Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 79040 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 395(@200wpm)___ 316(@250wpm)___ 263(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79040 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 395(@200wpm)___ 316(@250wpm)___ 263(@300wpm)
I was secretly rooting for Jameson when I saw he took his new friends in stride. He has been treating them all like family down there, as far as I can tell, and the little prank fell flat. If anything, he seems happier to have the company.
I was honestly pretty pissed when they told me what they’d done. Pranking Vaughn felt at least sort of right because he crossed so many lines. Jameson still feels like he is more good than bad. Yes, I got scared about committing to a guy when I knew he was capable of lying to me. But I don’t have that same burning hatred toward him I had toward Vaughn.
I won’t admit it, mostly because my friends would lose their minds, but I miss him. I really miss him.
“He’s so cute down there,” Gemmaline says, joining me at the window. “I love how he just made friends with all the homeless people. You can tell a lot about someone by how they treat people with less than them.”
I completely agree with her, even though I don’t voice it. Roxie and Dani have been borderline overbearing since I broke things off with Jameson. I think they’d put me in a cage if they thought it would keep me safe.
Right now, Jameson is sharing bagels he brought with the half dozen or so people gathered around the bus stop bench.
I’ve spent more time than I’d like to admit watching him from my window on the third floor, especially ever since he started the whole book reading thing. What the hell is he doing down there? Every day is the same thing.
Jameson walks up with a huge, heavy bag. He sits somewhere and eventually pulls out a book. He sits there and reads, glancing up every page or so toward my building, as if expecting me to emerge at any moment.
At first, he was by himself. After Roxie and Dani’s little stunt, things in front of my building have grown more chaotic by the day as the number of people grows.
“I just want to know what he’s doing,” I say.
“Waiting,” Gemmaline says. “It’s one thing to text and say you’re sorry. But he has been out there rain or shine for over two weeks now, just waiting for you. It’s so freaking romantic.”
I know it’s only a matter of time before I go down there and confront him. If it weren’t for Roxie and Dani, I’m sure I would’ve already gone down there to at least hear him out.
Yes, I’m still pissed at him. I don’t even know where an apology would lead. Maybe it would just be salve over the wound he left, but we’d go our separate ways. Maybe it would lead to us in a bed together. I really can’t say, because Jameson left behind a complicated tangle of emotions I haven’t been able to peel apart.
I’ve also been busy on two fronts, because I’ve been learning first hand how becoming an author is unfortunately about more than just writing a book. It also involves the messy business of getting it out into the world and into people’s hands–a skill that unfortunately has very little to do with writing. It’s like I have to be a good writer and a good marketer, businesswoman, publicist, social media guru, and designer.
It sounds stupid now, but I think part of me just imagined I’d finish the book and the perfect landing spot for it would magically appear out of thin air. The first people to read it would be absolutely blown away and beg me to sign a contract with them. I could skip all the other necessary skills in publishing because someone would see my potential and do it all for me.
Technically, that did happen. Jameson Wolfe read a couple chapters of my manuscript almost two months ago and tried to sign me on the spot. The catch is I think he only cared about pissing off Vaughn Vanderlesh. For all I know, he only said my book was good because he knew he could piss off his rival by publishing it. It’s a sour thought, and not one I’m sure I entirely believe. Jameson may have lied to me, but I confusingly still can’t make myself believe he lied about that. He only lied to help his friend and his business. It wasn’t malicious. It was just… him choosing work over me, I guess.
Outside of the book stuff, I’ve had to admit it may all take longer than I like. That’s why I now work forty hours a week at a coffee shop, which is doing little more than prolonging my plunge into poverty.
Going back and begging Jameson or Nolan to publish my book would’ve been the easy path. It probably would’ve been the smart path. But I’ve been too stubborn. I want to earn this. I don’t want it handed to me on a silver platter just because Jameson wants my forgiveness, which is probably what would happen if I asked.