TheWriteGuy
Lately when I go to write, every time I picture Raelle, she has hazel eyes now.
Should I tell him that I had hazel eyes too? Or would that break the unspoken rule we’d somehow agreed on, keeping details about ourselves and our lives out of our conversations? My fingers hovered over the screen, unsure what to type.
I shook my head. Best not to mention it.
ReadToLiv
I think you should write your characters however they feel authentic to you. If changing her eye color helps, then go for it.
TheWriteGuy
I know I don’t need your approval when I’m writing, but I like having it nonetheless.
I blushed at his words. I wasn’t sure if he meant much by them, but they meant a lot to me.
I set my phone down for a moment, trying to shake the blush from my cheeks.TheWriteGuy’s words made my body warm in a way that was different from the flutter Talon caused. There was something safe aboutTheWriteGuy—his humor, the way he actually listened in our conversations, the subtle kindness that threaded through everything he said.
And yet … I couldn’t stop replaying the recent encounters with Talon. His grin, that wink, the way he’d said my name—it all lingered in my mind like a stubborn shadow. I’d told myself he was just teasing, just playing the flirty, popular guy, but now I wasn’t so sure. My heart had betrayed me, skipping and fluttering in ways I hadn’t expected.
It was confusing. One guy was the mysterious, charming stranger who made me feel alive in a way I didn’t fully understand. The other gave me the safe, genuine connection I was building online, a world where I could be myself without the pressure of his gaze.
Sighing, I sank onto the edge of my couch and kicked off my shoes. I couldn’t tell which thought was louder—my curiosity about Talon or the comfort I felt withTheWriteGuy. And maybe that was the point: two different men tugging at me, each offering something I hadn’t known I was missing.
I shook my head, reminding myself to focus. Work, classes, homework—there were plenty of things I could control. Heartstrings and attractive swimmers weren’t among them.
Still … I couldn’t help but glance at my phone again, imagining whatTheWriteGuywould say next. And somewhere in the back of my mind, a small stubborn part of me couldn’t stop wondering when—or if—Talon would show up at the library again.
CHAPTER 6
TALON
Iwas on my way to the Wilson Center for afternoon practice when my phone buzzed in my pocket.
Dad.
For a second, I considered letting it go to voicemail like I usually did. But guilt—or maybe just a spark of defiance—had me answering. I took a breath, shoved down the dread already creeping in, and hit accept.
“Hey, Dad.”
“You finally picked up.” His voice was rough, as if I’d been dodging him for months instead of days.
“I’ve been busy. Training. Conditioning.” My tone came out clipped, the annoyance impossible to hide.
“And looking for a real job, I hope,” he shot back. “Swimming isn’t a career, Talon.”
There it was. The same conversation we’d been having for years, just on repeat.
“I know. You tell me every time we talk.”
“And every time you act like swimming matters morethan your future. You’re twenty-five years old. Do you really think this is sustainable?”
I shut my eyes and forced myself to breathe before I said something I couldn’t take back. “Is there a reason you’re calling, or do you just want to run through the usual greatest hits?”
“Heaven forbid I check in on my son,” he muttered, sarcasm dripping through the line.
I pushed through the doors of the Wilson Center, the familiar smell of chlorine and rubber flooring wrapping around me like home. “I’m good. It’s only March. Still time to get my times where they need to be.”