The Imperfect Girl

Chp. 31- Unwritten Thoughts

[All the underlined parts are part of Adeline's story]

(Adeline's POV)

The soft hum of my laptop filled the silence of my room, the screen casting a pale glow over my face. I stared at the blank document for what felt like an eternity, willing the words to just... appear. 

I mean, usually, they flowed like water from a faucet, all smooth and satisfying. 

But right now? Right now, the faucet was broken. And dripping. Slowly. Like a painful, torturous
dripppp.. dripppp.. dripppp..

My readers were probably going insane, refreshing their browsers and clawing at their keyboards. 

Where's the next chapter?

She's late! 

Did she get kidnapped or something?

Nope. Not kidnapped. Just brain-dead.

I love my fans, truly. They're the reason I stay up at these ungodly hours, typing away until my fingers feel like they're about to fall off. 

And let's be real, I'm addicted to the comments, the love, and even the occasional 

"I'm going to cry if they don't kiss in the next chapter." 

Writing gives me life. But right now? My mind was playing a cruel trick, and it wasn't letting me form even one decent sentence.

Ugh, okay, focus, Adeline. Just start typing. It'll come. I took a deep breath, stretched my fingers, and began typing:

"In the shadows of the city, beneath the masks they wore every day, he found her... broken, but resilient. And for the first time, someone didn't see her as a challenge, but as someone who needed saving."

I blinked. 

Nope. Not that. 

This wasn't about my characters; it was about... me? 

Or someone suspiciously like me.

 And someone else suspiciously like a certain irritating, frustrating guy I couldn't seem to stop thinking about lately.

I groaned dramatically, smacked my forehead, and hit backspace with a vengeance. 

How did Damon—of all people—get into my writing? 

He was like a fly that refused to leave my space, buzzing around, stealing my focus, ruining my perfectly crafted stories with his stupid smirk.

I tried again:

"She felt his gaze on her, unwavering, like he could see right through the bravado she wore.
He saw her vulnerability, her fears.

He saw her.
But did she want to be seen?"

Ugh. No, this was worse. This was so much worse. 

It was all going downhill faster than a car with no brakes. I leaned back in my chair and covered my face with my hands. My thoughts weren't just circling back to Damon; they were setting up camp there. How was this happening?

And then... the..

The side-splitting moment when uncoordinated souls lean in, their mouths meeting in a chaotic blend of misplaced enthusiasm and sheer panic. Their synchronisation just like two clumsy dancers on a slippery floor, ultimately leaving both parties wondering if they've just shared a sweet moment of romance or inadvertently exchanged a mouthful of awkwardness worthy of a tiktok blooper reel.