Unwanted Girl. MK Schiller

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СКАЧАТЬ hadn’t quantified it. To him, friendship was something natural that progressed without definition, but she needed reassurance. “Without a doubt. Why do you like the song?”

      “I can feel the words. Do you understand?”

      “I follow.”

      Her voice lowered to a whisper. “This has to be one of the most crowded places you can live. It’s exciting, exuberant, and exhausting. It’s easy to get lost, in every sense of the word.”

      “You’re right, but it’s also one of the few places where a guy like me and a girl like you can break bread and converse. What made you ask to come in last night?”

      “You seemed nice. I’m not usually this forward.”

      “I know.” He arched his brow. “It took you a year to talk to me. At least about anything more than the weather.”

      “You could have talked to me, too. Why didn’t you?”

      “I’m not really sure.”

      “We wasted time, didn’t we?”

      “Not really. I wasn’t the same person. I’m glad we stuck to weather reports. Anyway, besides being a teacher, what else?”

      “What else what?”

      “What else do you dream of?” She lowered her head. He leaned forward. “You can tell me.”

      “It’s silly. You’ll laugh.”

      “Your dreams are safe with me, Shyla.” Nick expected her to answer with future forecasts, including marriage outlooks and the number of children she’d have.

      “I’d like to write a book.”

      Nick crushed the juice box in his hand. “You’re kidding, right?” he asked with a slight annoyance.

      She narrowed her eyes. “Why do you say it like that?”

      “Everyone is thinking about writing a book.”

      She played with the plastic wrapping of her sandwich, smoothing it out against the table. “You must hear it a great deal in your line of work.”

      “I’ve heard it three times this week so it’s a little under quota, but yeah. What’s your book about?”

      “It’s a love story.”

      He laughed. “That figures.”

      “What do you mean?”

      “You said it was your favorite.”

      She narrowed her eyes, her lips pursed. Nick cursed himself…not just for pissing her off, but because her angry look turned him on. “It’s not glamorous or even particularly pretty. It’s definitely not cliché if that’s what you’re implying.”

      “I’m sorry. I can be an assuming ass sometimes.”

      “It’s not a love story in the traditional sense. It touches on some heavy ideas.”

      “Like what?”

      “Female gendercide, for one.”

      Nick almost choked on his sandwich. “Female gendercide? As in the act of systematically killing female babies?”

      “Yes.”

      “Sounds like a real feel-good kind of book.”

      “I know you’re being sarcastic, but ironically it is.”

      “What do you know about the subject, Shyla?”

      “I’ve read and heard stories.”

      “So basically you know nothing.”

      She shook her head slowly, her long lashes fluttering over her chocolate brown eyes.

      “One of the most important rules in writing is to write what you know.”

      Something he said must have resonated with her, but not in a good way. She stiffened before she leveled her head, squared her shoulders, and met his eyes. “What experiences do you have with the Russian mob, Nick?”

      “Excuse me?”

      “Well, if I recall correctly, and I think I do, in the Max Montero book I read, he infiltrated the Russian mob. I suspect you have some real world experiences in that area since you’re all about”—she paused dramatically, fingers in air quotes—“‘write what you know.’”

      The girl had gotten him. He bowed slightly, conceding to her argument. “Touché.”

      “You asked me my dream, and that’s one of the big ones. I have this crazy urge to write it. Like if I don’t, I’ll combust.”

      Nick understood better than anyone what she described. As a writer, when he came up with a story, it wouldn’t leave him alone until he put it to paper. Unfortunately, he had no more stories to tell.

      “How did you come up with the idea?”

      “I, too, have a character that speaks to me.”

      Nick fetched a yellow legal pad and his favorite cross-pen from his writing desk. “What’s the story?”

      “I don’t have it all worked out yet.”

      “Tell me what you have.”

      “Now?” she asked, looking around the room, as if someone else might answer her question.

      “No time like the present.”

      She yawned again.

      “Unless you’re too tired,” Nick added.

      “I’ll be fine.”

      “Would you like coffee?”

      “I brought some.”

      “You brought your own coffee?”

      “I always carry it with me.”

      To his horror, she reached into her knapsack and pulled out a familiar plastic jar. Nick’s gut clenched in revolt. He tilted his head, trying to keep his expression stern, but failing. “You insult me by bringing freeze-dried, instant coffee into my house.”

      “I only need water, and I can make it anywhere. It’s convenient.”

      He picked up the jar and chucked it behind him. It landed perfectly into the trashcan by his writing desk. “It’s crap. If there’s one thing I can teach you, it’s this. Not all coffee is created equal. I’ll make you a real cup.”

      Her mouth gaped, but before she could respond, he took her hand and led her into the kitchen. A part of him regretted the action because he understood her decisions СКАЧАТЬ