at each other when our eyes catch each other. The reflection of the sun on the water. The intense heat of our hands barely touching.
My eyes open and I start to write.