Not the woman who blew my mind when she walked into the café earlier.
Let’s do this.
F I V E: Friends
Stormi’s POV
Sebastian and I had grown closer to each other while working on my book together over the last three months. He would come over and we would work two days a week up in the loft office, or at the coffee shop in town. We would talk, and not just about the book. We would talk about our lives, our past, and our dreams for the future, the types of things I was thinking about doing for book two, and making lists so I could start book two while he was editing book one. He even asked if he could join me on a few of my adventures. He had slowly started becoming a good friend, someone I could talk to with ease, no judgment, no hate, nothing.
I still had walls up after being so betrayed by all my family and Jason, but I was slowly getting better. I found a therapist, some self-help books of my own, and switched from coffee to tea. I was trying to stay calm and work on getting through my breakdowns and anxiety without the use of meds. I didn’t want to take them unless I had to. I was still managing six different clients at work, and was in the middle of a large project for one of the bigger companies. It had been close to nine months since I had gone no contact with my family and Jason.
My therapist and I talked about how nervous I was about the book release that was coming up this Friday. We decided to use my pen name and keep my photo out of the book. We also cited all the photos in the book as being taken by my pen name, again, not wanting to draw any kind of attention towards me. I felt this could be a huge relief for me to get it out in the open and to help others who’d been wronged by their families. This was a healing journey for me, also. Not just going to therapy, but writing, cooking classes, photography classes, poetry readings,traveling, everything I had done so far, and would continue to do.
My therapist helped me see that I was doing this for myself, setting the boundaries and cutting contact. I was finally standing up for myself. Giving myself a voice. Finally working through all the anger I have towards Story and my parents. The anger towards my parents for always putting Story first. For not being there for me because ‘Story needs us’ or ‘Story needed this, can’t you understand?’ The anger towards Story because she was just a bitch her whole life, bullying me, taking things she knew I loved or wanted, such as friends, boys I liked, my fiancé, clothes from my closet, etc. She could never just let me be happy or have something, including attention.
Overcoming this mountain of shit was hard when you had been conditioned to think one way for so long. It took a lot of mental fortitude to work on changing your thought process, convincing yourself that you’re worth it and deserve people's time, affections, and attention. I was hoping the tips and tricks my therapist had taught me, and also the affordable things I tried, would help someone else if they were in a similar situation as this.
Friday rolled around quicker than I was prepared for. Time seemed to slip through my fingers faster than I could keep track of when I was working on work and the book. I was sitting on the loft’s covered porch, in one of the oversized hanging egg chairs with a blanket wrapped around me, drinking a cup of ginger honey tea, as a cool summer rain came pouring down around me. I saw a few critters running to get back to their burrows as the rain came down heavily. I barely heard the crunch of the gravel under tires over the rain as I caught a glimpse of Sebastian’s car pulling into my driveway. I stood, going to the railing, and saw an umbrella pop out of the car,and he came up to the front door. He tilted the umbrella to see me standing there watching him. I waved him up, knowing the doors were unlocked, and he hurried inside. I moved over to the little couch in the corner that I was lucky enough to find at a discounted price at the thrift store last month, and tucked up against the house, away from the heavy drops that fell from the sky. He came out and joined me.
“It’s already available,” he said softly and my breath hitched in my throat, “It went on sale at midnight, and it’s being advertised to everyone who’s searched self-help or ‘how-to’ books,” he handed me a slice of lemon pound cake I hadn’t seen him bring out. He waited until I took a bite of it before dropping the biggest bomb of all.
“It’s only eleven in the morning, and you’ve already sold three hundred copies. Only eleven hours of being live as an e-book and a paperback. The hardback copies go live tomorrow, and the audiobook will be coming out next month.” He said, and I tried not to choke on my pound cake as I processed the information. I honestly couldn’t believe it. That was…huge. Much bigger than I thought I would be, and it was only the beginning.
I thought I'd reach a handful of people, but nothing like this.
He smiled at me. You know that smile that a guy gives you when he’s proud of something you accomplished? That smile. It absolutely made my heart melt a little more each time I saw it. Each time I got that smile, I knew instinctively that he savedthatsmile,just for me. I had noticed once when we were at the café, if someone called him, he would have a very stern expression on. If a woman approached him, he kept a respectable distance from them, not giving away many expressions.
I could admit it. Sebastian was a very attractive man. He was tall, probably six-foot-three, maybe six-four, with long blonde hair that came down past his shoulders, though when he was working, he kept it pulled up into a bun on top of his head, but when he wasn’t, he left it down, and my god, he looked like Thor. If we were taking a class together, purely for the sake of my book, he usually pulled his hair up into a higher ponytail. And he wore these wire-framed, round glasses when he did his editing or computer work. He explained that the first time I froze and looked confused when I saw him in them that they had blue lenses to protect his eyes if you stared at a screen a lot. Which we did, but I think they just make him look sexy. Like, a hot, muscular man in a library with an old book, sexy.
I’d never tell him that, though. We were professionals and friends, and I didn’t know that I could fully trust him yet. It had only been three months of knowing him. I’d been with Jason for two years, and he’d been betraying me for half that time with my sister. My whole family knew. How did I trust my own judgement again? All the self-doubt aside, he smiled at me.
Or when his parents and little brother called.
“I think this book of yours is going to blow up. I think it’s going to be insanely popular with all kinds of people, mainly because it’s not written in clinical terms and things that people don’t understand. Plus, all the things people can try once they get themselves going, or if they just need to stay busy? You were on to something. We might even get requests for interviews, which could be difficult since we’re using a pen name.” He watched me as I watched him. I could still feel his eyes on me as I looked back out to the landscape in front of us, listening to the rain coming down on the tin roof above us.
I needed a break from his handsome face and relaxed attire. I had just gotten my eyes and mind used to him introusers and a button-down shirt, looking every bit the dressed-down Pinkerton, but now I had to try to process seeing him in this look. This…summer lumberjack look. My heart wasn’t sure I could handle it. He graced my presence with boot-cut jeans, work boots, and a cream-colored Henley shirt that hugged every muscle on his torso. His jeans hugged his thighs like they weren’t tree trunks themselves. I wasn’t sure my heart could handle it. He looked so good. I took a sip of my tea, trying to calm my racing heart.
Racing only from the sales I’d gotten so far.
And the thought of possibly doing interviews.
“What does Alex think of doing interviews?” I asked, needing to get my mind as far off the thoughts swirling in my head about how that shirt was almost more erotic than seeing him shirtless might be.
“He said as long as we use your pen name, it shouldn’t be a problem.” I nodded thoughtfully, trying to figure out how we could do interviews without showing my face. Maybe a mask? Hair in the way like Sia?
Alex was his lawyer and also his best friend. They’d gone to college together, where they met and became semi-friends. Sebastian said it wasn’t until sophomore year and they were living off campus, as roommates again, that they became good friends. He was very nice, friendly in a detached sort of way, and Alex is very protective of Sebastian. I think it’s because of what he went through with his late fiancée. The first time I met Alex, he kept giving me the stink eye like I was some kind of leech looking to make a profit off Sebastian. Which, I guess, technically I was, but I just wanted him to publish my books.
I wasn’t trying, or hoping, for anything else. I knew I was in absolutely no condition, mentally, to try anything with anyone. It had only been nine months. I was still too raw.
Maybe one day.
One day, I would meet the right guy, and I would be able to have my happily ever after. But, first things first, I needed to make this book and the next successes. I knew I’d drifted from whatever he was saying, getting lost in my head and the steady thumb of the rain on the roof and falling on the leaves on the forest floor.
“When do you want to start on book two?” I jumped slightly, caught off guard by his voice, but quickly recovered, hoping he hadn’t noticed at all how awkward I was just then.
“I’ve already started a list of things I want to try. Things to help me keep finding me, the me now. Because there are two me’s. The one from before, and the one now, in the after. And I’m different than who I was. I think the biggest thing that’s helped me start to move past the trauma was forcing myself back out there, in a new place, tryingeverything. I want to do everything at least once. It’s the only way I can see to help me move past the betrayal. Because I want to feel semi-normal again. I want to trust people again. I want to feel like there is someone else in this world other than my best friends, who are like the sister and mother I always wanted, in this world, who I can trust, and lean on, and talk to, and hang out with.” I don’t know why all of that poured out of me, but I can’t exactly take it back and make him unhear the ranting I just did. I just…think I’m trying to trust him with this little bit. If he can handle that tiny bit, maybe he’d be open to more. Is that my thought process? I made such good progress.
“Let’s hear this list,” he said, with a smile on his face, sounding way too chipper for eleven in the morning. Getting up, I reach just inside the door to my desk, grabbing a composition notebook off the top of the stack. There were at least five there. One for short stories, one for smutty stories, a blank one, and two for my ‘Finding Myself’ ideas.
