Dearest Series Boxed Set by Lex Martin Read Free Book Online Page B

encouraged me every step of the way.
    I think that’s why I’ve been struggling with writer’s block. Since shit went down with Wheeler my freshman year, I’ve sequestered myself in a lot of ways, but keeping people at arm’s length is what helped me survive. That’s the trouble, though. My last two years of college have been quiet. Safe but insulated. With no drama. No cheating boyfriends. No crazy professors. No emotional breakdowns.
    But I’m starting to realize that closing myself off has taken its toll. I think that’s why Marceaux’s assignment has been so difficult. I can write about Young Adult heartbreak because I’ve experienced it, but I don’t know jack about adult relationships.
    “Does your professor know who you are?” Harper asks, jarring me from my pensive thoughts.
    “No. And I’m keeping it that way. In case I forgot to say it, you were a genius for suggesting I use a pen name. Plus, I was late for that first class, so I missed the whole ‘who’s been published?’ conversation.”
    “Would it be so bad if she knew?”
    My blood pressure rises thinking about that possibility.
    “One, I don’t want brownie points for shit I wrote three years ago. Two, you know I can’t handle people reading Say It Isn’t So and suspecting all that crap really happened to me. Besides, the fewer people who know I wrote it, the better. If this ends up in the tabloids, I’ll die.” I shred the napkin in front of me. “And three, it’s liberating to be able to write without the scrutiny of people knowing who you are.” Or at least it’s supposed to be.
    Her eyes are understanding. “Tell me what’s been so difficult about this class.”
    With the move and my birthday and classes starting up, we haven’t had much time to talk lately, so I unload it all. That I don’t know what to write as a follow-up to my first book . That I’d better figure it out soon if I plan to pay my spring tuition. That even if I could use my romance-writing assignment for my new book, it still has to be good. Never mind that I have no fucking idea how to write an honest-to-goodness romance. One-night stands I can do because the emotions don’t run deep. But love? Trust? Vulnerability? I’m not so sure I can pull that off.
    “Your professor said that? You have to write about sex?” Harper asks, her eyes wide.
    “No, but given the examples she’s read us in class, I know that’s what she’s expecting. She wants intimacy .” My heart sinks as I flick a piece of wilted lettuce from my salad. “Come on, Harper, I know shit about relationships and even less about sex.”
    Just talking about intimacy has me practically hyperventilating. I take a sip of water and start counting backward from a hundred like my shrink taught me.
    Harper puts down her sandwich and grabs my arm, pausing me mid-gulp.
    “Relax. I will cut that bitch up if she fails you.”
    She says it straight-faced, and I start laughing so hard that water comes shooting out my nose. My little prim and proper best friend going hood has me in hysterics, and I stop counting.

    * * *
    O n Thursday night , I get his text: So. How about it? Meet me at the gym at 4:30 tomorrow?
    I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t been thinking about going climbing with Gavin. Just as friends … His words make me smile.
    I’m so tired of being in hibernation mode. My friends assume I’ve been denying myself all this time, like I’m into some kind of asceticism, but the truth is I’ve been numb—numb from my parents not giving a shit about me, numb from breaking up with Daren, numb from my asshole professor attacking me. I just haven’t felt anything, and when I have, it’s been rage, and the only face I could put on all of this was Clem, the bitch. I can’t count the number of people who have gotten in my path and felt my wrath. I’m the youngest assistant manager at my job, not just because I run the campus bookstore like a damn naval operation, but also because the kids