“Aw, thanks. But you probably should have brought some tequila. This is so not going well.”
“Hey, that might actually work. Weren't most of the famous writers all drunks anyway? That might be the key to it all.”
I laughed. “I don't think drinking this semester has worked in my favor at all. If anything, it's just made me dumber.”
“Well, that is true in some cases.”
“Hey!”
She laughed. “Well, enjoy your tea. I'm hitting the shower, so I will check on you in a bit. Happy writing!”
I smiled as she left. I loved Julie; she was such a great friend. I sipped slowly on the tea to avoid burning my lips. It was the perfect addition to my morning?a little bitterness with a touch of sweetness. I could never drink green tea without lemon, it just wasn't tasty enough. Okay, I needed to focus. I took another sip of tea, and set it down on the bedside table. I took pencil to paper, and started scrolling down some ideas that I thought would be solid starting points. Once I finished, I felt vaguely proud, and started reading over the ideas one by one. As I did that, I started crossing them off one by one. They were terrible ideas, and certainly not very original. Just like with my drawing assignment, I really wanted to open the eyes of my professors creatively. I wanted them to see I could make a mark on the world, that I wasn't just another artist who stumbled through the school hallways, never really going anywhere in life. No, I truly believed I was meant for greatness, and I did not want to be lazy on any assignment. This was my future, and I was determined to work hard for it.
I lay back on my bed, and nestled my head into the pillows. I thought long and hard about what I could do for my project. The last thing I wanted to do was wait until the last minute to write the bloody thing, or I would be in real trouble. I could just imagine myself with writer's block, the night before the assignment was due. That would certainly impress the professor. And writer's block was real, people, trust me. It had plagued my mind on more than one occasion. My eyes fluttered closed, and I tried to focus on the things that had occurred in my life up until that point. There had surely been plenty of highs and lows in my life. Good times, and also some very sad times. My professor was always giving us tips when it came to writing in general. She always said to us, “Write what you know!” I had always thought it was excellent writing advice. Many writers often struggled when they ventured outside the box and their stories lacked genuineness. Your true passion for writing often dripped through the crevices of your existence if you had a solid understanding of that passion.
My mind started drifting to my ex, and how we had originally met. He had stumbled upon me at the library one day and abruptly sat down at my table. He actually studied, unlike Jet. The thought made me smile. My ex had apologized for being rude, but had been looking unsuccessfully for a quiet place to read. He had been so handsome that it almost hurt for me to look at him. Although we had both been there for some quiet, we ended up talking for hours. When he left me his number, and the promise to see me again, I had actually felt an ache at his absence. Sounded like the perfect love story, didn't it? A lot of people would eat that right up, and for three years it had been just that?perfection.
What most people wouldn't expect, however, was the betrayal that came from the man I loved, and my own best friend. The story could be harsh enough for the movies, a real blockbuster. But the idea of recreating that story, and having to dig deep in order to portray the characters correctly would require me to open old wounds that I didn't want to open. When I thought about it, and all that it would require, it made me a little depressed, and I nixed the idea immediately. It could be a compelling drama, but it surely would be a humiliating one for the lead character. No, it was best to lay that one to rest.
So if I wasn't going to write about my ex, who would I write about? It wasn't long; maybe two to three seconds before Jet came to mind. He was one of those ruthless bad boys that girls (not me) seemed to swoon over. He was the classic breaker of hearts; eat ‘em up and then spit ‘em out. Could I write a convincing story about him? Sure, I could look at what had already transpired between us. It really was the perfect story, and I didn't need to worry about any festering wounds opening back up, because there were no wounds. I didn't care about him, and he didn't care about me. I could essentially write a story based off of true events that were happening in my life right now. It could almost be like a diary.
I started scribbling furiously on my pad of paper. I tried to remember facts, feelings, and situations that had occurred between us so far. I was writing so fast that my hand and wrist started to ache. But I didn't stop. I was on a roll, and I didn't want to lose momentum. I had an idea, and I was running with it before I lost it completely.
Julie peeked into my room with a towel wrapped around her; wet hair fell messily down her back. Noticing my furious writing, and my inability to look up at her, she came into the room and sat down on the edge of my bed to see what I was doing.
“I see you figured out your story. I told you that tea would do the trick.”
I laughed as I looked up at her. All I said to her was, “Jet,” as I continued writing in a frantic manner.
“Really? Why would you do that?”
“Why not?”
“Isn't it obvious?” She laughed nervously, not wanting to kill my writing buzz.
I stopped writing and sat up to talk to her. I set my pencil down beside my pad, and waited for her to continue.
“Are you falling for this guy?”
“No! Are you crazy? Of course not. Why would you think such a thing?”
“I don't know, Natalie, but for someone who doesn't want anything to do with the guy, you are really immersed in his life.”
“No, I'm not.”
“Oh really? He is your subject for a very important art project, he teaches you self-defense and now he's the subject of yet another important writing project. Do you see a theme here?”
I stared at her, not saying a word. I really didn't have a response, though I had to take note of the fact that she was incredibly perceptive.
“It's just convenient, Julie. That's all. He makes my art projects easy because of who he is, and he makes it easy for me to exploit his womanizing ways. Now, the self-defense? You were right there; I don't want to experience anything like that again. Had someone else offered to teach me, then I would be doing it with them. But it was Jet who offered, so that's all it is, convenience.”
Julie didn't appear to be buying anything I was selling to her at the moment.
“I don't think this story that you are writing is going to have a happy ending. I wish it would, I really do. But based on things that I have seen already, I don't see it happening.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, you guys have officially slept together now; it's not just a rumor anymore. Now usually that's the crowning moment, when you finally get to see whether sex turns into something else. Either you move on together, or he never talks to you again. Oddly enough, neither has happened, and you two are stagnant together, just waiting for something to happen. It's very unusual. I just don't see it going happily ever after for you guys, and this weird dance that you are doing with each other.”