Page 9 of Unscripted with Mila

She stood, leaning over to kiss my cheek. “Right. You’ll write for hours, grab a snack and a swim, then write again until dawn.”

“That’s what I said.”

She was laughing as she left the room.

* * *

A knock at the door of the suite startled me, and I looked up with a grimace. A glance at my phone told me I had been lost for over four hours. My word count had grown significantly.

I went to the door, not surprised to see a room service trolley.

“Hello.” I smiled in greeting.

The young man on the other side of the door grinned. “Compliments of Andi Reacher. She left instructions if we hadn’t heard from you by nine to send this up.”

I had to laugh. Andi knew me well. I waved my hand, and he rolled in the cart, setting the tray on the empty dining table.

Luckily, I had some money in my pocket, and I tipped him, lifting the lid after he departed. The plate contained various cheeses and crackers, some fruit and nuts, and there was a sandwich on a separate plate, beautifully arranged. The filling made me laugh.

Peanut butter and jam.

I picked up a triangle and nibbled at it, glancing toward my laptop, the pull strong. I lifted the tray and headed back to the desk and sat down. I wanted to finish this scene, then I would be done for the night.

Time passed quickly, and when I saved my work, I was almost eight thousand words further ahead than I had planned to be. This boded well for the trip. I had eaten the sandwich, nibbled some fruit and cheese, but most of the larger plate was still full. I put the lid back on it and slid it into the fridge the suite came with. I wandered out to the balcony, inhaling the warm night air. It was so different from home. The sounds were foreign to my ears. The steady hum of traffic in the distance, the scents around me unusual. I wondered what my parents were doing. I had let them know that I arrived and all was good, and Dad had mentioned they might have plans that night but hadn’t decided. I could picture them on their deck, looking at the water, or sitting with their group at the Hub, sharing Chinese food or a barbecue. I felt a little pang of homesickness, then I shook my head. This was an adventure, and I needed to enjoy it.

I rolled my neck and shoulders, feeling the stiffness from sitting so long and typing. Below me, the pool was still, and I knew it closed at nine. But Andi had told me there was a second, adults-only pool farther back on the grounds, and it was open until midnight. I had my passkey, and the thought of swimming and getting the kinks out was tempting. I could see only a few people walking around, and they all looked as if they were headed to their rooms, not the pool.

Inside, I checked the map, changed into my suit, and put a long cover-up over it. Passkey in hand, I headed in the direction of the pool, stopping the same room-service guy, who pointed me in the right direction. “You’ll see the gate,” he instructed. “You’ll probably be the only one there. The hotel is booked for a movie crew, and most of them haven’t arrived. They rarely use the pool anyway. Far too busy.”

“Oh, how interesting,” I muttered and headed in the right direction. I found the pool, hidden away, the path lit by solar lights, the trees overhanging the way stirring only slightly in the light breeze. I opened the gate, pleased to see he had been right and I was the only one there. The pool was long, perfect for laps. The one side was canopied in low-hanging trees, casting shadows in the corners, the faint lights flickering on the water’s reflections.

I pulled off my cover-up, secured my hair clip, and got in, sighing at the feel of the water. Cool enough to be invigorating, but warm enough not to jolt me as I slipped under the surface. I began to swim, all other thoughts escaping my head as I did lap after lap. Finally, I stopped, heading toward the darkened corner. There were steps there, and I sat down, enjoying the silence, the feel of the water, and the breeze on my shoulders.

Then I felt it. I wasn’t as alone as I thought. I could sense someone else was nearby. Watching in silence. A nervous tremor passed through me, and I looked around, my gaze finding the form of a person sitting across the pool from me, submerged in the water, the glow of a cigar hanging from his fingers a bright spot in the dimness.

He lifted a hand in greeting. “Hello.”

I recognized his voice immediately.

Nicholas Scott was sitting across from me.

“Didn’t mean to startle you. I came in while you were swimming,” he said. “You must do that a lot.”

“Do that?” I repeated, my voice almost husky.

“Swim. You’re like a little fish.”

“Oh. Yes. My dad says that all the time.” Then I grimaced. My dad. I sounded about thirteen.

I felt about thirteen. Tongue-tied and standing in front of a boy at school I had a crush on—unable to talk. If Sammy were here, she’d glide through the water, introduce herself, and carry on a proper conversation. Charm him.

But I knew that wasn’t going to happen.

He moved, sliding off the step and wading toward me. I swallowed, pushing myself back into the shadows.

What was he doing?

He stopped a few feet away, as if he sensed my unease. “So, you like to swim.”