Writing in Plain Sight

Chapter Two

     After my adventure to the park, I make myself some Ramen and sit down to watch Biggest Loser. My friends all think it's so weird to like this show, but I like it for the cheesiest reason ever. All the people on the show are achieving their dreams, they're reaching their goals. And I think that's amazing, because that's exactly what I'm trying to do.

     I really want to become a writer, but everyone knows that; it's no secret, but no one knew that I was willing to move across the country to grab a job as a writer's apprentice. I like living in New York, though. You have to get used to the hustle, but in the end, it's definitely worth it.

    After finishing BL, I pull down The Hunger Games from the shelf, open up to a random page and start reading. 

     —“I can feel Peeta press his forehead into my temple and he asks, 'So now that you've got me, what are you going to do with me?' I turn into him. 'Put you somewhere you can't get hurt.”

     Call me cliche, but I love Peeta and Katniss together. Peeta just has unconditional love for Katniss, and he'll be with her through anything and everything. That's the kind of man I want, someone who won't give up on me no matter how annoying I get. 

     I've confided about this to Lily, and all she says is that perfect boys only exist in books, which is obviuosly why I read books. They're a blessing and a curse; the perfect man in the book always makes you want to experience love at first sight, have those perfect moments on the beach, and everything the couples in books do.

     Peeta and Katniss in The Hunger Games. Bella and Edward in Twilight. Hermione and Ron in Harry Potter. Four and Tris in Divergent. All these books are made-up worlds with made-up people that readers want to have in real life. But love doesn't work that way, it's hard, and no perfect guy is willing to put in the work.

     It all depresses me, how much I want a flawless, effortless love connection. I don't want to work for it, but I will. I'll do whatever it takes. 

     After my semi-motivational self-pep talk, I go over to my iPhone speakers, connect my phone and blast State of Grace by Taylor Swift. It's about falling in love in the perfect way, where everything is right and nothing can ever go wrong. 

     Suddenly, the music stops because I'm getting a call.

     "Hello?" I answer without looking at the Caller ID.

     "Is this Emily Anne?" The voice asks. 

     "Yeah..." I say cautiously. This isn't a voice I recognize. 

     "Oh, okay! This is Trevor, from high school!" He says.

     I laugh. "No way!" 

    Trevor is my ex-boyfriend. People used to ask us if we were dating after we broke up, because we remained such good friends. The breakup was a mutual thing, we both thought we had more of a friendly relationship and less of a romantic one.

     "I haven't seen you since senior year!" He says. "How have you been?"

     "Oh, well, nothing, except I've moved to New York..." I say, waiting his reaction.

     "Wait. New York?"

     "Yeah, New York City. Manhattan."

     "Nope, there is no way that's possible. I moved to Manhattan."

     "No freaking way!" I shout. 

     "I still don't believe that we both moved here after college," he says.