Page 18 of The Nicest Thing

"Because of the stigma attached to the genre."

"That's right," I said with a sigh. "But it's also because I'm indie."

Ana frowned. "Why would that matter? A good book is a good book."

"You'd think."

"Isn't that how it is?"

"Not always. When you decide to indie publish, some readers will automatically think your work is less than. You're not a real writer in their eyes."

Lola raised her hand again. "What does indie mean exactly?"

"It means," Ana said before I could answer, "instead of waiting for some traditional publisher to validate her writing, she published the book herself."

"Badass," Lola said.

"Rose is a badass, a total boss. She didn't need permission. She took control of her destiny, believed in her work, and put her stories out there."

I stared at my cousin as she grinned.

"It's one of the many reasons I'm proud of her," Ana finished.

My eyes were watery, but I wouldn't let the tears fall. Ana had called me a badass. She was proud of me. I had to live up to that. Still…

"I love you so much," I said to which she rolled her eyes.

"Anyway, how do you deal with writer's block? I can't get past the scene I'm writing, and I desperately need help."

I shrugged. "Cry in corner, sit back down in front of the computer, and push past it."

The teens wrote down my words which astonished me.

Lola tilted her head. "Mrs. Reid said you write sports romance. Any soccer in there?"

"Actually, yeah," I said. "I love soccer—though I haven't written one with a female soccer MC yet."

"You totally should," she said.

"Maybe I will."

"What about murder mystery or dark romance?" Hazel asked.

I lifted a brow. "Not really my genres." As her face fell, I said, "But I know several authors write them and are really successful. Also, I've read a few mafia romances that I surprisingly loved."

She sent me a nod. "Mafia romance is superior."

"Yeah," Freya said, "but historical will always be my fave."

"Romantasy forever," Ana added.

Everyone looked to Scotlyn, and she said, "I don't know. I just love romance. I love reading it and writing it."

My thoughts exactly.

"It sounds like you're an eclectic group," I said. "I wish they would've had a writing club like this when I was in high school."

The girls laughed.

"How did you find each other?"

Hazel lifted a brow. "Well, I started the group. Counselor Hightower said it would look good on my college applications."

"But she named it something horrible so no one would join," Scotlyn put in.

"Really?" I looked between the five of them. "What's the name?"

"Do you want to tell her or should I?" Ana asked.

Hazel's frown twitched. "Go ahead."

"We're The Society of Awkward Delinquents and Bad Lyricists Underwriting Eulogies and Sorrow."

My eyebrows rose. "That's a long name."

"You're not kidding," Freya said.

Lola laughed. "That was the whole point. Hazel didn't want anyone signing up for her little club."

"I was going through my moody loner phase," Hazel said by way of explanation.

"Pretty sure it never ended," Ana said back, and after a stare down, they both laughed.

"Yeah, you're right."

"It works for you."

"It does," Lola agreed with a smile. To me she said, "She was so pissed when we all showed up."

"Thought she was going to have this library time all to herself," Freya put in. "But now, she loves us."

Hazel gave a gusty sigh, but I could tell they enjoyed each other's company.

"The Sad Blues," I said, nodding. "I like it."

"What?" Ana asked.

"The S.A.D. B.L.U.E.S. The Society of Awkward Delinquents and Bad Lyricists Underwriting Eulogies and Sorrow. Fun acronym."

When they just stared at me, I felt my lips pull up in a smile.

"You didn't mean to do that?"

Hazel shook her head. "No, I was going for Edgar Allen Poe meets Taylor Swift."

"That makes it even better," I said. "Unintentional genius."

As they laughed, I crossed my arms.

"Okay, you guys are obviously much more interesting. I've talked enough about my writing. I want to hear about yours."

And on it went.

I learned so much about the girls, what they liked to write, who their favorite authors are, their future hopes and dreams. I gave them tips and advice on developing writing habits to help them finish their manuscripts as well as little things I'd learned along the way.

We discussed everything from formatting to trad versus indie versus hybrid publishing.

It was the most fun I'd had in a long time.

Writing was such a solitary thing—at least for me—and it was a joy getting to spend those moments with my cousin and her friends.

As I was gathering my things to leave, Lola stepped up next to me. She reminded me of myself in some ways, being the most curious of the group. Case in point…

"Hey Rose, can I ask you another question?" she said.

"Of course," I said.

"Do you believe in love? Like true love?"

"Yes, I do."

"Have you ever been in love?"

"I have."

"Hmmm. Must be with the person who gave you that."

"Huh?" I asked then saw her gaze pinned on my ring. I was rubbing the stones but stopped when I realized what I was doing. "This was a present from my best friend, Finn."

Lola nodded. "And you're in love with him."

My throat suddenly went dry. "Uh…how do you know?"

"Something about the way your eyes brightened when you talked about him."

They did?

"He must love you back," she went on, "if he gave you something so beautiful."

"I don't think it works like that," I said.

"Okay, last question, I promise." Lola looked around, making sure no one was within earshot, then said, "Do you think you can write romance even if you've never experienced it?"

I didn't hesitate. "Absolutely."

"Even if you've never been kissed?"

"Even then," I said.

"Even if…you're in love with someone, but the chances of them loving you back is practically nonexistent?"

I looked into her eyes and felt like we shared a deep bond.

One of unrequited love.

Putting my hand on her shoulder, I said, "Yes, one hundred times yes. Just because your love hasn't been returned yet, it doesn't mean you can't write. Actually, some of the best books ever are about unrequited love—which means you and I are in good company."

Lola narrowed her eyes. "Really?"

"Heck yes," I said. "I'll send Maisie a list of my favorites when I get home."

"Thanks, Rose," she said.

As the girls and I finished our talk, we walked to the doors of the library. I was putting my things away, not watching where I was going, so when I heard Freya say, "Wow, who's that?"

"Don't know, but he looks too old to go here," Hazel said.

"Too hot you mean," Lola added. "And that's because he doesn't."

"He is pretty," Scotlyn murmured.

Ana scoffed. "Eyes off, girls. He's taken."

"Of course, he is," Freya sighed.

When I finally looked up, I froze.

"Hey, Rose."

The voice curled around me, and a pleasant shiver shot down my spine.

But it wasn't just the sound that held me captive.

Finn was leaning against the wall outside the library, hands shoved into his pockets, feet crossed at the ankle.

As I watched, he ran a hand through his hair, and I could've sworn the girls around me sighed.

That was completely understandable. And yet, I felt the need to step in.

"Finn," I said, trying to sound stronger than I felt. "I didn't expect to see you here."

"I bet," he said. "You've been avoiding me."

The girls ooh'd and looked between the two of us.

"I haven't—"

Finn silenced me with a look.

"I told you I have to finish my book," I tried again.

"I want that for you. But I also hate not seeing you."

Finn's piercing eyes met mine.

"I miss your face."

My heart tried to escape my chest, pushed right up against my ribs in an attempt to get to him. I was pretty sure I'd melted and was just a puddle at his feet. By the collective sigh surrounding us, I didn't think I was the only one.

"Oh!" Lola suddenly exclaimed. "Finn O'Brien is your Finn."

"Yep," I said, forcing a laugh. "I forgot you two know each other."

Lola's eyes softened in understanding, and I knew, without her saying it, that she wouldn't betray my secret. Maisie's sister was cool, and again, I was glad Ana had such good friends.

Shifting his eyes to her, Finn smiled. "Hey, Lola. You doing alright?"

"Eh, it's high school," she said. "How about you?"

"I've been better."

"I didn't know Rose is your best friend."

"She is," he said, "and I miss her."

"I miss you too, Finn," I said finally remembering we were in a high school and giving these teens all the drama. "But maybe we should take this somewhere else?"

He nodded and pushed off the wall.

As the bell rang, Ana and the others walked away, but before she turned the corner, my cousin lifted her brows and mouthed He misses your face.

We got a few more odd looks, but in minutes, the halls had cleared.

"So," Finn said finally.

"So," I said back. "How'd you know I was here?"

"You told me about it. Said you were nervous about meeting Ana and the other young writers. I told you you'd kill it—which by the way, I'm guessing you did, considering the looks of hero-worship they were throwing your way."

"From what I heard, I'm pretty sure they were staring at you and your gorgeousness."

He rolled his eyes.

"I'm sorry," I said and sighed.

"For what?"

"For avoiding you."

His light gray eyes flashed. "So, you admit it?"

I nodded.

"But why?" Finn stepped forward, coming closer until he was all I could see. His eyes were full of concern and hurt. "What did I do?"

Licked me so good I saw stars.

Went down on me until I woke up moaning.

Plastered yourself so firmly into my head and heart that I honestly don't know what to do with myself.

"Rose?"

"You didn't do anything per se." Quietly, after a moment, I added, "I had a dream."

Finn blinked. "A dream? Of what? Me?"

I nodded once.

"What was I doing?"

My cheeks went scarlet, hotter than the sun. "I…don't want to say."

"Rose, come on. It can't be that bad," he said.

"It wasn't bad," I said. "Dream Finn was good. Very good."

His face was blank for a moment, but slowly, he started to smile.

"You had a sex dream," he said.

I looked away.

"Of me."

A sigh.

"Of us, together. And I was good."

I nodded.

"Okay then."

"Listen, I'm sorry, okay?" I said, crossing my arms, avoiding his stare.

"I know it's wrong, but I can't control my dreams. And I know it makes me a terrible person, but I couldn't stop thinking about it.

I didn't want it to be awkward between us which is one of the main reasons I avoided you. But yeah, I'm sorry for the dream."

When I finally forced myself to look at Finn, he was smiling.

"Don't be sorry," he said.

He shook his head as I opened my mouth to respond.

"I have those dreams too."

"You do?"

"All the time."

"Finn, I don't think you understand. This was naughty."

He nodded. "How naughty?"

My cheeks went even hotter. "Extremely."

"Like you said, it's not like we can control our dreams. Right?"

"Right," I said.

"Nothing to be embarrassed about." Finn gently chucked me under then chin. "It happens."

"Yeah, okay," I said sarcastically and bopped his nose in retaliation.

"So, Dream Finn was good, huh?"

I groaned. "Seriously? Are we still talking about this?"

"I want more details."

"Tough. You're not getting them, O'Brien."

"Come on," Finn said.

"No," I said back.

"Fine. But don't avoid me again, especially not for something so normal. Okay?"

I smiled. "I won't."

"Oh, and Rose?" he said.

"Yeah?"

Finn waited until I turned to him. "I know exactly what kind of dreams you're talking about. The things I've done to you in mine, the positions I've taken you in, the filthy things I've said, they'd get me thrown out of this school."

I swallowed.

"So, never be embarrassed. I'm not. And remember." Finn ran his hand along my cheek in the most tempting caress. "The dreams I have of you are my favorite."