A second after I recite my number, my phone blips with an incoming text.What the—Above the unfamiliar number and message preview readingIt’s Ryan, the airplane symbol is missing from the corner of the screen. Oops.
“You’re supposed to turn that off,” Ryan says. His voice is deep, barely above a whisper, and it slinks up the sides of my neck.
I tamp down the shivery sensation as we both tap our screens offline.
“So whatdidyou study?” I ask, unable to stop my curiosity, even about Ryan.
He hesitates. “Creative writing,” he says finally.
I suppress a smirk. I guess that’s how he and Daniel became acquainted—two Guy in Your MFAs sadboying all over each other. “What’s the deal, then—those who can’t do, publicize?”
He stares at the back of the seat before him. “Something like that.”
I catch the tension in his tone and guilt gnaws at me for how glibly I phrased my question. I pivot toward conciliatory. “It’s not easy.”
“What?” he asks over the roar of air pressure as the plane ascends.
“Writing,” I say. “I remember thinking,How hard can this be?But turns out—really hard.”
Writing a book hadn’t been on my radar until Nadia suggested it as a way to broaden my brand, but as soon as she did, ideas flooded my mind. I was confident I could pull it off—challenging tasks have never scared me away—and was so excited to distill the messaging fromSo Proud of Youinto a new format, offer a different audience a way to access it, that I stayed up all night putting the proposal together. We started shopping it the following week.When it came time to write the actual manuscript, though, it wasn’t quite so smooth. I’d envisioned pulling more from my podcast transcripts and social posts, editing and recasting them as needed to fit within the framework of the larger narrative, but I wound up feeling like I was working from the ground up rather than the top down. Hitting walls in every direction. The first draft felt like a beast that took every ounce of my brainpower to tame.
“Well, seems like you got the hang of it,” he says.
I tend to get the hang of things. Bust your ass 24/7 your whole life and that can happen. But if I had a dollar for every comment I’ve entertained about the effortlessness of my achievements, I could buy the airplane we’re flying in. “Doesn’t mean it was easy,” I mutter.
His eyes find mine. “I didn’t mean to imply that it was. Writing is brain-busting, no matter how capable the person doing it.”
Wait. Did he just…express compunction? I didn’t know men were capable of doing that. In my experience, they only double down when you refute them.
“A contract and deadlines provide prime inspiration,” I say.
That trace of a smile tics on his lips and, fuck me, something happens in my belly—like a guitar string being plucked. “Something tells me you’re in no need of a muse.”
“What does that mean?”
He shrugs. “Just that you seem very driven.”
Credit to him for the euphemism.Drivenhas other implications, and I’ve been called every barbarous word out there. “I get it,” I say. “Overbearing type-A ballbuster, steamrolls her way into places she has no business—”
“No,” he says. “Drive is an admirable quality. It can take a person further than talent or skill.” He pauses for a moment. “I guess that’s why it’s calleddrive.”
I gasp. “Ew, was that the daddest dad joke of all time?”
He cringes. “Unintentionally, yes?”
I don’t know anything about his personal life, but I could have sworn he doesn’t have children. There’s no ring on his finger, not that that’s a prerequisite. “You better keep those gems to yourself, Grant. You do not need to be handing me ammo on a silver platter.”
He nods, his lips pressed together. “Noted.”
My eyes can’t help roaming over his jaw, his cheekbones, the line of his shadowed neck. His dark hair is thick. It would be easy to imagine the feel of it between one’s fingers. So easy.
Ifone were to imagine it. Which I’m not.
If there is one redeeming aspect of the Storm Cloud coming on tour, it’s that he is…not hard to look at. Hardnotto look at. At least these next two weeks will be adorned with some nice eye candy, which will incite zero complaints from me.
It’s also not lost on me that he sort of paid me a compliment. Good to know he’s committing to the cheerleading aspect of the gig.
When the light on the console indicates we’re at cruising altitude, I lower my tray table and open my laptop.Entertainment Weeklyis running a feature about me online next week, and I want to get a jump on their interview questions.
