“You’re overgeneralizing,” he says. “What aboutHarry PotterorHunger Games? They’re written by women. Face it, Lettie, you’re wrong about this.”
“You’re so arrogant.” I stare at him in disbelief. “To think I was beginning to almost like you. You’re just a snob.” Liam flinches but in my fury I go on. “Turns out you’re exactly the jerk I thought you were.”
He’s quiet for a moment.
“Let’s go.” He marches ahead of me to the exit, his coat fluttering like Darth Vader’s cape.
Several people try to approach us as we cross the small foyer leading to the grand staircase. But Liam has such a fine-tuned death glare that one look and the approaching person backs off. Even his aunt does not dare approach us. If I weren’t seething, I’d find his ability to repel party talk with one quelling glance admirable.
We silently exit the mansion and wait for the valet to bring his car. I’m furious, angry at Liam for making such a fuss, blowing everything out of proportion with this dramatic departure; but even more angry at myself for letting a little argument run amok.
The small space in the car ripples with our combined anger, like the air in Iowa before a tornado. He hits the gas, and his black Jag roars down the street at a dizzying speed. I feel sick with regret and disappointment. I don’t know who I’m more disappointed with, Liam or myself. A part of me wonders if I picked a fight because I was scared of liking him too much. He parks his car on the street outside of my apartment. He turns off the engine.
“Why, Lettie? Why, if you thought I was a jerk, did you go out with me?”
“I was hoping you’d prove me wrong,” I snap back.
“I asked you out because I liked you, I thought ... ” He shakes his head. “It doesn’t matter. I was wrong. You disappoint me.”
Before I realize what is happening, he exits the car and opens my door for me. I step out in a daze. How did the evening disintegrate so fast?
“Forgive me for taking up your night,” he says, standing under the streetlamp in his tux. “Don’t worry. I have no desire to kiss you good night or to ever see you again.”
I’m speechless. Sure, I was rude and let my temper get the best of me. Then again, how dare he be so pretentious and condescending. He gets in his car and revs the engine.You disappoint me.Who says that? As if I care what Liam Darcy thinks of me. But as I watch his taillights disappear into the cold darkness, I realize I do care—far too much.
Stupid men are the only ones worth knowing at all.
—Pride & Prejudice
7
“Hmm... ” Char looks up from her phone, where she’s reading my most recent book. “This Will character reminds me of someone.” She’s lounging on the couch, taking a much-deserved break after being on call. I’m sitting at the kitchen table, nibbling on Twizzlers while I grade freshman essays. It’s May, more than three months since my disastrous date with Liam. And other than writing him as the villain of my book, I hardly ever think of him.
“I swear that wasn’t intentional.” I protest. Char raises a skeptical brow. “I’m serious. I didn’t notice Will’s similarities with Liam until I read my first draft. Then I thought,why not?And I did a revenge revision.” In this version, I made Will just a little more like Liam. In the first draft, he works in construction. In this one, I made him an avocado grower. I changed his brand-new Ferrari to a vintage Porsche. He played water polo in college; I switched his sport to rowing. It was all extremely satisfying.
“Revenge revision.” My roommate cackles. “I love it. But you also might want to revise that scene where Will kisses Lizzy.”
“I love that scene.” In the second chapter, Will Danzie kisses Lizzy Brooks under the mistletoe. And yes, Will might look an awful like Liam Darcy. And yes, maybe I worked out all my misguided attraction to him in that one scene.
“It’s an excellent scene. But don’t you think it’s a problem that your heroine has more chemistry with the villain than the hero?”
“She does not!”
“You keep telling yourself that.” And now, I’m pretty sure Char is talking about more than the book. But I ignore her comment.
“Okay, so besides the Will character, what do you think of the book?”
“It’s your best one yet,” Char beams at me, and I know she means it. My roommate is not one for excessive praise. “Will steals the show, but that’s not a problem. Everyone loves an anti-hero.”
“You’re kidding, right? That guy’s a conceited jerk.”
“Just wait until the reviews come in. You’ll see. But I’m serious, Lettie, you may want to consider changing his name.”
“There’s no way Liam Darcy or anyone he knows will ever read my book.”
“I thought you said your sales are up.”
This is true. My sales have been steadily climbing. So much so that I’ve recently turned in my two weeks’ notice at Bennet Parties.
