Page 32 of Catching Kyle

“Well dig in,” he says.

“I have to say,” he says as I crack open the pad thai. The smell is heavenly, and the moisture of the food softens my hardened face.

“I have absolutely loved what you’ve been making me read.”

I look up at him with a furrowed brow. “Really?”

He nods vigorously. “Oh yeah. It was—” He lifts his fist to his mouth and clears his throat. “I enjoyed it,” he says, more subdued. “I may even have to concede and say that romance is inspiring.”

I widen my eyes at him with a mouth full of noodles.

To my relief, he cracks open his food—some chicken fried rice—and starts eating too. I’m glad to not be eating alone.

“Now that’s a win,” I say. Being around Kyle has buoyed my mood just a little bit. “What had you convinced?”

“It’s just…” He pulls on his beard and puts on his thinking face, accentuating all of his perfect facial features. “I never realized how deep romance can be. It’s like these authors dig into these character’s insecurities, and they have to overcome these insecurities to be with the ones they love.”

His words prick my heart, and heat trails down my torso like blood dripping from an open wound. “What do you mean?”

He shrugs. “I don’t know. It’s like—take Book Lovers. You have this accomplished blondie go to this small town. Her work is her life. Then she finds someone who makes her question these goals. Helps her see how she can slow down. But then she doesn’t give up on these goals. She just adapts to be better version of herself. I think that’s really cool. Definitely inspiring. I was expecting just blind affection. But these lovers don’t get tied up in just physical attraction. It’s emotional, too.”

The air in the room thins around me. I swallow my food and stare blankly ahead.

“And you know, that makes me think,” he says, nodding. “I think I’m ready to give you some feedback.”

My chest squeezes. He told me he wanted to wait until he read enough of the book, but I just thought he wasn’t reading at all. “Oh?”

“Your book—the premise is cool,” he says. “But the attraction just feels more physical than it does emotional. I’m having a hard time understanding what really attracts these two besides their looks.”

Nausea overwhelms me.

“I think if you looked at what these authors were doing—how they weave together internal issues with external problems—and tie that into the romance, your story would be stronger.”

I grimace and set my food down.

Kyle notices me, and his face lengthens. “Did I say something wrong?”

“I need to use the restroom,” I say. I make my way to the bathroom, the same one that I used the first time I came here.

“Can I get you anything?” He asks. “Tums? Pepcid?”

“I’m good,” I say, then shut the door. I sit down on the toilet and collapse into my hands.

That insight. How is that I’ve been reading romance for years and have never realized this? Of course. It’s so obvious. I even had a similar insight when I shared in that very first book club meeting about the title ofPride and Prejudice. But analyzing a text and writing are two different things. I didn’t understand how such an insight could apply to my own writing until now.

These characters he’s describing—they haveinternalproblems that are then interwoven, seamlessly when written by the greats, into the larger narrative. So when the character goes through external problems, such as interpersonal conflict with their love interest, they are forced to grow internally as well.That’swhat makes a story great. Not just an interesting plot or a hooky idea, but relatable characters growing emotionally as they endure and overcome relatable problems.

Amani talked about my book lacking that spark. She didn’t use these words, but my gut tells me that this is exactly what she was talking about.

And I couldn’t be angrier with myself.

Kyle Weaver—just a football player with more money than I could dream of having—came to this conclusion after reading only a handful of contemporary romance novels. What does that say about me, someone who’s been reading the romance genre for years? Shouldn’t I know this by now? Or has my resolution to stay away from unhealthy romance weakened, causing my writing intuition to wane?

There’s a knock at the door. “Michael, you alright?”

I raise my face from my hands. “Yeah, I’ll come out in just a minute.”

“Was it the food?” He asks.