Page 35 of The Producer: Aaron

Her heart is so broken that I would like to bring this guy back to life and kill him myself for making her cry like this.

“Who died, Dakota? A friend of yours?” It breaks my heart to see her like this.

She shakes her head and rests the book on the pillow. “No, Drake! Drake is dead. After seven books, he died, you know? I can’t live with this news,” she blathers, and I breathe a sigh of relief.

He’s just a fictional character. He’s just a fictional character, and I wish he were real, so I could beat him until nothing is left. All because he made her cry. I sit on the deck chair behind her and cradle her to my chest until she snuggles up and clings to my shirt. I squeeze her tightly and sink my nose into her hair, inhaling deeply and getting lost in her sweet scent. I kiss her on the head and cradle her until the sobs go away.

“I know it’s stupid,” her voice is a whisper, “but I feel awful, as if a friend of mine has died. I know he’s just a fictional character, but to me, it’s like he’s real.”

“It’s not stupid. You spent seven books living and struggling with him. Your feelings are no less real just because they are directed toward a character who doesn’t exist in everyday life,” I whisper as I hold her in my arms.

“Don’t you think I’m a stupid little girl?” she asks me uncertainly, her nose clogged with all the tears she has shed.

“I think the author has succeeded in what I try to do everyday: to involve the reader to the point of making them live the emotions as if they were true.”

“Do you try to make people cry? You’re cruel!” She bursts into half a laugh.

I smile and hold her closer to me, losing myself in the shape and warmth of her body. She is so perfect in my arms I never want to let her go.

“I could not live off my work if I didn’t arouse emotions in the viewer. This leads the person to continue watching a show, episode after episode. Whether it’s joy, anger, grief, or lust, no TV show would survive if it didn’t elicit emotions. No one wants a boring life without jolts, even if it is the fictitious one of a book or a movie.”

“So you don’t think it’s stupid?”

I grab her chin and force her to look me in the eye.

“I have many adjectives to describe you. Intelligent and fascinating are just the first ones that come to mind, but stupid is not really in my vocabulary when it comes to you,” I confess.

I get lost in those blue eyes swollen with tears, her little red nose, her lips bent in a suffering grimace. She is beautiful enough to take your breath away, even when crying. These are the emotions I was talking about, aren’t they? Those that make life appear less dull. The ones that make your heart pump in your chest and turn off your brain from any rational reasoning. The ones that put you on autopilot and let instinct guide you to what you want.

My instinct tells me to kiss her. Hold her in my arms and sink my tongue into her mouth until she forgets all the tears, the suffering, and the death of a character who made her suffer. Yet, the part of me that holds me back is stronger than evenmy instinct. I clench my arms around her, place my lips on her forehead, and let my rational part take over again.

I observe Serena wandering around the Venice Beach skatepark like a woman studying her surroundings for her next conquest. There are several people out with their skateboards. Mostly males of our age and younger. My friend looks at the shirtless ones as if she’s feasting on their abs. Some of them have noticed us behind the barrier, dressed like we have never seen a skateboard.

I lower the front of my cap over my eyes and put on my sunglasses. I don’t want them to recognize me and start chatting, as often happens when I’m out with her. I agreed to go out with Serena because the idea of staying at home all Saturday with Aaron was embarrassing. After he found me crying the other night and held me close to him until I calmed down, it became hard to hide that I’m attracted to him. We’ve crossed that fine line that divides the working relationship from something friendlier so many times I don’t even know where the border is anymore.

I think he suspects I like him since I was not drunk this time when I threw my arms around his neck and rested my head on his shoulder, inhaling his perfume like my life depended on it. I felt him stiffen when I touched his skin with my lips, but he squeezed even tighter immediately after.

This dance between us, where the attraction is so evident that it can be felt, but neither of us dares to take a step, is exhausting. I know that if we cross that line, it would be impossible to go back, which is why neither of us dares to take that step first. I needed a day away from him to think lucidly again.

“The blond one is mine,” Serena mumbles with a mischievous smile on her lips.

I was so lost in thinking about Aaron that I didn’t notice that two guys are getting closer to us. The blond is shirtless and has sculpted abs, surfer vibes, and a cheeky smile. The other boy, with curly dark hair, seems a little more shy and thinner than his friend, wearing a Super Mario shirt, and seems embarrassed when his friend leans on the railing opposite us.

“I saw that you were interested in my abs, so I thought I’d bring them here so you can also touch them, not just admire them.” He shows off a smile so mischievous that it becomes arrogant. Serena doesn’t seem to notice and reaches out a finger, sliding it down the guy’s skin without ever taking her eyes off his.

The scene is so cringy that I can’t help but look away, annoyed. I glance at the blond’s friend, who lowers his embarrassed gaze like he wants to disappear instantly rather than be here watching them.

“I’m glad you did because I wanted to find out if they were as inviting up close,” Serena meows.

I inhale deeply and bite my tongue so as not to comment on this scene. Most of the time, she is a funny girl who pulls me out of my shell and makes me try things I would never have the courage to do, but there are certain moments when her being over the top goes from being cute to being vulgar. This is one of those.

“So, am I to your liking?”

“You are better than I expected,” she whispers conspiratorially.

The image of Aaron, of his sculpted physique, appears in my mind in a flash, and I can’t help but notice the contrast between the class of the man I live with and this guy. Are all the boys my age so irritating? My face must be disgusted because when I look at his curly friend, he shrugs with a grimace that says, “I know he is an idiot. We can’t do anything about it.” His expression is soembarrassed that I smile.

My reaction seems to attract Serena’s attention, who takes it as my interest in the other guy.

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