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Chapter 13

Chapter 13

Delaney poured herself into her writing, perhaps hoping an escape into a fictional world could help make heads or tails of her own life. And somehow, it did help. If nothing else, it enabled her to push her own drama aside to make room for someone else's. There was one problem with the short story she had been writing into the wee hours of the night, though. As she read the unedited copy she began to see a lot of parallels to her own life. She didn't set out to write a story about him, but something in the protagonists dark glossy hair and cool blue eyes rang a little too true—as did the messy love triangle the characters found themselves embroiled in.

"When are you going to let me read this one," Fin said. He tapped the top of her laptop screen with his pencil.

"Um, it's not finished," she hedged.

"Like that's ever stopped you," he laughed. "You've been working on this for weeks and you haven't even given me a synopsis. I'm starting to take it personally." He pushed his lower lip out into an exaggerative pout.

"Get out of here." Her cheeks colored. "Try the manipulation technique on someone who'll buy it."

"Come on, throw me a bone here. It's all you ever work on these days, and the suspense is driving me crazy."

"I haven't exactly figured out how it's going to end," she said sheepishly. She felt a warm flush of blood pooling in her cheeks. Of course, it's not that her story was autobiographical, it definitely had some fiction sprinkled in. She laughed nervously at the thought of Fin reading it. Surely she hadn't meant to be so transparent, so obtuse.

"Perfect." He grinned. "I'll read it through and give you my opinion, my gut instinct on what the ending should be."

"No!" she said emphatically. She winced, realizing how deeply she'd dug herself in. Over the course of the past months she'd been friends with Fin, she'd let him read absolutely everything she'd ever written. The intimacy and complexity of their relationship surpassed anything she'd ever experienced, and she felt total security in bearing her soul to him. But this was different. This story appeared to be a subconscious rendering of a girl who was afraid of the powerful feelings evoked from her friendship with the raven-haired boy. A tragic story of life not working out as it could, of true love getting passed on because of some sticky details.

"What is it that makes this one so different?" he asked. His voice was cautious, his face transformed into a serious mask.

She met his eyes and swallowed hard. "I don't know. It just is." Her voice sounded weak.

Something changed in his eyes. He backpedaled. "It's okay, I don't have to read it." His mouth pulled down slightly at the corners.

She was tired of disappointing him, of hurting him. "Here," she said. She pushed her laptop toward him. "Before I change my mind," she said with humor, only she wasn't joking at all. Full out panic started to bubble up within her.

"Okay." He looked up at her, his azure eyes questioning her. "You sure?"

"Yeah." She was suddenly very uncomfortable. "Look, I'd better get going. My mom needs some help with Christmas stuff. Making pies..." she trailed off, unable to meet his eyes. "I hope you're still planning to stop by tomorrow."

"I assumed not, since Shane will be out of town at his grandparents house."

She started, her eyes flashing to his. "That doesn't mean Christmas is cancelled."

He laughed, caught off guard.

"It'll just be my mom and I, hopefully my dad won't be making a surprise appearance." She twisted her mouth to the side. "We'd love to have you celebrate with us, as long as it doesn't affect your family plans, of course."