Page 15 of The Write Stuff

“She’s asking if you had sex with him,” Bella interjected. “She’s just doing it in a very juvenile manner.”

The fog in my brain cleared. “Of course not. Don’t be ridiculous.”

“I was just asking.” Bree smirked. “It was a very interesting reaction, from both of you.”

“I was a teenager,” I reminded her.

“Unless I’m mistaken, teenagers have sex. That’s one of their favorite things to do.”

“Well, we didn’t.” Just trying to think about something like that happening back then made me want to hyperventilate. It was ridiculous. “He didn’t even know I was alive back then.”

“I was just checking.” Bree held up her hands in supplication.

“It will be fine,” Bella reiterated. “You guys were both shocked. Now you’ll settle, and it won’t be a big deal.”

I hoped beyond hope she was right. Nothing ever felt settled when I was around Huxley Ambrose, however. He’d always done weird things to my insides.

“It will be fine,” I repeated because it seemed to be expected. “It’s not a big deal at all.”

THE REST OF DINNER WENT SMOOTHLY, or as smoothly as it could after our ridiculous reintroduction. We were careful not to make eye contact over the meal, although I swore I felt his gaze on me when I wasn’t looking a few times. That was probably my imagination, I told myself.

The conversation revolved around the reader event and what to expect, so I was fairly calm when it came time to start interacting with the attendees.

I’d been told — on more than one occasion — that I had a natural gift for gab. That was how my mother referred to it anyway. Personally, I didn’t think babbling was a gift, but it always seemed to work out in my favor, for some reason. People found it charming even though, deep down, I knew I was an absolute moron at times.

The readers seemed to like it.

Bree and Bella made sure my station was close to where they were sitting, so if I had questions, they would be close to answer them, or smooth over any potential snafus that might crop up. The men took up stations on the other side of the outdoor space, probably because they wanted to grill Huxley as Bree and Bella had grilled me, but the distance allowed me to breathe and relax.

I enjoyed interacting with fans. I wanted to know what made them tick, what got them excited, and what they saw for the characters when they opened up their imaginations. Bella was more like me. She liked hearing how the readers would have done things differently. Bree was exactly the opposite, though. She groused — and more than once — that if the readers wanted to rewrite the stories, they could write their own damned books.

Normally, somebody like Bree would have intimidated me. She was outspoken to the nth degree and had never met a room she didn’t want to take over. I found her honesty refreshing, however. There was just something about her that I found interesting.

Bella’s temperament fit mine better. She was more soft-spoken and thoughtful, just like me. Unlike me, however, she didn’t get lost in the excitement of a moment. Bree was more like me on that front. Of course, Bree wanted to control the moment. I was more than happy to follow the chaotic river of my thoughts wherever it went.

Two hours into the event, I was ready for a break. There was still an hour left, but I needed a bit of time to myself. I didn’t mind hanging out with a group of people — even a group of people as large as this one — but sometimes it felt overwhelming. I figured 10 minutes of quiet would sustain me until the end of the event.

I walked around the corner of the restaurant, fully prepared to lean against a wall by myself for those10 minutes. Voices brought me up short, however.

The stairs that led into the tavern were high. All of the stairs in Savannah — especially near the River District — were tall, as far as I could tell. Was that because the river flooded regularly? Was it because they were getting away with an old design in their most popular area? It hadn’t escaped my attention that somebody in a wheelchair would have an extremely hard time getting around the River District.

At first, I’d been charmed by all the cobblestones and staircases, especially the ones with the signs that read “use at your own risk.” I’d found them cute and quaint, right up until I realized almost all of the staircases had those signs. There were no flat, angled walkways for wheelchair users either, or people who might have trouble climbing the stairs. Thankfully, that wasn’t me, but not everybody could climb the stairs of death and live to tell the tale.

The stairs outside Poe’s tavern were two-sided. They went up on both sides and met in the middle. I was on one side of those stairs, alone. Somewhere on the other side of the stairs was a group of men. I knew it was all men from the sounds of their voices. They were voices I recognized from dinner.

Brody, Nathan, and Huxley were in the middle of a serious conversation. They couldn’t see me, thankfully, but they weren’t all that far away. The huge steps made it so they couldn’t see me. That was the best luck I’d had all day.

“See, it’s not so bad,” Brody said. He had a softer cadence than Nathan, so it wasn’t difficult to make out who was talking. “She hasn’t even looked at you since that first awkward encounter.”

“And that was really awkward,” Nathan said. “I mean … I was in pain, and it had nothing to do with me.”

“Thanks, Nathan,” Huxley said in a pointed voice. I could practically hear his eye roll. Was it the same eye roll he’d reserved for his mother when we’d been younger? I’d always loved that eye roll for some reason.

Nathan made a sputtering noise. “I’m just saying that it was awkward.”

“We all felt how awkward it was,” Brody said. “Let it go. We’re here to make sure our friend is okay.”

“Why wouldn’t I be okay?” Huxley challenged. “It’s not a big deal. It’s been a long time since we were in each other’s lives.”