The Write Stuff (Write Stuff 1)

"Whoa, trippy. We should all get high and chill," Alec drawled in a flawless impression of Matthew McConaughey from the movie Dazed and Confused.

A startled giggle bubbled out of me, taking my tension with it. Matthew was one of my secret teenage crushes. I was thirteen when my brothers introduced me to the movie, and I was instantly hooked.

"Classic movie."

Jennifer looked at me strangely. By the look on her face, she wasn't familiar with the cult classic. "Dave? From Dazed and Confused?" I probably shouldn't have sounded so judgmental, but it was one of my favorites.

"All right, all right, all right," Alec chimed in again, deadpanning another line from the movie. I had to grab my side from laughing so hard. Evidently my mirth was contagious because even Jennifer couldn't help laughing with me. The only person who didn't seem to find any humor in the situation was Samantha Tran, who had been making an obvious attempt to ignore me since walking on stage. Judging by her annoyed expression, she probably believed she was the butt of our joke, but she didn't have the nerve to ask. The look on her face only made me laugh harder. Without thinking, I turned to Alec and buried my face in his chest. He embraced me in his arms, rubbing my back until I was able to regain my composure. We swayed back and forth like we had the first time we danced together. Suddenly, laughter was the furthest thing from my mind. I could have stayed in his embrace for hours.

I pulled away when I realized everyone else was no longer laughing. "Do my eyes deceive me, or are you blushing?" Jennifer crowed, peering closely at me as I wiped gleeful tears from my eyes. I shook my head minutely, dismissing the twinkle in her eye.

"I'm not surprised. Her face always turns fifty shades of red when she's excited," Alec said, winking at Jennifer. I reacted almost immediately, slapping him on the shoulder.

"OMG, now that one I got. Don't worry. My lips are sealed," she said, acting like she had locked the corner of her mouth.

I grabbed Alec's elbow, pulling him close to me. "Thanks a lot. Watch how fast the rumor of you and me together spreads on social media."

The moment was surreal. Not that I would have any problem with anyone believing Alec and I were together, if it were true, but gossip spread like wildfire and I wasn't comfortable with people talking about my personal life.

Alec's dark and smoky eyes bore into mine, reflecting the fire that raged from me. They saw past my insecurities, probing until they found the passion that swirled inside me like molten lava. Words were not necessary between us. His stare slowly seduced me, stripping away layer after layer until the raw core of my desire was exposed. My mouth dried, leaving a thirst that needed to be quenched, but not by any liquid. I thirsted for him. My tongue moistened my lips, hoping to give them some relief. Our faces moved closer. We could have been the only two souls in the room. Somewhere between a laughing fit and blushing over an assumed romance that hadn't happened yet had become the most intimate moment of my life.

"Pardon me," Samantha Tran interrupted, sliding her way between Alec and me like we were somehow blocking her way across the stage. "Hey, handsome. Where have you been hiding all my life?"

Chapter Twelve

"Well, excuse me, Sam," I said, knowing she preferred to be called Samantha. "What, the entire rest of the stage wasn't good enough to get your wide ass around on?" Ordinarily it wasn't in my nature to stand up for myself. I'd spent my life avoiding conflict, but she needed to die. I wasn't saying I was going to be the one to do it. I may or may not have known how to get away with murder, but there had to be tons of ways to make it look like an accident. Even if I did get caught, I was pretty sure a judge would side with me. Especially when I explained how Samantha had slithered her slimy, disgusting body between me and the man who was about to plant the greatest kiss of my life on my lips.

Gritting my teeth, I pivoted around to face Jennifer before I could follow through on my instincts to shove the microphone stand straight up Samantha's ass. "What a bitch," Jennifer whispered, shaking her head.

Alec placed his hands around my arms to help calm me down as the ballroom doors opened, allowing the party attendees to enter. Their excited chatter filled the room along with whistles and catcalls as they took in the tuxedo-clad models on stage. The rage I felt toward Samantha converted quickly to the nervousness I had been trying to tamp down earlier over speaking in front of a crowd. Michael Hinks, one of the event reps, made his way up the three shallow steps to the stage wearing a microphone headset.

"Ladies, ladies, are you EXCITED!" His voice boomed through the speakers, addressing the crowd. "Ah, I take that as a yes," he said, responding to the many screams and whistles. "Who here is ready to dance with the man of their dreams? To step into their favorite novel and become the heroine they've always wanted to be?" He paused, waiting for another eruption of excitement to subside. He knew how to play to the crowd. "Tonight you'll be able to say whether or not what happens under the cover—stays under the cover," he said, winking outrageously at the crowd. More yells and squeals followed his words as everyone crowded closer to the stage.

Excited giggles and appreciative sighs colored the faces of those standing close to the stage. The blinding spotlights made it impossible to see past the first row of people. The other authors and models attempted to shade their eyes, trying to see the crowd, but I welcomed the blindness. The inability to see everyone staring back at me would make my introduction smoother. At least that was what I was trying to convince myself.

As Michael continued to work the women up into a frenzy, I rehearsed my introduction in my head, focusing on each word individually. What I had prepared was short, but I didn't want to make a fool of myself, especially for about the tenth time in front of Alec. Just once I'd like to show him that I wasn't some blathering, stumbling idiot.

Michael turned his attention to the stage as the spotlight moved away from my face and zeroed in on author Trisha Scott and Adam, the first of three models she had brought with her who had graced the covers of her last series. Each book had sailed effortlessly into the number-one slot on the New York Times list. Trisha was a pillar in the business and the most successful author attending the event. She had been around long before any of us had even considered writing professionally. Her voice was coarse and her skin lined with wrinkles from a lifetime of smoking the menthol cigarettes she was so fond of. She refused to acknowledge the consensus that cigarettes were harmful to your health. A person would literally secondhand smoke a pack a day if they stood around her long enough. The best part of Trisha, though, was her flair for using the word fuck. She said it stemmed from a tough Brooklyn upbringing, and she never apologized for it, no matter who she may have offended. She was tough and scary as hell, but I so wanted to be her when I grew up.

The crowd responded to Trisha's introduction of her models with a roar of pleasure. It was hard to tell if their enthusiasm had to do with her man candy or her. I suspected it was a combination of both. Even I couldn't help feeling awestruck. Trisha's books had been the first romance novels I had ever read. I would huddle under my blankets with a flashlight, knowing Mom would have crapped a brick if she caught me. Trisha's books actually taught me more about the birds and the bees than I learned in school.

Michael introduced the next author, who was someone I didn't know. She looked as uncomfortable as I felt as she stumbled through the introduction of her cover model. I felt her pain. Samantha went next. I silently cursed her the entire time, wishing a hole would open up in the earth and swallow her whole.

Before Jennifer's turn, I urged her to drag out her introduction so I could get the sudden shaking in my hands and butterflies in my stomach under control.

Before I could mentally prepare myself any further, the microphone was thrust into my hand and the bright lights were pointed in my face. I gulped briefly, trying to dislodge the brick that had formed in my throat.

My introduction flew by in a blur, but judging by the crowd's reaction to Alec as he waved, I must have managed to get the words out. >"Pass. I don't need to see the shark before he snaps my hand off," I joked.

"You're afraid of sharks too?"

"Who isn't? Have you seen the movie Jaws?" I realized the list of phobias I was admitting to was quite extensive, and I hadn't even mentioned my fear of spiders, heights or roller coasters flying off their tracks. "How about you? I bet you're not scared of anything."

"Snakes."

"Snakes?"

"Yep, Indiana Jones had nothing on my fear of those slithering bastards. They should all die in the pits of hell."