Chapter 7

Stevie McGabe

I regret my words as soon as they leave my mouth. I know from Darryl’s expression that they have their desired effect—a little bit of the same jealousy that I feel.

The truth is, Cameron is lovely—but very much not interested in me other than as a friend. ~And someone to perv over Mr. Bryans with.~

Since that night, it feels like Darryl and I are playing phone tag. I call him before going to class, and he is asleep. He calls me during the day when he has free time, but I am either in class or at work—Rhea manages to get me some part-time work at her uncle’s restaurant alongside her.

Then, after his show, I am usually asleep. It has been nearly a week since we’ve communicated in any way besides text messages, and even those are feeling a little superficial. Monday seems to roll around faster and faster.

“What’s with your face?” Cameron jokes, dropping his bag down next to mine and taking a seat.

I sigh. “I just feel like things are breaking down between Darryl and me.”

“I’m sorry, hun,” he reaches over and covers my hand with his larger one. “I didn’t expect it to be this hard…I feel like I’m losing him,” I blink back unexpected tears at uttering the words out loud, which have been circulating in my mind recently.

Mr. Bryans clears his throat from the front of the room, his eyebrow raised slightly as he looks my way. I blush and duck my head, sliding down a little in my chair. “As I am saying, good morning, guys. This week we will be looking at character arcs, so I have some reading material for you all to devour,” he pauses as a titter undulates around the room from other fangirls, “and we will be getting back together on Thursday to discuss your findings.”

“Wow! Two whole days to relax and read,” Cameron lets out a low whistle as he slides the reading list into his bag. “Pinch me, I must be dreaming.”

I giggle, and Mr. Bryans pauses as he hands me my list. “I’m glad to see you’re looking forward to the relaxation, Mr. Farmer. Stephanie, I hope you take it a bit more seriously than your friend here.”

I feel my cheeks heat again under his appraising gaze. I can’t lie, I always feel a little flutter in my belly when he says my name. Usually, I can’t stand people using my full name, but when it rolls off his tongue…~ugh!~ Never before would I have described someone as having a voice like velvet, but that’s exactly what his voice sounds like when it is forming those three syllables.

“No, sir…I mean, yes, sir,” I swallow, trying to calm the internal fluster going on. “I take it very seriously.”

***

The next morning, Rhea stands coughing in my doorway. “I’m sorry,” ~sniff~ “You know I wouldn’t ask,” ~sniff, cough cough cough~ “if it wasn’t an emergency,” ~cough sniff cough cough.~

I nod, glancing at the book in my hand in dismay. I have only read one of the four books I am supposed to read and make notes on, so I am hoping to have gotten through at least two today and the last one on Wednesday, giving me plenty of time to go over my notes, ready for the discussion on Thursday. Mr. Bryans likes a prepared student who has lots of well-thought-out ideas.

“I’ll cover your shift. Just go back to bed before you pass your cold onto me.” Rhea shoots me a grateful smile before shuffling back to her cocoon of tissues. I reluctantly pull on my uniform, scraping my hair back into a tight bun, and slip my feet into my black ballet flats.

Before I leave our apartment, I check on my best friend—topping up her water and her drugs and making sure her phone is in reach, just in case. I am supposed to be working this evening and can’t help the swear word that bubbles up from within me when Rhea’s uncle informs me that they won’t be able to cover my shift at such short notice and they are already going to be one server down with Rhea being off, so I am having to work all day and all night. ~There goes my idea that I might be able to catch up on my reading after work!~

About halfway through the longest shift of my life, a familiar voice makes me do a double take. “Is this what taking it seriously looks like to you, Stephanie?”

“I’m…this is…my friend is sick, so I’m covering her shift!” Mr. Bryans’ handsome face breaks into a teasing smile, and I find myself giggling. “Honestly, I’d planned to stay in bed and read the whole time, Mr. Bryans.”

“Please, call me Dan.”

“Dan,” I repeat, my smile widening. ~Is this what swooning feels like?~

The next hour speeds by. ~Dan~ is charming and funny, much more than he appears in the writing workshop. Even the other servers find excuses to linger by his table to hear him talk.

He walks over to me, his light cotton sweater clutched in one hand, his bill in the other. “Well, thank you for a pleasant evening, Stephanie,” he graces me with another warm smile as he hands over his credit card. “I was envisioning another lonely dinner, so I’m very happy I took a chance on this little restaurant tonight.”

“Well, it’s been lovely being your server this evening,” I beam back at him as I hand his card back.

“Maybe, one day, I can return the favor.” He winks at me as he slips his wallet into his back pocket, leaving me a little stunned as he walks confidently out the door. ~Did he just come on to me?~

***

“Thanks for today, everybody,” Mr. Bryans—~Dan~—smiles, clapping his hands together. “And as a little extra, I am extending a little one-on-one time to a few people whose writing stood out from the barrage of submissions I waded through. Obviously, I thought all of you showed some talent, or you wouldn’t be in this room right now, but there are just a few who I wanted to talk to in a bit more detail. Starting with you, Stephanie.”

His soft grey eyes find me, and I know I’m blushing profusely as everyone’s eyes follow. Cameron nudges me and flashes me a grin which I know is saying ~‘Tell me everything later on, girl!’~ before disappearing out of the door. Soon enough, it’s just me and Mr. Bryans left.

The next hour is one of the worst in my life.

He completely demolishes my submission. We’ve been given an opening sentence and instructed to write no more than five thousand words of any genre we liked. I’ve chosen romance as it is what I read primarily, but listening to his feedback, I wish I hadn’t.

According to him, it is the lowest form of writing, and although my grasp of language and character building is good, I’ve ruined it by making it—in his words—‘~a gooey mush of same old tired drivel’~.

“I mean, who really falls in love that quickly with a complete stranger or finds themselves falling in love with the person who has made their lives a misery? Hah! And people say ~my~ books are too far-fetched!” He has sat next to me at some point during his diatribe, and he now stretches his arm across the back of my chair, wafting his expensive-smelling cologne around. Immediately, I miss Darryl’s slightly smoky, masculine smell. Feeling the soft stroke of Mr. Bryans’ thumb against my exposed shoulder, I straighten my back, suddenly on full alert.

“Uhm…I didn’t realize how late it has gotten,” I grab my bag, sweeping my papers into it any which way. “I’ve got to go…I’ve got to get to work.”

“Okay,” he leans forward, a strange half-smile on his mouth which he attempts to hide with his hand. “Maybe I’ll have to stop by again…I have to say, your creamy sauce was divine...I really wouldn’t mind sampling it some more.”

I give him a weak smile as I speed-walk out of the room, my phone already in my hand and Darryl’s number on my screen.