The Darkness Between Us || [C.L.]

// e l e v e n

Nina had already been sitting on her laptop catching up on work for nearly four hours by the time Rosie made her way into the kitchen, stretching, obviously freshly arising from her slumber.

"Morning." She yawned, pulling open a cupboard door to grab a mug for her cup of tea.

"Hey." Nina smiled, partially lowering her screen to get a better view. "How are you feeling?"

Rosie's delicate fingers flicked the switch at the bottom of the kettle to turn it on, and reached for the canister of tea bags that only got used when she was here. She had decided to ditch her morning coffee in favour of a green tea, reading that it made you more awake for longer and was better for your metabolism.

"I think okay." She threw the bag into her mug with force, making Nina certain that that they may not be the entire truth. "How about you? How's your first day without lover-boy?"

Nina sighed, shaking her head, and pulled the screen back up so she could direct her focus a little less toward the conversation and a little more toward her job. "Weird, I guess. Or, I don't know.... The same as it was before. Just quiet." She shrugged.

Once her tea was finished brewing, Rosie made her way to the seat opposite Nina and watched as she tapped away for a few minutes, staring intently at the screen, unfocused on anything else. Her concentration was broken by the sound of an incoming email, face relaxing as she read through it, eyebrows raising.

"What is it?" Rosie asked, taking a sip from her still-too-hot tea. Fuck, she missed coffee in the morning.

"Terry Cavanaugh." Nina seemed pleased with this. Rosie remembered her saying that he would arrange a meeting in a few months time, and wondered if perhaps he had re-read her work and decided to push it forward. "He says he has six anthologies lined up for print and wants to know if I'm interested in contributing. Four are poetry and two are short stories. He said he thinks my work would suit them." She paused, reading further. "Fuck, he's literally read through my work and said which piece he wants for each one. The only one he's missing is a love poem, but if I can get one to him by the end of the week then the spot's all mine." Another pause. "Fuck. It's 100 quid for each piece."

"Jesus Christ." Rosie gasped. That was a lot of money to have on the side. "Wait, so, how many poems did you send him?"

"I don't know. I didn't think he would respond so I just sent him everything I could find. I think it was like.... thirty-something poems and maybe twelve short stories and a plan for a novel. Something like that. I figured if he did read through it he might like something."

Rosie stared for a moment, eyes-wide. "You sent him thirty poems and none of them were about love?"

Nina shrugged, reading through the email again. She let herself wonder for a moment about what could come. Maybe he'd like them, and like them so much that he decides to publish something bigger. And maybe it wouldn't go tits up. Maybe she could even quick her stupid fucking job.

It was 6.11pm by the time Nina finished her work for the day. The things she did not do over the past 2 and a half days had piled up, resulting in a 10 hour day full of a couple of meetings, and a shit ton of paperwork.

Rosie had left at around half four for a shoot in South London, and Nina knew the chances were that she wouldn't return until past 11, meaning there were five hours to fill. Part of her considered taking a walk, or maybe going to the supermarket to see if she could find something to cook for the night. Her plans were thwarted by the buzz of her phone on the table.

Charles Leclerc would like to facetime.

Without hesitation, she swiped, a smile growing on her face. He looked a little tired, his hair hidden beneath a red ferrari cap. Still, a grin appeared as soon as he lay his eyes on Nina. She looked equally tired.