Writer Divided

Chapter 1

I snarled at the large bookstore. I refuse to go in it. As soon as I saw Ms. Savannah's store, I ran inside. Fairly faster than I should've. I ran into a tall man.

"Oh! Sorry! Dear, are you alright?" He asked. "It's you! Ms. Valentine, like the holiday!"

"Yes. It is. Are you Mr. Nicholas?" I asked.

"Hmm. I would hope you would remember. Forgivable," he said.

Did he just tell me what was forgivable in his own mindset? I don't answer to him.

"Pardon me?" I asked.

"I only hope that you can forgive me for my bluntness, and my rudeness. How about coffee? There's a shop down the corner," he said.

"No. I have to find a book," I said. "Now, excuse me."

I slid past him, into the store. I sorted through the books before landing on Irresistible. It's a book by another anonymous author, who goes by the pseudonym Jamie Seidwick. It's only fair that I read my colleagues works. Although I have no taste for the author's choice in genre, I'm willing to try anything once. The book is about a woman who falls in love with herself. She even loves herself more than her husband. It's literally a book about narcissism developing.

I sigh and brushed off its dusty cover. I took out the ten dollars in my pocket and laid it on the desk. I stole a sticky note off of her register and simply wrote Irrisistible by Jamie Seidwick.

I ran out of there before Ms. Savannah could come out the back. She would know it was me. I slid out of the building fast. "Did you get your book?" I heard him ask. I spun around to see him reading The Phantom.

"Yes. Thank you for asking. Now scurry along. I have places to be," I said, walking.

"I'll just have to ask you to open your purse," he said.

"I'm not playing your silly games," I said.

"It won't hurt," he said, coming up next to me. I rolled my eyes and opened the purse.

In my purse was a buisness card that said 'Nick Sprecher, Author' and a rose.

"An author and a magician. Okay...what's the deal, Sprecher?" I asked.

"I would like to buy you coffee, Ms. Winters," he said.

"You are certainly getting closer to that."

He tilted back on his heels. "Well, tell me how I can have it," he asked.

I stopped walking.

"What sort of book writing do you do?" I asked.

"The sort like this," he said, holding up The Phantom. "Romance novels set in the classical time period."

I nodded. "Any works I might've read?" I asked.

"The one your carrying," he said.

"This is written by a woman," I said.

"Was it?" He asked.

"Perhaps not. How can I be assured that your Jaimi Seidwick?" I asked.

"An author knows another author," he said.

"Well, then who am I?" I asked.

"I don't know who you are. I looked up your name, but no books popped up. However by the look of your fingers, you've typed quite a few."

"Alright, Romeo. You've won coffee with me. But you have something to prove, Seidwick," I remarked walking.

He followed directly next to me.