We're Not Done

I paused when I heard him challenging me right on the spot. I actually have the draft of my work here on my phone and it’s already finished and that’s what I plan on showing him so I could ask for his opinion.

“Umm…” I hesitated, my eyes locking with his. I stiffened once more as his eyes really never left mine. “I actually have my story here in my phone’s drafts and—”

“No,” he interrupted, cutting me off from my upcoming suggestion. “I want a new one on the spot.”

I furrowed my brows. “What do you want me to write?” He’s challenging me, so fine… let’s take the challenge!

“What’s your genre?” he asked, now sitting on the leather chair opposite mine.

“Contemporary romance, fantasy romance,” I answered, Joaquin giving me a single nod.

“Alright. Then write something romantic,” he replied, giving more details. “A domineering man, softening to a sweet woman. Go.”

I held the pen on my hand as I stared on the blank paper. I felt cold sweat on my back as I grew conscious of the fact that Joaquin, the famous author, watching me as he got a bottle of whiskey from the mini fridge beside his table.

I started writing, trying to focus despite the pressure of Joaquin’s intense gaze and the cold sweat trickling down my back. My mind raced, and I struggled to come up with something compelling on the spot.

Despite being conscious, the words flowed from my pen, forming a simple scenario:

***

The man approached her slowly, his expression softening as he took in her presence. She stood nervously, her hands fidgeting, but his smile was reassuring. He reached out and gently took her hand, his touch warm and tender.

“You’re special to me,” he said, his voice low and sincere.

She blushed, her heart racing. “I… I don’t know what to say,” she stammered.

“You don’t have to say anything,” he replied, stepping closer and wrapping her in a gentle embrace. “Just know that I’m here for you.”

***

I paused, reading over what I had written. It felt flat, lacking the spark that could make it truly engaging. I glanced up at Joaquin, who was pouring himself a glass of whiskey. He took a sip, then set down the glass and stood, walking around the desk to stand in front of me.

He looked at the paper, then at me. “Read it aloud,” he instructed.”

My cheeks flushed with embarrassment, but I complied. My voice was wavering slightly as I read the scene. When I finished, he nodded thoughtfully.

“Stand up.”

I blinked my eyes in confusion, but I obeyed. My heart was pounding when I noticed Joaquin stepping closer, his eyes locking into mine with an intensity that made me swallow hard. Without warning, he reached out and took my hand, pulling me closer to him.

“Oh!”

I slightly crashed at his body, feeling his chiseled chest as my hand splayed on him the moment we are now closer together.

“You’re special to me,” he whispered, his voice sultry against my ear as his breath brushed against my skin. Only now did I realize that it was just what I had written… but different. However, I could feel his voice low and sincere, mirroring the lines I had penned.

I blinked in surprise, my heart racing as I followed suit—knowing that we are reenacting what I wrote. “I… I don’t know what to say,” I stammered, feeling the same nervousness I had described.

Joaquin released my hand, now making the embrace more intimate as he hugged me tighter. My mind is now racing at the thought of how easy he could do this to a complete stranger…

Is he secretly a womanizer, a playboy?

“You don’t have to say anything,” he murmured, even subtly planting a soft kiss on the tip of my ear, making me squirm in his hold.

“J-Joaquin?!”

The sudden closeness, the warmth of his body, and the sincerity in his eyes as he slowly released me in his hold completely caught me off guard. My pulse quickened, and I felt a strange mixture of vulnerability and comfort.

After a moment, as if seeing that I have savored the moment, his expression became contemplative. “What did you feel just now?” he then asked.

‘It was all an act,’ I reminded myself, taking a deep breath and then exhaling slowly to steady my racing heart. “I felt… surprised. Vulnerable. But also… comforted,” I admitted.

He nodded, a faint smile playing on his lips. “Good. Then that’s what you write in that scenario. Capture the raw emotions, the nuances of what it feels like to be caught off guard and yet comforted. Writing isn’t just about the words on the page. It’s about conveying genuine emotion.”

I nodded, my mind clearer now. He did make sense—making me realize what I had been missing on what I just wrote.

“Thank you,” I thanked him, the corner of his lips tugging into a smirk.

“We’re not done,” he said, inching closer to me once more, making me step back.

“Wh-what?” I stammered, feeling the dragons in my stomach once more.

Now, they’re breathing fire!

His smirk deepened. “Let’s explore another angle,” he suggested, his voice dropping to a playful whisper. “Sometimes, the best way to write an emotion is to feel it firsthand.”

Before I could even respond, the door to the library swung open with a sudden bang, startling both of us. Standing in the doorway was a tall, imposing figure that looked like the older version of Joaquin. His stern expression and sharp eyes quickly took in the scene before him.  

Wait… could it be?

“Joaquin,” his father said, his voice laced with disapproval. “What is going on here?”

There was a three-second silence. “I…” I furrowed my brows, not knowing what to do. “Joaquin,” I whispered, now looking at him. “What—mmf!!”

Before I could even question what’s happening, he wrapped his arm around my waist and pulled me towards him. Before I could even process what was happening, my mind went haywire when I felt his lips on mine!

What the hell is going on!? I just came to have a one-time talk with this author. Why the hell is he kissing me now?!

He then let me go, what he said further sending my soul out of my body.

“I’m allowed to be alone with my fiancée, right?”