Page 84 of Written By a Woman

ChapterNineteen

SIGNE

“So, how’s your book going?”Mary randomly asked me one morning. It had been a little over a week since my dinner date with Zaid, and we had gotten together after work twice since. Once to walk the bluffs of Laguna Beach to watch the sunset and another time to try a new ice cream joint that had just opened up a few blocks away from the office in Irvine.

I held my finger up to my lips immediately after Mary’s question, panicking as I checked the surroundings to make sure nobody else was nearby.

“Cool it,” I hissed, “You and Jamie are the only ones here that know about it.”

Mary rolled her dark eyes before setting her bag on my desk and rummaging around in it. She pulled out a red lip stain and a compact mirror, applying the makeup with an effortless swipe before saying, “So, are you no longer writing the book?”

I grimaced, pulling the crew neck of my sweatshirt up over my face in embarrassment, “No, we’re getting ready to send out the first round of submissions to publishers to see if anyone is interested in the rights to it.”

Mary snickered, “Nice. I respect this decision.”

I pulled my sweatshirt down just enough for my eyes to reveal themselves, “Why is that?”

“Because writing a book is kickass,” Mary smacked her lips together before dropping her stain and compact mirror back in her bag, which was covered in buttons and stickers, “And who cares if one of the characters looks like someone we know.”

I bit my lip and dropped my hold on my sweatshirt, drumming my fingers on my desk.

Mary stared pointedly at my fingers before narrowing her dark eyes at me, “Spill.”

“I don’t wanna.” I whined.

“Do it.” Mary leaned forward on my desk, “Or I’ll tell Jacqueline about the book.”

I glared at her, “You wouldn’t dare.”

“Try me,” Mary glared back at me.

I held my breath, kind of hoping that I would just pass out to avoid telling Mary anything but knowing that wouldn’t actually fix any of my problems.

Who knew, perhaps Mary would have some advice for me?

“I…think I’m dating Zaid,” I whispered as quietly as I could.

Mary’s jaw dropped, “What? Since when?”

I closed my eyes and whispered again, “Since we made out and he finger banged me in Tennessee.”

Mary released the girliest gasp I had ever heard from her, before she ran around my desk and sat on the lower ledge, leaning in, and wiggling her eyebrows at me, “Was it amazing?”

Perhaps Mary wouldn’t have advice for me.

“Of course it was amazing,” I hissed, “It’s all I have been able to think about. That, and the fact that he and I are going out to dinner tonight.”

“Oh my god,” Mary’s eyes widened, “It’s not just sex?”

“No,” I shook my head, my hands tugging on the back of my neck in the stress, “It’sfeelings. We haven’t even had penetrative sex yet. He keeps being all sweet and respectful, and it’s ruining my life.”

“Wow,” Mary deadpanned, “What an asshole.”

“I’m serious,” I was sweating under my sweatshirt, “What do I do? I can’t keep dating him and publish a book about him without him knowing!”

“Well,” Mary lifted a shoulder, “Maybe it’s time for you to just tell him.”

“But what if he hates me?”