Page 30

I settle into my sleeping bag on the rock-hard floor, squished between the end table and wall, trying not to think of Lauren in the same room as me.

After several long minutes of trying to get comfortable on the floor, Lauren shifts in bed, the metal frame squeaking when she rolls over.

“Tate?”

“Yeah?”

She hesitates. “I can’t sleep.”

I stare at the ceiling, the planks in the floor pressing into my back. “Well, that makes two of us.”

“Could you read something?”

“What?”

“Read to me,” she repeats. The bed squeaks, and I know she’s turned toward me in the darkness even though I can’t see her. “I saw you were reading a book on your iPad. And I wondered if you could read it out loud so I can fall sleep…”

“Wait a minute.” I sit up in my sleeping bag. “You think I read books that put people to sleep?”

“Well, aren’t they?”

“Oh, the one I’m reading now is so exciting, you might never sleep.” I smirk, picturing her reaction if she knew the truth—that the book I’m reading is actually the one I wrote. The fantasy novel I’ve been working on for years, the one I hope to publish soon.

“Try me,” Lauren says. “I bet I’ll be sawing logs within minutes.”

I turn on my iPad while trying to find a comfortable position crammed between the furniture. I shift against the wall, but the paneling digs into my back.

“What’s the holdup?” she asks.

“Well, it turns out these walls make terrible recliners.”

“Do you want to sit here?” She motions toward the sofa bed. “Look, I’m not offering anything more than a place to read. But if you need a backrest, it’s better than the floor.”

“Are you inviting me into your personal space, Sunny?”

“I’m inviting your spine to not suffer,” she says, scooting over to the edge of the mattress. “Only doing this for your back health.”

I smirk. “How generous of you.”

She rolls to her stomach and adjusts her pillow beneath her. “Well, you did save my life today.”

I join her on the sofa bed, careful to keep some space between us, avoiding looking at her because it’s safer that way. “How do you feel about fantasy novels?”

“I should’ve known you’re reading Tolkien."

“Not Tolkien. A new writer. Someone you’ve never heard of.”

“Is he any good?” She’s tucked under her blanket, hidden from view.

“You be the judge. But let me set the scene for you first.” I shift slightly, getting comfortable against the sofa.

“The story follows Thorne, a prince with ancient magic, and Kyara, a seemingly ordinary young woman with untapped potential. They’re sworn enemies from warring kingdoms who find themselves reluctantly allied against the dark forces threatening the Forbidden Forest of Eledon.

Thorne must teach Kyara to wield both a weapon and magic—because if she doesn’t learn quickly, she won’t survive what’s coming. ”

“Got it,” Lauren says. “Good versus evil. Training to survive. Basically, every fantasy novel there ever was.”

“That’s like saying hockey is just men chasing a puck around ice. The magic is in the details, Sunny.” Then I start reading:

Thorne adjusted Kyara’s grip on the bow, his hands warm over hers.

“You’re holding too much tension in your shoulders,” he murmured, his voice close enough to send a shiver down her spine.

“Breathe, Kyara. A bow is not meant to be wrestled into submission. It’s an extension of you. It moves with you, not against you.”

She exhaled slowly, his touch steadying her as he guided her arms into position, the warmth of his body against hers causing her to lose focus on her training.

The night air hummed between them, charged with magic and something she couldn’t ignore.

This man was supposed to be her enemy. But now he was training her to fight, to survive in the forests of Eledon on her own, and it didn’t make sense to her.

Why would he help her, when he could make her his captive?

Instead, he was treating her like an equal.

“Now, draw back,” he instructed. “Feel the weight of the arrow.”

Kyara’s heart hammered as Thorne’s hands lingered just a second longer than necessary on hers.

His breath brushed her cheek. She’d spent weeks fighting him, resisting his presence, his authority over her, his infuriating ability to see through her defenses.

But right now, hidden in the quiet of the forest with only him guiding her, she felt something else entirely. Something far more dangerous…”

I pause in the story, glancing at Lauren, who doesn’t look like she’s blinked for the last few minutes. “I think we need to stop here. You look too sleepy to continue.”

“Stop…What? No! I need to know what happens. Why are they enemies? Is he one of these morally gray men?”

“I see somebody’s impatient.” I smirk, reveling in the fact that she’s asking for more of my book. “I thought you’d be out within minutes.”

“I will be,” she shoots back, sitting up in bed. “But I have to find out what happens first with Kyara. Oh, my gosh, do they end up kissing?”

“I’m not telling,” I say, flicking off my iPad, the room suddenly plunging into darkness.

Out of nowhere, a pillow smacks me on the head. “You’re doing this on purpose.”

“I thought you didn’t like fantasy?” I say, pushing the pillow back at her.

“I don’t, but this isn’t just fantasy, and clearly you’ve gotten to a good part and then left me with a cliffhanger. You think I can sleep now?”

“I think we should just call it a night,” I say, scooting to the edge of the bed, away from her pillow. “Big day tomorrow.”

“No, Tate!” She lunges toward me, grabbing my arm so I can’t leave. “I need another chapter. He just taught her how to fight. Now he has to fall in love with her.”

“So, what you’re telling me is…you like it?” My relief is growing bigger by the second.

She straightens her face. “Maybe a little.”

“You’re willing to admit you were wrong about my boring fantasy book?”

She exhales, clearly trying to downplay it. “It’s not that bad,” she says, then pauses. “Okay, fine. I’m invested. Could you start at the beginning, though? I need their backstory first.”

My laugh comes out like a low rumble. “I knew you’d like it.”

“Oh, hush. No rubbing it in,” she says, falling back on her pillow, trying unsuccessfully to hide her smile behind her blanket. “One more chapter, please? From the beginning?”

Warmth spreads through me. Lauren Williamson—PR queen and self-proclaimed fantasy skeptic—is asking to hear more of my story.

With that, I turn the page.