Six thousandfour hundred and thirty-two. So I’d written over six thousand words today.
No wonder my fingers were trembling as I opened the door. I’ddefinitelyearned a break.
The first thing I noticed was Kieran’s warm, familiar smile, artfully tousled hair, and open button-down over that same peach muscle shirt he’d been wearing under his hoodie on Saturday, the neckline just low enough to highlight the beautifully-defined angles of his collarbones.
Then I noticed the box in his hands.
“I wouldn’t normally do this,” Kieran said, looking me up and down. “But could I get you to sign my book?”
I looked down into the open box to see…
Every book I’d released. All five.
How was he soperfect? What had I done to deserve this perfect, supportive friend who kept doing ridiculously sweet things?
And looked incredible naked.
I’d been so careful not to think about that, but Kieran’s collarbones reminded me of all the other things I’d been able to see earlier.
Not that I’d reallylooked.
Much.
“I’ll sign them inbloodif you want,” I said.
Kieran wrinkled his nose.
“Uh. Blood’s umm. A thing. In the books. I get requests sometimes, I have a red marker that looks like blood when it dries.” I paused, scratching the back of my head. “You should come inside.”
Kieran chuckled, slipping past me, smelling of… limes and sea salt and something sweet and spicy I couldn’t identify.
“But you’d sign mine in actual blood, right?” Kieran said.
“I think you’ve dealt with enough of my blood for a lifetime,” I said. I never did get the hang of riding a bike, but Kieran had always been there to help me up and pull me into a hug and tell me it was okay when I’d fallen off.
Even if he ended up covered in blood and tears.
“Yeah, but imagine the collector’s value,” he teased. “Only I could never sell them, ‘cause they’re yours.”
How was he so sweet?How? If I’d written him specifically for myself, he couldn’t have beenthisgood. I didn’t have the imagination.
“You could’ve asked, I could’ve gotten you copies,” I said. “When did you get these?”
“That day at lunch,” Kieran said.
Right. I remembered him doing something on his phone, but I hadn’t imagined it was ordering my entire backlist.
“Helps you out if I just buy ‘em normally, right?” he asked, suddenly unsure.
“Well. Yeah, but…”
Kieran’s whole face lit up. “That’s what friends are for. Pretty sure friends buy friends’ books.”
“I…”
I hadauthorfriends who did that, and a stack of unread books I’d bought out of support—I’d get to them someday—but…
Well, Kieran was really the only regular friend I had. And I just got him back.
