AARON
Minji’s gotme walking a tightrope, fully aware of my precarious position. Sure, I claimed she wasn’t my type, but what the hell do I know anymore? Less than forty-eight hours in her orbit, and something inside me keeps realigning whenever she’s near. The way she maintains that icy façade just makes me want to crack it all the more.
I caught her red-handed with my audiobook—chapter fourteen, for crying out loud. The chapter where clothes come off and inhibitions follow. Her expression said it all: flushed cheeks, lips slightly parted, eyes wide with that caught-in-the-act look. She wasn’t just hearing words. She waslivingthem. Seeing her like that brought back memories of her in my dorm room, on my bed, wanting something yet doing everything in her power to deny it. Minji’s walls were immovable but her body, even a decade ago, was honest to the bone.
I can’t help smiling as I make my way to Joe’s on Waverly. Not saying I’m one step closer to getting her to let her walls down, but I think I am. She is listening to my audiobooks, so that means something… right? Joe’s is buzzing by the time I get there. The place hums with its typical afternoon energy—students typing away, suits having casual meetings, touristsconsulting their city guides. Coffee in hand, I settle at a corner table by the window and open my laptop.
My phone buzzes before I can start reviewing my manuscript.
Tabitha
Please tell me you are done with the second draft. The publisher is getting antsy.
I sigh.
Me
Coming along. I need more time.
Tabitha
More time? You’re going on your book tour next month. I thought you only needed to flesh out the characters. Change minor things. Please don’t tell me you are about to rewrite the entire damn book again. We do NOT have time for that.
Tabitha is a great agent, and I love her to death, but she doesn’t quite get that I can’t just force myself to write a damn love story. Forcing it will only produce shit. The authenticity would be gone, and readers can always tell. They’d see right through it in a heartbeat. At least my readers will. They hold nothing back when giving their honest reviews.
Thunder cracks outside, and I glance up to see the sky has turned the color of a bruise—New York weather is always tricky. Rain slashes against the windows while pedestrians scatter below, a scene straight out of page thirty-seven in my last novel. I catch myself wondering about Minji. Does she carry one of those compact umbrellas in her designer handbag? Or maybeshe has a weather app with notifications enabled. Knowing her, she’s prepared for every contingency.
Before I can talk myself out of it, I type a message:
Me
Ch 20 is nothing compared to what happens in real life when you let yourself feel something. The dinner offer still stands.
The rain pounds harder against the glass, turning the world outside into a watery blur.
My phone buzzes. I snatch it up, pulse quickening—then deflate when I see Grayson’s name.
Grayson
Bar crawl tonight?
Me
Deadline. Rain check.
Grayson
Come on. Even Axel’s making an appearance.
I pause. Axel. Our fellow orphanage brother, who’s barely surfaced since his graphic novel empire exploded.
Me
Two hours. That’s all you get.
Another buzz makes my fingers fumble.
Honeybee
