Freedom, Flowers, Books, and the Moon

Chapter 8

Aurie dropped onto the stool next to Beau, panting.

"He didn't take it easy on you, did he?" The country man chuckled at the girl.

"No, he definitely didn't," She tried to discreetly wipe the sweat off her forehead.

Aurie saw a water bottle being slid across the island to her and looked to find King.

"Thank you," she said as she unscrewed the cap.

The oldest man nodded and silently turned back to the refrigerator, rummaging through the drawers looking for something.

"Ok, honey, do you wanna do this here or in the living room?" Beau questioned.

Aurie bit her lip and weighed her options. She could do it in the living room and only have to worry about what Beau thinks, but the others are most likely going to read her writing at some point anyway. The girl knew that she would rather they do so on her terms. Cielo was also aware of her anxiety surrounding the situation and might be able to help if her worries got out of control.

"Let's do it here," Aurelia finally answered, pulling her notebook from her trusty tote bag.

Beau's eyebrows raised in surprise, having been fully prepared to move to the other room in question. He leaned forward and rested his forearms on the surface in front of him.

"Whenever you're ready," he smiled gently at the girl beside him.

Aurie quickly glanced at the two men by the stove before turning to the page filled to the brim with her words.

"I, um, ok. Here we go,"

"You got it, doll," King affirmed from the burner without turning around.

"I was raised in a southern town. It was small. It was so small, in fact, that we only had one radio station. Needless to say, they played country music. I listened to country music, nothing else, not even generic pop songs, until I was 14. Most songs sung by Blake Shelton and Darius Rucker and Luke Bryan and every other country artist you could ever think of are love songs. I was raised listening to these men write songs and worship these women on the radio. I've always been a big reader. I was the cliche shy little girl that read because she wanted to get out of her city and meet people without actually having to do those things. Naturally, because of the music I listened to, I was drawn to romance. I would burn through these books quicker than the library could get new ones. I ran out of books to read. I switched to reading online. A few years later, I couldn't find anything new. Even if I was lucky enough to stumble across something, I felt like I'd already read it before. When I was in 8th grade, coincidentally when I discovered musicians without a twang in their tone, my English teacher introduced the entire class to writing. We spent a third of the time we were allotted in her room every single day writing. I loved it. My friends tried to convince me to read my work to the room but I never could find the confidence. At first I wrote whatever came to my mind. Sometimes it was poems but most of the time I scribbled out stories. They were never complete but the beginning of a plot was always there. My freshman year of high school, I realized I could write the novels that I so desperately craved. I could be the romance author that would create stories that were good but weren't always the cliches that seemed to fill every shelf. Throughout the journey that is high school, I lost my urge to write. For what reason, I am unaware. So when I was accepted to college, I wasn't exactly searching for a writing course. But when I stumbled across one, I decided to give it another shot,"

The room was silent for a moment, and Aurie looked down at her nails, anxious as to what the men could have to say. Ciel was the one to break the silence.

"Aurelia, why were you so nervous over that? I would be showing that off bambola, that was great."

"Thanks," The girl still didn't look up from her hands.