Black (H.S)

Prologue

That night drive on I-40 is still fresh in my mind. After all, it is one of my most memorable nights of my life for it gave me my 5th book, which was surprisingly an international best seller. It was also a roller coaster ride of emotions, when this particular guy's life story changed my entire life.

I could see the desolated highway as I drive from Nashville to my destination, Raleigh. It has been years since I met my grandma, and I thought I'd pay her a visit. I hum to song playing on the radio, my drifting to think of the ideas I could use for my story. And my publisher wants the plot ready by the next week. I sigh to myself at the thought of the limited time given to me.

A hand waving in the pitch black surroundings and followed by an 'Excuse me!', snaps me back to reality. A guy in a peacoat, stands on the sidewalk, clearly waiting for someone to give him a lift. I pull by, and he notices me and his shoulders drop in relief. I point to the passenger seat and he makes his way over. He gets in, and grins at me.

"Thank you so much for the lift," He says, earnestly. I shrug and give him a small smile.

"So, where to?" I ask.

"I would be thankful if you drop me at Raleigh. If that's too much to ask, if you could drop me off at the border of Tennessee, also would be fine."

"Well, even I am heading to Raleigh, so I would be more than happy to give you a ride," I say. He relaxes yet again and grins.

After that, we were both silent. I wanted to make a conversation, but I am too shy. I shake my head at my shyness and concentrate on driving.

"So, what's your name?" He asks. His english accent prevailing, and his voice very low.

"I am Jahnavi," I say and look at him. He has a confused look on his face and he adds on.

"Sorry, but, Are you an African?" He questions.

I burst out in laughter at his assumption. Sure, people question my origin because of my name, but none of them thought I was an African.

"Indian, actually." I smile at him. He seems embarrassed by his question, because he blushes a little and mutters an apology.

"And you are?" I ask. He never mentioned his name.

"Pardon?"

"What's your name?"

He blinks in realisation, "Oh, right, sorry. I am Harry." He says and extends his hand to shake. I laugh and shake his hand and continue to drive with my left hand.

Again a deep silence falls between us and it feels uncomfortable. I am reminded yet again about my story plot which I have to submit. I try to make up some plots, but only to be disappointed when I can't think of anything proper. I frown to myself at this. Harry chuckles suddenly, and looks at me in an amused way.

"Deep in thought?" He asks, and raises an eyebrow. I sigh. Maybe I was showing my stress physically, for him to notice.

"Uh-huh," I nod.

"May I ask why?"

"Why do you ask?" I eyed him curiously.

He shrugged and said, "I was trying to start a conversation. And who knows, maybe I can help."

I ponder over what he said. In what way he would help me? And it won't harm to tell him. So I do.

"I am a writer. I have this contract with this publishing house to publish at least 5 books in a span of 5 years. My first book was an international best seller, but the other books just did okay. And now my publisher wants a bang-on plot for the fifth book, otherwise the contract will stop at 4 books and I will be paid less." I say.

Harry nods silently and looks outside the window. It is just a little after the midnight and the roads are still barren.

"Maybe I can help you?" Harry says suddenly.

"And how is that, Harry?" I muse. I smirk at the thought of him helping me out.

"I could help you with the plot. I have an idea that you may like."

"Oh, Yeah? Let's hear it then." Now, I am curious.

"But, I have a condition," He says and I raise an eyebrow, "You should make it into your 5th book."

Now this was something else. How can I just promise him write a whole book without even listening to the plot? I groan and ask, "Can't I decide after you tell me the story?"

He smirks and says, "Nope."

I roll my eyes at his cheeky behaviour. "Alright." I say, hesitantly.

He seems pleased with my answer as he says, "Good." And sits upright.

And during the rest of the drive, he tells me the story which starts right after this. I chose to tell the story from Adira's point of view. I feel like I can actually see the world in her eyes. The rest of the people and what happened with her- Well, I will let Adira tell you that.