Rays of Hope

Chapter Two

Chapter 2: Ray’s POV

I wake up to the most annoying sound, but I notice it’s not my alarm clock. Instead it is an incoming call. I take my phone off the counter near my bed, and adjust my eyes to the brightness before answering it. It’s my agent.

“Hello?” I can tell my voice most likely sounds groggy but I don’t really care. The voice on the other side quickly starts to blabber.

“Ray? Oh my God, I’ve been trying to reach you for a week! Where have you been?” She sounds angry.

“I’m sorry Jen, I’ve been trying to find some inspiration and I can’t do that if you keep distracting me.” I say, annoyed. I’m not technically lying, I have been trying to find inspiration, just very slowly.

“Ray you sound like you’ve been sleeping for a good twelve hours. Do you seriously mean to tell me you still haven’t thought of anything to write about? I told you, your publisher wants a manuscript by next month!” I can tell that her anger is growing.

“Okay, okay,” I cave. “I won’t sleep until I at least have a good idea” I say, then quickly say my goodbyes before she can say anything else. I don’t need anymore nagging, for I am already stressed out and tired.

Trudging to the bathroom, I take a long shower, wanting to escape the real world for a while. Once I get out, I head to the kitchen and make myself some breakfast. I finish quickly, brush my teeth, and head out the door for my interview. I hope the interviewer doesn’t ask me what I plan on writing next…

 ****

Arriving at the studio, I was greeted by a makeup artist, who was jumping in my face. After telling her I was not interested in any of that goop on my face, I lightly pushed her away.  

Once the lady leaves me alone, I walk over to where I had spotted Denise, the woman who was going to interview me. This interview could be amazing for getting the word out there about my books. But it also could be horrible, if anyone learns that I don’t have any ideas for my future book.

Being ushered into a chair located on the stage, I sat down and sent a smile towards the host. She smiled back, and introduced me to both the live studio audience, and all of those who were watching on their television’s at home. Throughout the whole interview, I manage to not talk about my ‘upcoming book’ at all.

 ****

After completing the interview, which went off without a hitch, I head back to my car, ready for the drive home.

Once I arrive at my penthouse’s location, I exit the car, which is a shining, new silver Tesla Model S. Pulling open the backdoor by the handle, I reach in and grab my Chinese takeout. Turning around, I juggle my keys, a few copies of my published book that I was using in the interview, and my takeout. Not able to see over the brown bag, I stumble over the curb, and straight into the body of another person.

Avery’s POV

I was just walking to my apartment when a slightly muscled body bumps unceremoniously into my small frame, causing me to trip. He doesn’t even try to help me as I’m falling and once I hit the ground, I look up. I was appalled that someone would be as careless as to bump that roughly into someone. And the fact that he did not even attempt to help me up or catch me angered me even further.

Looking up at him, I watch as he looks down at me in shock, like he was just only seeing me now.

“Are you going to apologize?” I abruptly ask him, trying to sound larger than I am. I had to stand up for myself in this big city.

He seemed amused by my tone, which only irritated me more. Biting my tongue to refrain from cursing at him, I stand up and brush off any particles and flecks of the dirt and dust laying all over the city streets here in New York. He stares intently at me, causing me to think I have something on my face. Then I realise that he is just studying me. This causes me to wonder about him, as he could have just up and left me lying here on the ground. It was obvious that he cared about people, yet he let me fall to the ground. He was studying me closely, like he could read all of my secrets. It made me feel shy once again.

Just as I’m picking my bag off the ground to leave, he opens his mouth.

“What’s your name?” he asks, still studying me.

“Why should I tell you?” I stubbornly retort. He chuckles, but asks me once again. Sighing, I relent and hesitantly tell him my name.

“I’m Avery,” I mumble towards his direction, sending a shy smile, forgetting for a moment about just how rude he had been to me. The strange man doesn’t compliment my name or tell me his own name, he just nods and begins to walk away. Brushing my knees once more, I grab my bag and start to follow him.

“It’s really rude to leave in the middle of a conversation you know,” I say matter-of-factly. He doesn’t answer and just keeps walking, ignoring me completely. My anger gets the best of me and I grab his arm at the elbow.

“So you’re just going to leave?” I ask with a puzzled expression. “You force me to give you my name and you do not have the dignity to do the same?”

“I didn’t force you to tell me your name, you chose to,” he explains, pushing my hand off of his elbow and attempting to continue on his way.

“I think you did. You asked me insistently more than once!” I shoot back at him, placing my hands upon my hips.  

Turning back around, he let out a deep sigh before replying with an abrupt, “Fine, my name’s Ray West.”

“I didn't ask for your last name. What, are you going to give me your life story next?”

“Well most people already know my last name so I thought I would point it out so you’d recognize me as well.”

“How would I possibly know who you are?” I exclaimed back at him, putting my hands back on my hips. “You’re a stranger!”

“Maybe to you, but not to the rest of the world. I happen to be a very famous and extremely handsome author.”

“Well I have never read your books and I have no plans to read them in the near future,” I said as I spun around and began to stomp off in the opposite direction.

As I’m walking away, I hear footsteps behind me. Now it was his turn to follow me.

“Wait!” I hear him shout from behind me. His footsteps began to catch up with mine. I spin around to face him after I feel a hand on my shoulder. My head was almost equivalent to his shoulders, and he was reaching down from his height in order to touch my shoulder. I was only four feet and eleven inches, and judging his height against myself, he looked almost to be over six feet.

“Will you have coffee with me?”