“Thank you for coming,” Clementine says, and she sounds so professional that it makes me want to be her all the more. She’s pretty, she’s confident, she’s talented, and the huge rock on her left hand suggests she’s got all her romantic shit figured out. I know from her posts on social media that she’s got a hot husband and two adorable kids, and I bet she’s never had her heart twisted up by a girl she’d become too afraid to call.
Thirty-six hours later, I still haven’t spoken to Jasmine. I can’t. I’m back to feeling like it was all in my head, like I’ve gone ahead and come out to my friends, and for what? What if she’s changed her mind since the night of the dance? What if she’s mad I didn’t go after her? What if she thinks I’m still with Chase?
Part of me is so angry we didn’t have this conversation back when we were exchanging heart emojis, letting a tiny little picture in a text thread mask everything we had to say to each other, everything we felt. I wouldn’t have had to hurt Chase; I wouldn’t have had to keep secrets from everyone…
But, if that hadn’t all happened, would I ever have been able to get here?
And where exactly is here, anyway?
I just want to see her. When she’d first mentioned coming to this event, I was horrified at the thought of her showing up, but… I can’t help wishing she had. These books were something I’d shared with her, something she knew mattered deeply to me. Hell, these books were directly responsible for making sure that night by the bonfire wasn’t a one-time thing.
I really want to share this with her.
There’s more applause, and I realize Clementine’s done with her reading, and I quickly join in the clapping. After, Beth takes questions, and I force myself to clear my head and listen, knowing I’ll regret it if I miss out on her wisdom.
“Where does the inspiration for your work come from?” asks a woman in a green sweater, twisting a long strand of pearls around her fingers.
“Pretty much everywhere,” Clementine says with a smile. “This story in particular was inspired by a similar mishap on one of my vacations. Another woman took my suitcase by accident, and it made me wonder what it would be like to stumble into someone else’s life when you’re most in need of a change. Everything kind of spun off from there.”
Green Sweater looks satisfied, and Beth takes the mic from her and hands it to a woman in a sleeveless denim shirt whose chunky rings flash in the light.
“How does your husband feel about you writing romance, specifically explicit sex scenes? Not that I’m complaining.”
“Well, neither is he,” Clementine says with a wink, and everyone laughs and applauds.
That’s when I hear it—the familiar jingle of bangle bracelets. I crane my neck and sure enough, there’s Jasmine, casual and beautiful in a soft pink sweater and jeans, her dark waves cascading over her shoulders.
She’s here.
She’s here without knowing how I feel. She’s here without knowing if I’m still with Chase. She’s here without knowing if I want to be friends or girlfriends or kick her out of my life completely. She’s here and she’s beautiful and she’s so fucking brave, braver than I’ve ever been.
My hand flies into the air.
“Yes! The barista!” Clementine Walker says. “You have a question?”
“I do.” My voice is shaking so badly and it’s awful and embarrassing and forces me to take a deep breath as the whole room turns their eyes on me while Beth brings me the mic. “Do you ever… I mean, have you ever…” Another breath, and this time, I meet Jasmine’s quizzical gaze, watch the way her teeth gently tug at her lip, and I steady. “Has the love interest ever turned out to be someone other than who you originally planned? Because I’m writing a book, and I had this great couple all planned out, but I can’t seem to get my main character as interested in him as she is in her roommate.”
Clementine smiles knowingly. “That’s the thing about characters—you think you’re in control, but even though they’re fictional people, they tend to have theirown minds. I think of it as the most amazing blessing when my characters tell me what they want, even if it involves a whole lot more editing than I planned! Did you know inThe One That I Haunt, Zach’s brother Tate was actually supposed to be the love interest? But once I realized that Zach and Angie’s bond over their cats was going to be an unbreakable one, I changed paths, even though I was halfway through the draft and two weeks away from deadline.”
There are gasps, and you just know they’re all from empathetic writers.
“I know, right?” says Clementine, and she’s chuckling as she wipes her forehead in a mock show of cleaning the sweat off her brow. “I can’t believe I did it either. But just because you’re telling a good story doesn’t mean it’s therightstory. And I think it’s really important to tell the right story.” She looks right at me and answers so brightly that it’s clear she can’t tell my world happens to be turning upside down at that moment. “It sounds to me like the roommate is a relationship worth exploring.”
“Yeah,” I say slowly, picking out Jasmine in the crowd. “I’m pretty sure the roommate is my story.”
I offer her a slight smile.
She offers one back.
And then we wait.
The event I’d been anticipating for weeks suddenly feels interminable, and when it’s done, Jasmine takes her time making her way over, looking almost scared of what she’ll encounter when she finally reaches the counter. “You’re writing again,” she says by way of greeting.
“I am. I got inspired, I guess.”
Her smile is quick, and then she’s playing with her fingers in a nervous way I’ve never seen from her. “Listen, Lara, I’m sorry for springing all of that on you at Homecoming. That wasn’t the right way to talk about… any of this. I can’t blame you for not reaching out afterward.”
“I couldn’t,” I tell her.
