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I shake off the negative thoughts and remind myself that I can’t let one failure define my career. As my sister always says, “You just gotta make sure you fail forward.”
Easier said than done.
I’ve had writer’s block for nearly a month, and if I don’t come up with a brilliant story idea soon, my bank account is gonna take a serious hit.
I take a deep breath and remind myself that every writer goes through periods of creative struggle, but I’m desperate for some inspiration—some spark to ignite my creativity.
Perhaps the coffee shop will do the trick.
The scent of freshly-brewed espresso immediately overwhelms me as I step inside the local coffee shop. I take a deep breath, thankful to escape the chilly autumn air outside. As I make my way to the counter, I’m surprised to see there’s a bit of a line this morning. I guess people are finally catching on to the fact that the coffee beans they use here are the most caffeinated in town.
And I’m gonna need all the help I can get to work through this writer’s block.
I delicately balance my notebook and pen in my left hand while pulling out my debit card with my right.
Oops.
My lucky pen drops to the coffee shop floor. I reach for it, but a hand beats me to it. I look up, startled by the face in front of me.
“Here.” A tall, unusually handsome man—much too handsome for middle-of-nowhere Arkansas—is holding my sparkly pen in the middle of his outstretched hand.
“Uh,” I mumble, his stunning hazel eyes have me hypnotized. “Thanks,” I finally manage to say as I grab my pen.
I’m completely transfixed by his brown, slightly disheveled hair. I swear this man must have walked right out of my dreams…
…and into a coffee shop in Arkansas.
He also looks familiar, but I can’t place him. Maybe he’s a Calvin Klein model?
“You’re welcome,” he says in a deep Texan accent, which I can barely make out over the sound of Taylor Swift blasting in my earbuds. I knew he wasn’t from around here. “What’re you listenin’ to?”
My mouth hangs open, and I’m certain I look like an idiot as I stare up at this guy—unable to recall any words at the moment. I remove one of my earbuds so I can process what’s happening.
Should I tell him the truth about what I’m listening to? Or is there something sexier than Taylor Swift?
No, Taylor Swift is sexy.
“Just, um, uh,” I mutter, again.
“Um” and “uh” are not sexy.
“All right, well,” he says, chuckling in a way that makes my stomach flip, “I guess I’ve never heard of them before. Also,” he says, pointing to the barista at the register, “he’s waiting on you to order.”
Shoot.
“Right, of course.” My cheeks turn bright red as I spin around.
“What can I get for you, Callie?” Nathan asks, giving me a knowing, sympathetic look. He’s a sweet, young college kid who knows my coffee order by heart—so I’m pretty sure he’s trying to give me an out right now so I don’t continue to embarrass myself. Though, I’m doing my best to ignore the fact he just witnessed me acting like a blubbering idiot.
“I’ll have an iced vanilla latte,” I order because in spite of this morning’s crisp fall weather, I’m a year-round iced coffee drinker. My heart starts pounding out of my chest at the realization the guy behind me is still there. Not that he shouldn’t be there—we’re in line at a coffee shop, after all.
“Great! Iced vanilla latte comin’ right up!” He writes my name on my cup. “How’s the writer’s block comin’?” Nathan asks. “Last week you mentioned you ain’t been able to write much at all in over a month. Any luck?”
“Sadly, it’s not been any better,” I answer, and it’s not gonna get any better with the ruggedly handsome guy behind me either. I’m completely lost for words at this point.
“I’ll get it,” the man’s deep voice chimes from behind me, “and I’ll just have a plain coffee—dark roast.” He steps beside me, handing over his card.
“All right,” Nathan replies, swiping it.
