Episode 10: Inspiration

Episode 10: Inspiration

"I can't believe you still have that thing."

Leslie looked up at Christopher, shocked by his attitude.

"It's your best friend's contact information. You can't be talking about it like it's some kind of garbage."

"It might as well be," he mumbled.

She was totally frozen in shock when he slipped past her and stole the piece of paper out of her hands.

Her jaw dropped when he tossed it in the small bin to the side of her makeshift office.

Face flushing in anger, she geared up to give him a piece of her mind.

"Why did you-"

"Let's get to work." He interrupted tersely.

Behind his words, those ocean eyes of his dared her to say anything else.

It was like he could read her mind.

The editor's lips folded timidly at the sight of him.

Not because she felt the slightest bit threatened by it but more at disbelief of how he could pretend like he hadn't just done what he did.

Why was he being so against her getting to know his friend?

It wasn't like she had any ill intentions towards him.

He was one of her favorite poets for Christ's sake!

Why did he make it seem like he was protecting him from a predator?

Did he really think she was about to sink her claws into Noah because of how easily smitten she had gotten over him when they had first met?

Didn't he know he was the only exception to her mindless actions?

The only one that could get her to do the stupidest and most embarrassing things out of the need to have him in her good graces?

Leslie sighed at her inner monologue.

Christopher heard the sound leave her body and turned back to her, expression prying.

"What's the matter? Why did you make a sound like that?"

"If I said it wasn't because of your difficult nature then I'd be lying."

"Then lie to me."

She gave him an unimpressed look.

Her eyes roamed the expanse of his face and for a second, the woman swore she saw his upper lip twitch due to her bland reaction.

Was what supposed to be him teasing her?

In his mind, was that some sort of...joke?

Her eyes narrowed, curious as to whether he had decided to let go of that side of him around her.

"Are you kidding me right now?"

His lips made a thin line.

"I don't know. It depends on how you think of it. Was it funny?"

"Stop being complicated."

She frowned.

"I hate that the most about you."

His next expression stole her breath away as he took a step towards her, adjusting his glasses on the bridge of his nose.

He stared down at her questionably. "You hate me?"

The way he asked that, with an overflowing amount of innocence and surprise, had Leslie baffled.

Her mouth opened and shut at his expectant gaze.

"No. I..."

Her words trailed off in a muddled mess, not out loud, but more so in her mind.

"No?" He prompted with a raise of his eyebrows.

His hands found themselves into the front of his khaki pockets.

She followed the gesture and placed her own inside her jacket pockets.

They were sweating so much it wouldn't be a surprise if they could fill the huge tub in his bathroom.

Speaking of which, Leslie's mind smartly found an escape at the thought of such a comparison.

"I- I need to use the bathroom!" She yelled and made a run for it.

Throughout her flight, she couldn't help but cringe at how she had basically screamed in his face.

What she didn't catch was the amusement shining brighter than ever in Christopher's eyes.

They were like blue mirror balls.

When do you not cause a scene, Leslie Quinn? He thought, somewhat used to her dramatic reactions.

To be honest, if it wasn't because of them it wouldn't be as refreshing working with her at his place.

Writing was the love of his life no doubt but her personality was starting to make him take little breaks to witness every quirk it had to offer.

It made him very confused.

She wasn't necessarily the prettiest or brightest person he had ever met.

So why did he find staying in his office with his book, pen and laptop harder than usual these days?

If he didn't walk past in time to see her doing the usual handstands or reading his material out loud, Christopher felt like he was missing out on something.

Growing up, he was always told he'd never feel things like this.

Why was there a sudden change in that diagnosis?

Was Leslie's unashamed and confident character the reason for it?

He couldn't understand it no matter how hard he pondered on it, which would go on for days.

Christopher felt like he was having something along the lines of an affair everytime he abandoned his stories to listen to the ones she had to tell him.

It was to the point that he hadn't gotten an ounce of inspiration to write anything over the past week.

She was now the biggest enemy of his without knowing it.

But Leslie was also his friend.

At least, in some sense which was very ironic given the situation.

Was he supposed to hate her for being such a distraction or entertain the much needed break from stressing over his writings?

It was one of the biggest dilemmas in his life.

He watched as Leslie returned with an alienated face.

She gave him an odd look because of it.

"Why are you looking at me like that?"

"I..."

His tongue went to answer, and almost as if he was about to make the biggest mistake ever, he caught himself.

"Nothing. There's no reason."

She stepped forward, gaze studying every crease of his face and the disparities in his expression. "I think there is."

Looking away with shaking pupils, Christopher exhaled heavily. "Do you really want to know?"

Leslie's anticipation spiked.

Is he really willing to tell me with only this level of prying?

"Yes!-"

His eyes widened at the enthusiasm and she quickly cleared her throat, attempting to save face.

"I mean, if you wanna tell me that would be cool."

Staring at her for what felt like an eternity, he finally pointed to the chair for her to take a seat.

She swallowed at the serious look which suddenly took over his face when he did.

"So, what do you wanna tell me?"

They had been sitting down, facing each other for the past five minutes without saying anything.

She was shocked by her own patience for holding out for so long.

If he didn't reveal what he wanted to say within the next minute, Leslie was sure she would explode.

Christopher crossed one leg over the other in an elegant manner before clasping his hands.

"I have a very important question to ask you."

"Go ahead." She insisted, excited.

He stared at her for one more apprehensive second before going for it.

"What do you usually tell the authors you've worked with who aren't inclined to write anymore?"

"What?"

His fingers snapped with how quickly he pulled them apart at her high pitched voice.

To say she was surprised would be an understatement.

Christopher Wells didn't feel like writing anymore?

What other dimension had she accidentally and unknowingly wound up in?

"I mean," he cleared his throat, eyes becoming tentative at her tone. "What would you tell them, as a professional, if their book isn't going in the direction they wanted it to?"

"Your book isn't? Since when?"

"I'm not talking about me!" He denied.

She ignored him and continued on with the issue at the moment.

"What exactly is the problem? Is it a regular writer's block or a slump?"

The concern shining in her eyes had astonished him.

She genuinely sounded afraid for him but also ready to do anything in the books to help solve the problem.

Her voice was gentle, as if she was talking to a child. Not in a belittling manner but one intended to soothe one's heart.

He felt like his brain reacting to something like that was out of the norm too.

It wasn't much of a shock to him when his lips moved with an admittance.

"Lisa's character isn't working out for me anymore."

Her eyes were torn open.

"Oh."

Why did that sound like such a breakup to her ears?

His brows furrowed at her reaction.

'Oh'? Just what did she mean by that? He thought with as much impatience as confusion.

Thankfully, Leslie was one to follow up on her reactions.

"Why- why is that? I thought it was going well? Didn't you have an entire folder designated to her character? What happened? Is it just her or her relationship with Joseph?"

Christopher ran a hand over his face as if he couldn't believe he was talking about this with her.

The same woman he had told not to question the contents of his works nor give any opinions on them.

Leslie's next words seemed to coincide perfectly with his thoughts which has him getting goosebumps.

"You can tell me comfortably. Don't be ashamed." She coaxed.

As if he was under some sort of spell, he spilled his guts on the matter.

"I have no inspiration for her anymore. She's like a compass with no directions. It sounds impossible, I know, but that's how I feel when I write scenes with her these days. It doesn't help that I'm always distracted halfway through."

"You're being distracted?" Leslie gasped.

His eyes rolled at her dramatic reaction.

"How? Don't I always make sure that the alarms and electronics are off? I hardly ever make any sound here. I can't even hear myself breathing sometimes."

He almost laughed.

Laughed.

That was when he knew this was an even bigger problem than he had imagined.

Christopher's face hardened upon the gruesome idea of him not finishing this book because of a female's pheromone.

It was ridiculous to be honest.

However, it was the most putative form of chemicals which went straight to his brain.

Was it possible that one's brain had a preference to certain people over some naturally?

As much as he told himself Leslie was a nuisance he should get rid of quickly like his past editors, he couldn't do it successfully with her strong will.

It was like holding it out with him was a life goal of hers.

Oftentimes he found himself not knowing if he should be flattered or reflective of his actions.

"It's everything about her. She's not refreshing. I want to change that."

His eyes lingered onto Leslie's face much longer than they should have.

"Maybe you should."

He sat there, stunned by her suggestion.

"What?" She asked at the way he was looking at her accusingly. "It's sound advice. If you no longer like the character, change them. It's never too late."

"You make it sound like the book isn't seventy percent in its completion."

"Well, you hate Lisa so make that fifty."

His nostrils flared at her words.

"I don't hate her."

She laughed, noticing how saying something like that was too personal for him.

"Aw, does it make you mad if I say something like that?"

"It's my character. I could never hate her. Everyone else reading could feel that way about her, but not me. I made her. I know her the best."

"Maybe that's the problem." Leslie pointed out.

"What do you mean?"

"You know her too well. That's why there's no excitement in writing about her anymore. There's nothing new, fresh and worse of all, there is no character development."

He blinked.

Leslie knew that she had hit the nail on the head based on his speechlessness.

"You should try drawing inspiration from someone in the real world. It has worked pretty well for many authors I've worked with when they have problems like this. That process of unraveling a person and transferring it to paper is one of the most liberating things I've ever witnessed."

His eyes darkened at the offer.

"I've never required the characteristics of someone to write off of."

"You make it sound like plagiarism."

"Is there a difference between the two?"

Leslie sighed at his narrow-minded nature.

"Do I need to spell it out for you? Okay, take song lyrics for example. Where do those stories come from? Do you think they're just conjured up by the artist? No! It's personal experience; from the habits and features of a lover, friend or family. They're all derivatives of someone or something. I'm just telling you to make use of that."

He shook his head and stood up.

"I don't like the idea."

"But you said you write about your readers' desires! Isn't that something close to what I'm asking you to do? Those scenarios are a source of someone else's mind."

As if she had struck him with something, Christopher winced.

At the sight of it, she had never felt more regretful of being so outspoken.

"I didn't mean that you..."

"Forget I said anything." He cut her off sharply.

Leslie sat there dejectedly as he left the room with a storm brewing over his head.

***

A/N:

I'll be updating this book more regularly since Falling for the Chase is drawing near to completion.

Don't forget to vote and comment your thoughts. Your opinion means a lot and constructive criticism always makes my work better. 💕

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insta: @writtenbyzan_]