Page 69 of Dream (Fighting Fate)

Carly gave me cheeky smile. “Josh’s in love.”

I rolled my eyes. I could retaliate by sharing the stuff she just talked to me about, but chances were, Mom and Dad already knew about it. We’d learned the importance of sharing things a few years ago.

Mom paused, tray still in hand, and stared at me, blinking once with confusion. “You are?”

“No, Mom. I’m not in love.”

Carly raised one perfectly sculptured eyebrow knowingly. “Oh, I think you are. You just don’t want to admit it.”

“Who’s in love?” Dad asked, joining the circus.

“Josh is.”

“No one.”

Carly and I answered simultaneously.

All three of them looked at me with a mixture of confusion and expectation. Knowing there was no way I was going to get out of this alive, I exhaled and prepared myself for the coming third-degree. And then I started filling them in on my summer.

Chapter 41

Olivia

Settled into the couch in my new apartment, I tapped my pencil on the edge of my laptop as I chewed on my lower lip. Pictures moved through my head, words flowing, scenes unfolding. Tucking the pencil behind my ear, I sent my fingers flying over the keyboard, releasing the words, pausing to quickly read them before continuing again.

This was the third time I’d written this scene since I’d decided to convert it to a screenplay.

Hitting enter, I sat back and smiled. That scene had been bothering me for a long time. There had always been something missing from it, but I could never work out what it was. As I looked at it now, freshly shuffled and embellished, I knew I couldn’t get it any more perfect than that. Picking up my coffee—my third for the day—I took a minute to simply sip and gaze out the window, happiness warming my heart.

Writing had always been like that for me. Even when I’d barely known how to write. Back then, it was mostly drawn pictures with a few scattered words, but they still told a story. It was my salve. It didn’t matter what turmoil I was in, I knew I could always lose myself in my imagination. So, that’s exactly what I’d been doing for the last three weeks—since Josh had vanished from my life.

As I sipped, I wondered what he was doing now. Of course, he’d mentioned heading to Florida to start filming his new movie, so I assumed he was there now, but I couldn’t be sure, really. Occasionally, I thought to jump online and take a peek at the entertainment sites, but I refused to lower myself to reading that sort of garbage again. Especially after the way Josh had spoken about how relentless the paparazzi could be. No, I was not going to go there. Even if my life depended on it.

The sound of a key in the lock had me turning for the front door. Samantha, my new workmate and roomy, flew in like a whirlwind, hair mussed and a smile as goofy as a clown’s stretching across her face. “Hi!”

I bit back a laugh at her disheveled appearance as she dumped her bags by the door and came to slump down across from me, Starbucks in hand.

She huffed. “Sorry I’m late.”

Sam was always late.

Shrugging out of her cardigan, she nodded to my laptop. “Are you working on the same thing?”

I’d mentioned to Sam the day I moved in that I loved writing. When she expressed a similar interest, we’d immediately hit it off. Over the past few weeks, we’d more or less become inseparable, spending not only our work hours together, but a lot of our time at home too. I hadn’t told her everything about the book I’d written, but she knew the gist of it. And she knew I’d been playing around with converting it into a screenplay.

I wasn’t exactly sure why I’d decided to convert it. It was something that came to me after Josh had left the beach house. After seeing the script he’d been studying for his newest movie, it brought back memories of the module I’d studied back in Africa. I remembered how much I’d enjoyed learning about script writing. Back then, it wasn’t something I thought I could do. I mean, I had no knowledge of the movie industry at all. I’d never been behind the scenes of one being made, and I had no idea how it all came together. I still didn’t, of course. But the idea intrigued me. I knew nothing would ever come of it. I wasn’t doing it for that reason. I was simply enjoying myself. And as far as I was concerned, that was the main point of doing anything in life.

“I am. I’m almost finished,” I said, a little proud of myself.

“Can I read it when you’re done?” she asked, eyes wide and hopeful.

I considered her question. Was I ready for someone to read it? I thought I might’ve been. “Did you want to read the book or the screenplay?”

She pursed her lips in contemplation. “Book, I think.”

I swallowed my nerves. “Okay, but you have to remember that it’s not edited yet. It’s still pretty raw.”

“Of course,” she said, nodding so quick I was worried her head was going to fall off.

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