The Boy Who Has No Hope (Soulless 6)

I never got that compliment because I hardly ever smiled.

She wrapped her burger in the napkin and took a bite, a drop of sauce getting in the corner of her mouth just like last time.

I didn’t point it out to her.

“I saw that you wrote three thousand words on Saturday. That’s amazing.”

I opened my container and ate a fry.

“How did that feel?”

“Good.”

“You wrote some very good pages, so I could tell you were really into it.”

“Yeah, I was.”

“At this rate, you’re going to be finished in…” She considered the time frame in her head as she ate another fry. “About a week. That’s so exciting. I’ll call Astra Books tomorrow and tell them the good news.”

I had a feeling they would still be annoyed, since I was still six months late from the initial deadline they’d given me.

“Then we’ll get started on the next book.”

“The next book?” I asked incredulously.

“It’s a series. There’s no way you can wrap up the story in the next fifty pages.”

“But we have to get to work right away?”

“Why wouldn’t you? You know how happy your fans will be if they don’t have to wait years for every sequel? And besides, you’ve gotten into the flow of writing again, so would you really want to stop?”

I considered all of her points valid. “I felt like we really churned this book out, and I guess I don’t want to have the same pressure again.”

“If you write five thousand words a week, you wouldn’t have to worry about that. And you can do five thousand words so easily. You’re getting so good at this. I guess you don’t need me to come over in the evenings anymore. I bet I could donate that whiteboard to someone.”

“It would be nice to give you that time off.” Now that I’d gotten back into the driver’s seat, I had control over my writing, knew exactly how I wanted this story to progress. I didn’t need to jog my memory or spend a lot of time thinking.

“Yeah, but I honestly never minded those writing sessions.” She took another bite of her burger.

The reason I’d stayed late was because I had stuff to work on, but now that we sat together and had dinner, all those things faded into the background. I was far more interested in her than anything else. “Did you have a good weekend? We’ve been so busy, I haven’t had a chance to ask yet this week.”

“Yes. I love sleeping in, so Saturdays and Sundays are my favorite.”

“I can’t imagine you doing that.” She never slacked off, hardly took breaks, and she was always juggling three things at once. I expected her to rise early just to take care of stuff around her apartment.

“Oh, I love to sleep. I spend those days catching up.” She continued to eat, dunking her fries in her ketchup before picking up her burger again and taking another bite. Whenever we took breaks together, she slackened her posture and relaxed around me, like she was just as comfortable around me as I was around her.

I’d never been that way with any other coworker, not even Jerome and Pierre. It was ironic, because she didn’t understand my work at all, so we never discussed it, but that didn’t stop me from feeling close to her. “Have any dates lately?” I didn’t know why I allowed the question to leave my lips, when it was none of my business, and her answer would probably make my stomach tighten.

“No, not lately.” She kept eating, as if the question about her personal life didn’t offend her. “I’ve been so busy that it hasn’t really crossed my mind. My dad is having his surgery next week, so we’ve been preparing for that.”

Relief filled my throat and dripped all the way down to my stomach. When I saw her on her date, it initially aroused me, but when I played that same scene in my head now…it made me a little nauseated. “On his knee, right?”

She nodded. “Yep. We’re all very excited about it.”

“I’m not sure who you’re seeing, but I can make sure he gets the best physician possible.”

She smiled. “That’s very sweet, Derek, but he’ll be fine. It’s a very simple procedure. It’s a small problem that’s just gotten out of hand over the years. I’m not worried about it. I’m so happy that we’re finally doing something about his situation. There’s always the chance that a surgery could make the problem worse, but since he’s already so sedentary, I feel like the benefits outweigh the risks astronomically. It pains me to say it, but he’s far more likely to die indirectly from his knee if it never improves, because he’s so inactive. We need to get him moving around again.”

I nodded. “You’re absolutely right.”

“And I’m very close to my parents, so I need them to live as long as possible—even though they drive me crazy sometimes.”