Page 4 of For the Plot
“Oh definitely, you would make way more money than Will.” James nodded sagely, his hazel eyes barely containing his mirth, before the three of them all looked at each other and burst into laughter. I huffed in annoyance, and got up to pretend to storm off. I only got one step before Will grabbed me and pulled me back down, tucking me under his arm between him and Collins.
“Come on, Nikki. For real." His voice took on a more serious tone. “Is there something any of us can do to help you? You still haven’t told us what caused this writer’s block.”
My face heated, and I fiddled with my rings. James chimed in, “Yeah, if you tell us what’s going on, maybe we could help?”
“Uhhh…” I hedged. “It’s nothing specific, this one is just escaping me right now.”
I love all three of my guys, and we talk about a lot of shit. But telling them that I couldn’t write because someone had called my sex scenes terrible was just way too embarrassing. They were supportive of me, and not at all weird about the fact that I wrote romance like some men could be, but they weren’t on Bookstagram or BookTok, so luckily they would never see or hear about The Review. Collins sometimes read romance books, but he was expressly forbidden from reading mine. I don’t think I could ever look him in the eye again if he read a sex scene I wrote.
“I stared at my computer all day, so I just need a break for right now. I’ll try again tomorrow.”
Will tightened the arm over my shoulder, hugging me to his side, while Collins squeezed my knee.
“We’re here for you, and we have faith in you. You’ll get there eventually,” Collins reassured me.
James leaned around from the other side of Will and patted the top of my head. “Yeah, don’t worry, kid, we’ll find a way to help you.”
I snorted. “I’m literally a month older than you, dumbass.”
“Only in age.”
I burst out laughing. “You are such an idiot.”
“Maybe, but I got you laughing didn’t I?” He smirked, leaning back into the couch. All three of them were absolutely ridiculous, and I wouldn’t trade them for the world.
The four of us settled into the couch, commenting on the action in the sow until James stood up. “Alright, I gotta get to the bar for my shift. I'll see you weirdos tomorrow.”
After he left, we watched another episode ofDrag Race. Someone on the show made a sex joke, and Collins suddenly lit up and turned to me. “I’ve got it!” he exclaimed, raising a finger up.
“You’ve got what?”
“The idea to fix your writer’s block!” I raised a brow at him in expectation, and the grin on his face turned evil, “You just need to get laid.”
I laughed, shoving his shoulder. It was more of a running joke in our house, since they all knew I never had, and it never bothered me. It was all in good fun, and I knew if I ever got uncomfortable with it, they'd immediately stop when I told them to.
I outwardly dismissed his joke, but it got me thinking. Could that be the solution to everything?
If I finally had sex, I wouldknow. Maybe being able to translate that experience to the page would help me to actually write a sex scene that wouldn’t get shredded apart online. I'd feel like less of an imposter writing about things I didn’t know.
And there wass also the fact that Iwantedto have sex. It just… hadn’t happened for me yet. There was no traumatic past or anything, but the combination of me being a fat, nerdy, awkward girl growing up and being demisexual just hadn’t presented me with a lot of opportunities.
But now? The more I thought about it, the more I thought, what was the harm in trying? Well, there was a lot of harm that could fall on a woman trying to have sex with a stranger, let’s be real. But I'm sure there was some way to go about it relatively safely. And at this point I was desperate and willing to try anything.
With the beginnings of a new plan in motion, I bid the guys farewell and went to my room to change and head out to the bar.
I was doing this.
3
James
A Bar Song (Tipsy) - Shaboozey
Inoddedmyheadin greeting at Sasha, my boss and the owner of The Sleepy Siren, as I entered the break bar five minutes before my shift started. It was only eight-ish, so the barwas still dead, only the usual drunk or two stashed away in their corners, nursing their nth drink of the day. I’d been working here for four years now, since I first moved into the apartment, and I loved my job. So much so that I had quickly made my way up to the role of Assistant Manager. A job where I got to wear what I want, drink a few sips on the job, and even flirt a little with the customers? Dream job right there.
Sometimes, when I really thought about it, I couldn’t believe it had only been four years that I'd been living with my roommates. No sane person would move into an apartment with three strangers, but then again, I had never claimed to be sane. And now those three weirdos were the most important people in my life.
I grabbed my apron off the hook, slinging it around my soft waist, double-checking for my notepad and pen. I snatched a clean towel, tucking it into the apron pocket before clocking in and walking out behind the bar.
