Chapter Three

"But it's the metaphor of the little boy that I'm struggling with," Danny said across the conference table from Charlie. Their handful of classmates looked on, nodding as if he'd made the most notable point. Lawson scribbled a note onto his pad. Their critique session was entering tense territory, and Charlie had to remind herself to remain calm in the face of her classmates' criticism of her short story, especially since she was incredibly proud of it. But that's what grad school did, tore you down so you could learn and be better for it. As much as it hurt, she wanted to be the best writer she could possibly be, and that meant listening to the advice of other writers who perhaps could see what she could not.

"What has you struggling, exactly?" she asked, attempting to remain detached. Her blood pressure was up, however, and she could feel a hint of sweat bead at the back of her neck. Every little sound in the room seemed amplified right down to Lawson tapping his pencil on the table two seats down. She wanted to break it but exhaled instead.

"The wildfire that takes over the city one building at a time is representative of the little boy's passion and creativity that we see spark until it takes off."

"Right. I'm with you." She nodded.

Danny pressed on. "Then, we pull back and see that he was the storyteller all along. I just think that kind of parallel and reveal has been done so many times. It's tired."

Charlie nodded, rolled her lips in, and made a note. "I hear you. I'm processing. I do think it's an element of the story that's vital, however, and I wish that—"

"No need for you to offer a response, Charlie," Dr. Stewart said. "You can ask a clarifying question or thank your classmate for the note. The session is about taking in information."

"Got it. Thank you, Danny, for the note."

He smiled and sat back. Maybe he was right. Everyone always seemed to think he was. But did he have to appear so smug about it?

"The prose is gorgeous," Emerson said, clearly attempting to inject a little bit of positivity into the discussion. You could always count on Emerson to find the rays of sunshine and hurl them at you. "I got goose bumps several times during the read because of your imagery. The rhythm is also to be admired. I mean, wow. It kept me guessing and thinking, which is what you want in a good short story."

Charlie wrote down the note, grateful for the compliment, but taking it with an Emerson branded grain of salt. "Awesome. Thank you for the note."

"True. Except it did get to be a lot," Danny said. Charlie swiveled, tensing. "And when I can see the author's footprints, it pulls me from the journey. You were trying too hard. That's how it read to me. Purposely shoving beautiful language in my face until I wanted to roll my eyes."

"Yeah, I gotta agree with Danny's assessment," Lawson said. "I felt hit over the head with the fire licking and spreading and spitting and twisting."

"Thank you for the note." She focused on her notebook and the construction of words even though their meaning didn't make a ton of sense to her right now. This was a hard one.

"Self-indulgent," Danny chimed in as if finding the characterization he was searching for. She blinked, regarded him, and contained her frustration. The critique from Danny came off incredibly harsh, and she couldn't help but wonder if he was extra-aggressive because it was her. Or maybe this wasn't about her story as much as it was about Danny retaining the title of strongest writer in the room. She'd never admit that to him, but the suspicion clawed at her daily.

Their classmate Richie joined in. He'd always been levelheaded but also trailed after the other males in the program, not quite a part of their club and aware of it. "I think the metaphor is viable. The little boy's creativity influences all those around him in the same way the fire's destruction touches everyone in the community." He turned to Charlie specifically. "But they're right in saying you're not giving the reader any credit. You don't have to drive the comparison home quite so hard." He held his thumb and forefinger close together. "Mildly insulting."

"I never intended to insult."

"No responses, Charlie."

"Yep. Understood. Thank you for the note, Richie."

The critique continued for another forty grueling minutes, and Charlie left class feeling like a beat-to-hell punching bag. Her nerves were frayed, her confidence zapped, and she wanted more than anything to stare at a wall until it all fell off her. Yet it was only the morning, and she still had a full day ahead. She'd walked into class with such hope and excitement, but the story she'd worked on tirelessly for four straight days and nights without much sleep had been shredded by her classmates in record time. That's okay. Breathe it out. High-level writing courses tended to encourage shredding, she had to remind herself. While it didn't mean the story was awful, she had to give credence to some of her colleagues' points, especially the ones they'd had in common.

"Don't take it personally for one second," Emerson said, catching up with her in front of the Modern Languages building. "If anything, the session just offered a few signposts, so the story can find its legs and run. It's good, Charlie. Really good."

"Working on getting there," Charlie said, shielding her eyes from the sun. She took her work seriously, and wading through criticism was part of the process. She had to be good enough to make it in the cutthroat writing world she was set to enter in less than a year. She also had to be strong enough to handle rejection. However, the detail that she couldn't quite reconcile was that Danny, who was supposed to be her person, had led the charge that day with gusto. He'd never been that harsh on any other classmate, ever. In fact, he'd delivered his notes with a pompous gleam in his eye that made her feel like satisfaction lurked. That had been his ego talking, probably inflated by his time at the writers' colony, and it wasn't attractive. "Can I ask a question?" She whirled around and faced Emerson, the dam breaking. "Was it just me, or was Danny not just out for blood, but my blood specifically."

"Well." Emerson took a breath and waffled. "I think Danny seemed extra-talkative today. And he had a lot of criticism to impart about a story that was honestly impressive." She shifted her weight from her right foot to her left. "You might be right."

"Thank you." She held her arm out and let it drop with a smack to her side. "So I'm not imagining things, because the look on his face, Em? The smug gratification that radiated off him with each piece of criticism he flung was so foreign and infuriating. I wanted to throw my laptop against the wall."

Emerson frowned and stepped forward. "Pause. Babe, no throwing. This is not like you."

"No. I don't think I've ever thrown anything at a wall before, but the inclination might be worth embracing today, don't you think?" The emotion flowed freely now, a strange feeling. "Why would he not have my back or at least put on the gloves first?"

"I'm not sure. But you can't let Danny get to you," Emerson added with a nod. "He's the type of guy who comes from writing royalty and knows it. He sometimes takes that as a license to throw his status around. But I really thought the story was a gem worth holding on to."

Charlie perked up. "You do? I know you like to stay on the positive, but I'm searching for your honest opinion."

"Yes. In fact, I chased you down to say I think you should submit it somewhere. Do some tweaking and send it off." She shrugged. "I have to get to work. Are you on this afternoon?"

Both she and Emerson worked part-time on campus at the library. Surrounding herself with the works of the greats had served as fantastic inspiration. "Yeah. I'm scheduled four to nine."

Emerson sent her a soft smile. "See you there. First rounds of exams are hitting, so it should be crowded."

She could imagine the reference section now. "My favorite."

Just as Emerson waved good-bye and headed across the grass mall that stretched in the shape of a rectangle across the center of campus, Danny and Lawson appeared. Conferring for a moment, Lawson offered a fist bump and jogged in the opposite direction, which left her and Danny staring at each other. He covered the short distance, making his hair bounce across his forehead, and a smile touched his eyes. "Hi, you."

"Hi." She placed a hand on her hip. "So, that was brutal."

He glanced behind him as if just then remembering the events in class. "Right. The session. I know. Hey, I was an asshole. I just got going and—"

"Couldn't stop. What's that about?" She masked her frustration, shooting for curiosity.

He let his head drop back and searched the tree branches for some sort of whispered answer. "I think I just want you to be the best writer, and sometimes I should examine my tactics a little more carefully."

"You would never have critiqued Lawson that way. Or Richie."

"That's not true."

She exhaled, not wanting to fight but believing her point was valid. "Isn't it?"

Silence reigned.

His jaw tightened. "Thank you for pointing this out to me. I will certainly work harder at how I impart my thoughts." She stared at him for a moment and watched his eyes finally soften. "But I still think you're the raddest human I know, and the most beautiful woman on the planet."

Better.

She sent him a smile back. He was a good guy but sometimes needed to be nudged back to an even playing field. He didn't always have to assert himself as the smartest person in the room, no matter how gifted the world had already decided he was. "Can we remain on the same team? Especially in critique when you know how hard those can be?"

"Yes. And we will." He ran a hand through his hair, and she watched it fall back to his forehead haphazardly. She used to think he was so cute when he did that. He still was, but the summer on her own had altered her perception somehow, equipping her with strength and independence to maybe not need him so much. The time away had given her a newfound confidence to see the world as so much bigger than just Danny McHenry. "But the metaphor is heavily hit. Lawson was right about the fire imagery, too."

She sighed. "Yeah, I know. I'm gonna rework and minimize."

"I'll take a second look if you want."

She nodded, appreciative of his willingness to help. He deviated from her in style, but his prose came right off the page. He specifically dazzled in his creative arrangement of words that took her breath away. His writing was one of the things she most admired about him. No disputing that part. "Yeah, I'd welcome that."

"I miss you," he said and exhaled slowly. "We feel distant lately, and we should work on fixing that. My body misses you, too." He stepped in to her, making it apparent. She couldn't go there with him. Not now.

"I miss you, too." But she tried to keep her voice lighthearted. Her feelings for Danny hadn't suddenly leapt back to life as soon as they'd returned from the break. They'd had sex a couple of times since, but it had been lackluster, making her search for other tethers. Their families were the main link, their shared history. With her mom gone, Danny's family was about all she had left. The water was warm by his side, and the two of them made such sense together. Their mothers had such rich history, and that knowledge nestled warmly in her heart, sanctioning her relationship with Danny. In so many ways, it made her feel like she was doing right by her mom, honoring what could almost be called a dying wish: that she ride off into the sunset with Danny.

"I want you to remember what we were like together," he said. "We can be that again."

"We can. I've been off lately." It was more than that, but her thoughts and spoken words weren't matching.

"It's okay." He was standing so close. Why did she have the urge to take a step back and put space between them? She tried not to panic. Maybe these were growing pains, and she just needed to shake it off and grow the hell up.

"But I have to go."

"I'll come over tonight. We can have some quiet us time." He meant sex, and the thought sent her down a path she didn't want to be on.

"Yeah, maybe."

"It's been a bit." He dipped his head and found her eyes.

"No. I know. It has." She glanced over her shoulder, disentangling herself. "But for now, I better get going. Busy day. I'm not sure about tonight. Let me see how much of that reading I get done for tomorrow."

"Okay." He kissed her once. "See you soon."

She slipped her hands into the pockets of her green quilted jacket, intent on taking a walk before starting the day's assignment and then heading to work. Her heart shifted uncomfortably. There had been a time when she couldn't imagine a world without her and Danny forever and always, and now she was hesitant to so much as encourage a night alone. It's not that she wasn't interested in him or not attracted to him. But there had to be more than just…this. Something new to spark excitement in her life and fill the gaps that were more and more apparent each day.

She could take up dancing. Video games. Or maybe even make a new friend.

Whatever came Charlie's way, her new plan was to embrace it, try it on, and see if it fit. She would run with the signs the universe placed in front of her, and keep her mind open to any and all open doors because the path she was on didn't seem like it was hers.

The very next opened door just so happened to be on her way into the library for her shift. Quite literally. An undergrad had run ahead of Charlie and opened the door with a flourish and a bright smile. "For you."

"Oh, awesome. Thank you," she said and met his gaze purposefully. A little young, but definitely cute with beautiful eyes.

"Anytime," he said smoothly. She enjoyed their semiflirtatious exchange and started off her shift in the circulation section with an extra dose of energy. She wasn't on the market, but the brief connection resonated, reinforcing her need for more.

An hour into her shift up front, she was called to the chaotic reference section as backup. Just like she and Emerson had theorized, it was beyond busy because anyone and everyone was gearing up for the first round of exams. Her line at the circular desk in the middle of the room was long and slow. Even though her feet ached and her brain was getting foggy, she pressed on with a smile, answering questions, directing students to particular reference books, and checking out articles and readings that professors had reserved specifically for their classes.

"Hi, there. What can I do for you?" she asked her next in line.

"Hi. I'm supposed to request the reading material for 1357: Intro to Photography."

Charlie reached behind her for the folder containing the printed article she'd already checked out to a half a dozen students that night. She raised her eyes and paused because the big brown ones looking back at her were familiar. "Taryn Ross."

"Yeah. Hey. I wasn't sure if you'd remember me." A grin bloomed on her face and made Charlie automatically happy. Well, that was something to note. She looked amazing, too. Charlie couldn't keep herself from taking in every detail. Her dark hair was down and swept to one side, resting on her right shoulder. She wore lip gloss and mascara that made her features pop without looking like she was wearing makeup. Her clothes were unremarkable on their own, jeans and a lightweight black V-neck sweater, but on Taryn they were anything but.

"You weren't sure if I'd remember you? I was literally tucking you into bed a couple weeks ago." There was something about Taryn that still grabbed her heart. She'd thought of her several times since that night and wondered when they'd run into each other again. She was so happy they had. In fact, it perked her right up from her mind-numbing shift.

Taryn laughed. "Some things never change."

"Ha. Good point." They stared at each other for a moment, and Charlie realized she was still holding the reading. "Right. So, you'll need this." She slid the sign-out sheet to Taryn. "Are you a photography major? They have a great department here."

"I'm officially a part of it. I declared last week." She shrugged. "I love finding the interesting perspectives that most people gloss over."

"When the everyday is made special." Kinda like the outfit Taryn wore. "You'll have to show me some of your photos someday."

Taryn's cheeks warmed to pink. "Let me get a little better first."

"No way. Then I can't be there for the artist's journey from the very beginning. How am I supposed to compare you to your future self without knowing where you started?"

Taryn looked thoughtful, biting her bottom lip with her brows drawn. "Do you really want to see my shots? I'm totally giving you an out if you're just being kind."

"I'm not at all kind." That pulled a laugh, and she relaxed into a smile. "I really do. Let's grab a coffee together since I've seen how you handle alcohol."

"That's fair. And really?" Taryn's smile was tentative and cute. Everything inside Charlie stood at attention, committed to this conversation one hundred percent and enjoying herself.

"Really. But it's fun how you ask me to affirm everything twice."

"I'll stop doing that. And yeah, I'd be in." Taryn looked behind her. "But I think I'm holding up your line," she whispered.

Charlie flicked a glance. "You are, and they're about to start throwing things at you."

"Terrifying." Taryn winced. "But you're on for that coffee. I'll even buy."

"It's my lucky night." She offered her best smile, aware of their unique energy.

"I hope the rest of it isn't too rough. I'll be up till at least three."

"Ouch."

"S'okay. My own damn fault. Scrawl procrastinator across my forehead and make me walk in shame."

"I'll get my lipstick. Bye, Taryn."

"Bye."

As Charlie assisted the next student with how to go about their Nexis search, she spotted Taryn at a nearby table, poring over her article. With one hand pressed to the side of her forehead, she was lost in concentration, her lips pursed. Charlie could still see glimpses of the young girl she once knew, but the present-day version was so very, very different. She walked with a certain level of confidence she didn't used to have, her movements measured as if she had all the time in the world. Was it swagger? Did Taryn now have that intangible assuredness?

"How's it going?" she asked Taryn, two hours later as she passed by with a stack of reserved books to shelve.

Taryn looked up at her, bleary eyed. "I don't think I'm cut out for this place. Pat my head and send me home."

Charlie placed a hand on Taryn's shoulder and gave it a squeeze. "Yes, you are. Just don't wait so long to cram next time." She gestured with her head to the stairs. "You know, there's a café in the basement open until midnight. Maybe you need some calories or an energy boost."

"Caffeine might save me. When do you get off?" Taryn asked, following Charlie's progress to the nearby shelf.

She checked her watch. "In about twenty minutes."

"Abandoning me."

They were becoming less formal. She enjoyed the playful back-and-forth, almost like a tennis match. "Well, some of us parcel out our schoolwork, which does this amazing thing—allows for sleep."

"Overrated. What about tomorrow?"

"For sleep? I plan to get it then, too." She sent a victorious smile. One point for her.

"No. For our coffee get-together extravaganza. If you're too busy, I get it."

"Hmm. It's Thursday, which means a full day of classes for me. I teach as well."

"You teach, too? What classes?"

"Creative Writing. First year composition." While her schedule was packed, and she'd be exhausted, she couldn't seem to pass up the opportunity for more of…whatever this was. "But I can go to the extravaganza after. Five o'clock?"

Taryn brightened, an adorable puppy all of a sudden. "Five is great. Put your number in my phone, I'll text you, and you can tell me where to meet."

She accepted the phone and typed her number. "I like the plan. Take care of yourself, little Taryn."

"The second time you've called me that." A pause. "Not as little anymore. Or didn't you notice?"

They held eye contact for an extended moment. For whatever reason, the interaction sent warmth down Charlie's spine that she didn't hate. "I actually had," she said quietly.

"Good. I'm gonna go grab that caffeine downstairs. See you tomorrow?"

"You will."

Charlie stood there watching after Taryn, struck by her remarkable and unwavering eye contact that made Charlie feel as if she could see straight into her. She wasn't sure she'd ever experienced anything like it.

She drove home with the music at an overly healthy volume, very aware that she had rebounded nicely from her uncomfortable conversation with Danny and the critique session from hell. Maybe it had been that undergrad opening the door for her with such chivalrous intention, or the steady stream of students that kept her busy shortly after. But she knew beneath it all that the reason for her improved mood were the interactions with Taryn that kept her smiling and grounded. Taryn was a little link to simpler times, and not only that, she emanated a soulful light, which Charlie found contagious. She was interested to hear more about Taryn's life since they'd last connected, what her goals were, what kind of music she listened to now, and what brand of comedy made her laugh without fail. Maybe they'd even become actual friends. Wasn't she just imagining making a new one of those? So, she'd chalk this night up to a win and work toward more just like it. The ground felt too unsteady lately, and Charlie could use all the anchors she could gather. Maybe Taryn Ross, her smokin' hot new friend, had crossed her path for a very important reason. Time would certainly tell.