[Complete] [18+]
In the picturesque lakeside town, the calm waters mask the storm within Juniper Jenkins' heart. Betrayed and broken by her cheating boyfriend, she flees to the sanctuary of her friend's lakeside house, to work remotely for the summe...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
"Okay, here it is," I say, holding my book in both my hands. He reaches for it, but I pull it back slightly. "There are probably a lot of typos and errors."
"That's fine," Wells says, reaching for it again, but I pull it back once more.
"And it's only the first draft, so there are probably a lot of plot holes too," I continue, biting my lip.
He reaches for it again. "I'll tell you if I find any."
I pull it back, again. "Also, I'm not sure about the ending. I'm still debating it."
He chuckles softly, hands resting on his hips. I glance up at him, catching his smile. His left eye bears a black hue now, not as dark as expected, but still noticeable.
Guilt gnaws at me for what happened the other day. He keeps reassuring me not to worry, but I know it's my fault. I should have communicated with Beckett sooner. I regret it now, not answering his calls earlier. None of this would have happened if I had just talked to him.
"Are you going to let me read it?" He asks, playfully impatient.
He watches me, observing as I contemplate my thoughts. I cradle the manuscript back up against my chest and hug it tightly. "You know, on second thought..." I start to turn on my heel. "...I really don't think–"
"Hey," Wells interrupts with a laugh. He grabs my hips, preventing me from moving farther. Drawing me close to his chest, he attempts to pry the manuscript from my grasp. "You're the one who told me you wanted me to read it in the first place."
"I think I changed my mind," I grunt, struggling against his strength, which proves to be too much for me.
"Juniper," he says, pausing in his efforts.
With a resigned sigh, I relent, releasing my grip on the manuscript. "Fine." And finally, I pass it back to him over my shoulder and I turn around to face him again.
Letting him read my book makes me nervous. Articles are one thing—they're based on real-life events. But this book, this story, it's all made up from my imagination. Wells has never been easy on me when it comes to writing, and the idea of him reading into a world I've created in my mind and possibly hating it is nerve-wracking.
But, strangely, he's the first person I want to read it.
He holds onto the side of my hips, leaning in to plant a tender kiss on my lips. "Thank you," he murmurs softly.
Tucking the manuscript under his arm, he grabs his coffee cup, and I nervously chew on my bottom lip, watching as he takes a sip and heads toward the living room.
"You coming?" His voice drifting from the hallway.
"Yeah," I respond as my whole body sighs, grabbing my coffee from the counter. He's already seated on the couch, taking another sip of his coffee and setting it down on the coffee table as he flips open the first page of the manuscript.
