1

   I had thought leaving Virginia behind for Manhattan, Michigan, would solve my problems. I had thought I could leave behind who I used to be. I had thought I might be better in Manhattan than I ever was in my Podunk hometown.

   But I was wrong. So I had a big contract with Sawyer Publishing. So I could afford a nice place and a fast car. I was still basically friendless. I was still depressingly single; my one-night stands never turned into anything worth forming into a relationship. I was still utterly worthless.

   I made my way quietly into Garvey’s, the little family-run coffee shop on Main Street. I’d discovered it by accident my first day in town, and, five months later, it had become a habit to come there and write. So it was no surprise to see my editor, Matt Jacobs, relaxing on one of the couches with a mocha espresso and a cookie.

   “Hey, Matt. What’s up?” I asked on my way to the counter.

   “They wanted me to tell you they need your book by tomorrow afternoon, Jazz. They didn't't’t say why. They just said things have changed, and they need it before your deadline,” he replied uncomfortably.

   We became fast friends once he became my editor and spent hours bonding over books, energy drinks, and black coffee. I still thought maybe he was as desperate for friendship as I was; there was no way someone like him would consider spending any time outside of work with someone like me. I was worthless. He was going places.

   “My deadline isn't't’t for another three weeks,” I told him, my forehead wrinkling in confusion.

   I definitely hadn't't’t expected to be good enough for them to want my book early. Or maybe they were just desperate. I really hoped it was the first one; I didn't’t need reminded again of how little value I had.

   “I know. They know too. I reminded them that you still had a lot to get done. But they want it by tomorrow,” Matt sighed.

   I cussed under my breath. There was no way I could get a book that was barely half-finished done in twenty-four hours.

   “I'm not Superman, Matt. Or a magician. I can’t just snap my fingers and make a finished book appear out of thin air, ready for you to check,” I groaned.

  I plopped next to Matt on the couch, triple espresso in hand. I was gonna need all the caffeine I could get my hands on from the looks of it. And a miracle.

   “How much more do you have?” Matt asked.

   “Um, a little over half. It’d take me a couple days or a week , tops, to get it ready for you to edit,” I replied, raking my black hair from my face.

   “Great. Did you bring your laptop?”

   “Always. Let me drink a little of this before I start so what I type actually makes sense.”

   Matt knew better than to push me. He’d read whole chapters I’d been forced to write while half-asleep and knew how worthless my writing was when I was tired. I also knew the thought of my sleep-deprived nonsense never failed to amuse him.

   “Let’s get this party started then,” Matt grinned mirthlessly.

   I also knew he hated pushing me like this.

   I wrote until the coffee shop became packed with their morning rush and was too loud for me to concentrate.

   “How much more do you have left?” Matt asked as we left the coffee shop.

   “I'm a quarter of the way through. I should have it ready to edit by six? If I push myself,” I replied, shouldering my laptop bag.

   “Come over to my place. It’ll save you an email.”

   His house was only a block away from where we were. It would be better, in my mind, to go there than to try navigating Manhattan’s icy streets to get home.

   “I may end up crashing on your couch,” I remarked as I fell into step beside him.

   “I think that might be a good idea. This won’t do us any good if you freeze to death on your way home,” Matt replied.

   “You know you’d miss me. Hey, um, have you met the new girl yet?”

   “Really, Jazz? She hasn't’t even been there a week, and you’re already wanting to sleep with her.”

   “I don’t even know what she looks like or acts like. She might be mean. Or taken. Or whatever. Dude, you know I'm getting really tired of the whole one-night stand thing.”

   I hated Matt wasn't’t afraid to scold me for sleeping with everyone. I knew I was wrong, but I wanted to stop. I didn't’t want someone else telling me I needed to change. I knew that. I just didn't’t know how to get started. It didn't’t help that none of the people were interested in anything but having sex with me. They always turned me down whenever I tried asking whenever they were available again or for their number.

   “I'm not helping you. You’ve slept with how many people in the office?” Matt informed me.

   “Shut up. I thought it would turn into something, okay?” I snapped defensively.

   “I’ll drop it.”

   “Good.”

   Three hours, 186 pages, and three energy drinks later, my laptop was on Matt’s lap as he read over my finished work. I didn't’t think I had ever been this tired before.

   “Do you care if I make some coffee?” I asked, stretching carefully.

   “Go for it. I’ll be heading out in about an hour, so you’ll have the place to yourself,” Matt replied.

   “Hot date?”

   My smirk faded when he nodded. I hadn't’t expected that answer.

   “Who is it?” I asked.

   I hoped I sounded nonchalant. But I hated that he could get girls to go on actual dates and all I could get was sex.

   “Her name’s Kaylee. We met at Garvey’s the other night,” Matt replied.

   “What’s she like?” I asked, popping a hazelnut K-cup in his Keurig.

   “She’s pretty. Smart. She reads. A lot. She’s fearless and fragile at the same time.”

   “Do I get to meet her?”

   I leaned my lanky frame gracefully against the kitchen door frame as I sipped my hot drink.

   “You’re not sleeping with her,” Matt replied, shooting me a warning glare.

   “I won’t. I'm not like that,” I replied.

   You know me. You know I would never go for someone if I knew you were interested, I thought as the sting from his words sunk in.

   “Sorry, Jazz. I just—Sorry,” he told me.

   “You’re fine. Are you sure it’s okay for me to kick back here?”

   I could now check ‘masochistic freak’ off my list of things I was, along with ‘worthless,’ ‘ugly,’ ‘fat,’ ‘whore,’ and the incredibly wonderful ‘unstable.’

   “I'm not gonna use her for sex,” Matt replied evenly, gazing up at me with icy blue eyes.

   “I'm not saying you’d use her. I'm saying things happen,” I huffed irritably.

   “Um, I actually didn't’t have to do much. I think this might be one of the best you’ve written.”

   “Awesome. Hey, um, I'm sorry you’re stuck editing my stuff. I know it isn't’t really your thing.”

   “You still have talent, even if you do mostly write smut.”

   “I didn't’t think anyone thought I was good. I write some normal books, but they don’t accept them.”

   I’d never heard anyone express I had value before. Not even from my own family.

   “So, what, you thought your books have been flying off the shelves because people felt sorry for you?” he asked.

   Something in his expression changed, softened, when I nodded slowly.

   “Seriously, Jasper? You’re good at what you do. You have potential. Would you mind if I took a look at them?” Matt said as he placed my closed laptop on the coffee table.

   “Sure,” I mumbled.

   “Did they ever tell you why the other books weren't’t accepted?”

   “They said it wasn't’t good enough. That it wasn't’t what they were looking for.”

   I was afraid to try another publisher because I thought Sawyer would find out and fire me and leave me with no job.

   “Do you wanna get them published? I’ll help you, dude.”

   “Thanks. Um, I know it’s stupid with all the ice and crap, but I'm gonna take a walk.”

   “Go for it. Don’t hurt yourself.”

   He grinned up at me as he said this. My never-ending ability to somehow trip over my own feet whenever I was tired like this was one of his favorite things to poke fun at.

   “You and I both know that’s a lost cause,” I joked on my way to the door.

   Without meaning to, I tripped over my own foot and fell into the wall. I was fine enough I was laughing about it as I left.

   I wasn't’t really sure where I was going. I just wanted out. I wanted to be able to sit down away from people and reevaluate the way I looked at myself and at life. For the first time in longer than I could remember, I felt the faint flicker of hope. But I was afraid to believe in it.

2: 2

                                                          2

 

   I found myself at the city park somehow; I was glad I wound up there instead of a bar, though. The last time I came here, I was dangerously depressed. Things had been so bad, I was inches from taking my own life.

   It was prettier than it had been last time I was here, and I was lost in the beauty of the snow. It was absolutely breathtaking the way it coated the trees. It looked like something out of a masterpiece or maybe a movie. It was almost too beautiful.

   Or at least I was lost until I saw her. I’d never seen her before, so I figured she might be new in town. She was taller than most of the girls I’d been with, around my height of 6’; she reminded me of the Amazons I had read about in a mythology book I’d read once for research. Even from this distance, I could tell she was beautiful. Her spiky black-and-pink hair poked out from under her multi-colored beanie. The rest of her clothes, a tan leather-and-fleece jacket and teal skinny jeans, hinted at origins fancier than anything in this town. The jacket clung tastefully to her slim body, accentuating every curve and dip but not making her look slutty. The jeans disappeared into her knee-high brown leather boots; it made her legs look incredible.

   She was taking pictures of some little kids ice-skating on the frozen pond. She looked lost in concentration; I was sure I looked the same way when I was locked in on writing.

   I took a half-step towards her when I stepped on an invisible ice patch and busted my butt on the concrete walkway. I fell again when I tried to get up.

   “You want some help?” a gentle, quiet woman’s voice asked.

   I found myself face-to-face with the girl I’d been ogling a few moments ago. I almost expected het to call me out for staring at her earlier.

   “That would be great. Thank you,” I replied politely.

   She was even more breathtaking up close. Her almond-shaped dark eyes were thoughtful and kind and hinted at some kind of amazing I’d never seen in anyone else. Her tiny nose was reddened from the cold; an equally red blush spread across her high cheekbones. Her full pink lips looked so, so kissable. She was like the child of an Asian model and a god.

   “Dani Suzuki,” she said, smiling.

   She had teal braces. They looked cute on her.

   “Jasper Hartley,” I replied, offering a timid smile.

   Turn on the charm, Jazz. C’mon, I urged myself.

   “Are you okay?” she asked.

   “I'm fine. Um, you’re kinda really sorta amazingly beautiful,” I replied self-consciously.

   It’d been a long time since I had been this shy around a girl. I didn’t like the feeling; I’d rather come off as charming and unforgettable.

   “Aw, thanks! Hey, um, are you free this afternoon?” she beamed.

   “I'm really not someone you’d probably be interested in,” I told her honestly, hugging myself for warmth.

   Once she found out how much baggage I carried with me, she would reject me for sure. It wouldn’t be the first time. Or the last.

   “Why wouldn’t I be?” she asked softly.

   She sounded more curious than challenging. But it didn’t make me feel anymore at ease.

   “I have problems. I'm worthless,” I mumbled.

   “No one’s worthless,” she murmured, laying a gentle hand on my shoulder.

   I lifted my head slowly, intending to tell her off; I couldn’t.

   “Fine,” I muttered.

   I was happy to have some girl willing to be with the less-than-charming-Jasper. But I knew she wouldn’t like that side of me. No one ever did. My own family didn’t even like that side of me; they also didn’t like the charming side of me.

   “You’re cute. I need to drop the munchkins off at my sister’s before we can go out,” she told me.

   “They’re your nieces and nephews? They’re cute,” I replied.

   “Yeah. Michael, Sammy, and Maya. Thank you.”

   The three kids, two boys and one girl, ran ahead of us, pushing each other and laughing. The sight made me smile. I wished I was their age again.

   “They’re so lucky,” I murmured.

   “Why’s that?” she asked.

   “They’re so innocent. So free. They don’t have to be anyone they don’t wanna be.”

   “They’re like little butterflies. They’re free to fly until society catches them and puts them in jars.”

   “So, um, what were you planning on doing on our date?”

   “Dinner, movie, just hanging out?”

   “Sounds good. What do you do?”

   “I'm a photography major. I'm a senior. Um, I’ve done a couple paid gigs, but I'm also working at Rue21. You?”

   “Author. You sound more interesting than I do.”

   “I don’t think I am. What do you write?”

   “I end up writing smut. I hate it, but it’s the only thing my publisher will accept from me. I keep forgetting to send a manuscript to other publishers. What’s your favorite thing to take pictures of?”

   “So you write something you hate because you feel like you have no choice? What would you like to write about? Um, everything. The snow, kids having snowball fights, flowers, just everything.”

   “Pretty much. I tried writing stuff that wasn’t really romance but it was at the same time but life was more of the focus.”

   “You’re cool. I like that.”

   I started to turn to look at her, lost my footing, and fell into her. We wound up face to face in the snow with me on top of her.

  “Sorry. I'm a bit of a klutz. My editor jokes that I need bubble-wrapped inside a suit of armor inside a human hamster ball,” I said, reaching to help her up.

   For the first time ever, a girl laughed at something I said. It made me feel pretty good.

   You like me now. But if you see how I really am, if you see my brokenness, you won’t want me. You’ll throw me away, I thought sadly.

   “What’s up?” Dani asked gently, touching my hand.

   I started at the touch. Even though I slept with pretty much anyone, being touched by someone I didn’t really know still scared me most of the time.

   “Sorry. Sorry. It’s nothing,” I replied quickly.

   “You looked depressed. I know we just met and everything, but I'm a good listener,” she murmured, sounding genuinely concerned.

   “Maybe later. I don’t know.”

   “Only if you want to. When you’re not writing what do you like to do?”

   “I like kicking back in my apartment and listening to music. I go to the gym. I like going for walks. And going to Garvey’s. I hang out with Matt a lot. He’s my editor. Shut up, Jasper, you’re rambling. What about you?”

   “Your cute-factor is rising. Um, I run. Like five miles a day. I have to have music when I run. I read a lot. I’ve never been to Garvey’s. I hang out with Riley, one of my friends from class, sometimes. He’s an art student. I like artistic people.”

  “What do you like reading? Do you wanna go there after while? It’s one of my favorite places.”

   “Anything but smut, nonfiction, or anything historical. Sure! So it doesn’t bother you me being friends with guys?”

   “Not really. You have a life. I have a life. Us trying to be together doesn’t mean we have to drop our old friends.”

   “I like the way you think.”

   She was so quirky I couldn’t help but like her. I wanted to know everything about her. What she loved. What she hated. Why she thought I was so dang cute; I hadn’t been called cute since I was a kid.

   “Not to bring you down, but I'm not perfect,” I mumbled, shoving my hands in my coat pockets.

   “You mean you’re human?” she replied, elbowing me lightly.

   So I tell you how I feel and you make fun of me. Great. So it’s gonna be one of those deals. Definitely won’t be sticking around long. But what if she was trying to make me feel better? I know I'm not the perkiest person. Maybe she’s trying to help? I wondered, staring at the snowy ground in front of me.

   “Hey. I was joking. I don’t expect you to be perfect,” she told me softly.

   “Sorry,” I replied.

   We went to D’Amato’s for dinner. It was the nicest place I’d ever been with a ‘date’. And Dani was so far the nicest girl I’d been with.

   “You know, I really like you. Not just because of your face,” she told me shyly, sipping her pop.

    No one had ever been genuinely interested in me. They had only  been interested in me because I was good looking and wealthy.

   “Thanks. You’re pretty amazing,” I replied, smiling.

   “You seem surprised,” she remarked.

   “I am.”

   She acted really surprised by my admission. But not as surprised as I was. I never let anyone know how little I thought of myself before the incident with Matt today.

   “How did you get started writing?” she asked.

   She didn’t ask it like most people did. She asked it like she genuinely wanted to know why I did what I did. And she seemed eager for my response.

   “To cope,” I explained.

   “I won’t ask right now,” she promised.

   I was grateful she didn’t pressure me. Matt had tried once to force me to open up; I had completely broken down as I choked out the truth. I hadn’t told anyone since. I didn’t want anyone to know.

   “Thank you. How’d you get into photography?” I asked.

   “I always wanted to do it. I was six when I got my first camera,” she grinned.

   Her happy memories were enough to make me smile. I was a little jealous, though.

   “Can we do this again?” she asked, surprising me.

   I’d never had someone like me enough for a second date. I’d rarely had someone interested enough in me for a first date; all we usually did was screw. And then I never saw them again,

   “I-I’d really like that,” I replied.

   “You’re a pretty cool guy,” she told me.

   “Thanks. You’re pretty awesome yourself.”

   The longer I spent with her, the more I hoped I might actually have a chance at a real family. I’d never had that.

   “Are you gonna be okay going home?” I asked outside the coffee shop.

   I probably shouldn’t have been worried about someone I just met, but I was.

   “I’ll be fine, Jasper. My apartment’s next door,” she replied, smiling.

   “Okay. Do you mind if I text you tomorrow?” I asked.

   “I have a shoot tomorrow, but I should be done around one or two.”

   “’Kay.”

   I was still smiling when I walked in Matt’s apartment.

   “Are you drunk or something? You never smile that much,” he remarked.

   “I just left a date,” I replied.

   “Oh, yeah? How’d it go?”

   “Great. We, um, we’re gonna go out again.”

   “That’s awesome. I looked at the other books; they’re just as good as what you’ve been writing. And I sent a copy of one to another publisher for you, Mr. Scatterbrain. Oh, and you left your phone here. You have a text from your parents. I didn’t read it.”

   I sighed quietly as I picked my phone up from the end table. I knew whatever they had to say wasn’t going to be good. It never was.

   My parents wanted to come for a visit. I couldn’t wrap my head around why; they had never liked me. My older siblings were their favorites. Things were so bad I had never met my brother’s twin son and daughter.

   “Everything okay? You look freaked out,” Matt said.

   “They wanna come for a visit,” I replied, my voice dead.

   “How long’s it been since you saw them?”

   “I was sixteen when I moved out. So about five years.”

   “Dang.”

   He knew some of my dysfunctional family life but not much. I wasn’t going to risk telling him more; he might hate me.

   “So, um, what do you think will happen if I get a contract with the other publishing house?” I asked.

   “You’ll probably lose your contract with Sawyer. I'm leaving Sawyer as soon as I find a job with another publisher,” he replied.

   “Is my writing that bad?”

   “Funny. You’re the only cooperative author I’ve got.”

   “I wasn’t joking.”

   He gave me a half-annoyed look before turning his attention to another author’s manuscript.

   “How was your date?” I asked.

   “It didn’t go that great, but at least I didn’t get stood up,” he replied.

   “Oh. Sucks that it didn’t go great.”

   “Yeah. So when are your parents coming in?”

   “Tomorrow. For three days. With the blizzard coming in, I gave them your address because I probably won’t be going home for a while with the snow.”

   I knew I probably should’ve asked him first. But I also knew he would probably be fine with it.

   “Are you kidding me?” he asked.

   “No. I'm serious. I thought it would be okay. They’re not gonna be staying here. They already have a hotel room booked,” I replied.

   “I don’t care.”

   “And I need backup. Matt, you know how bad things can get.”

   His blue eyes were ice as he stared up at me. I had thought he would understand. He knew they didn’t treat me good. I had thought he would care enough to make sure I was safe.

   “I don’t give a crap, Jasper,” he snarled.

   “S-sorry. I’ll call them and tell them to come to my place,” I murmured.

   My hands were shaking as I dialed my dad’s number on my cell phone.

   “Make it quick, stupid,” he growled.

   “Can you come to my apartment instead of the address I gave you? 3241 South Birch Street, Apartment 35 A,” I replied hesitantly.

   C’mon, Jazz. Man up. He can’t hurt you over the phone, I told myself nervously.

   “You should’ve gotten the address right in the first place,” he snapped.

   “I'm sorry,” I mumbled.

   He hung up on me.

   “Matt, I'm gonna go to bed. I'm sorry,” I said quietly, slinking towards the guest room.

   I glanced unwillingly in the mirror as I stripped for my shower.

   Fat. You’re a fat, ugly blob. That’s why they don’t love you, I told myself.

   No one knew what I did to myself to try being more loveable. No one knew I self-harmed and had eating disorders. No one knew I had thought about killing myself. And no one would ever know.

3: 3

                                                       3

 

   I was shaking as I walked back to my apartment in the morning. Matt was still angry with me; I had apologized more before I left. I hadn’t meant to make him mad. My parents were due for a visit in three hours. I was dreading it.

   Sighing, I placed my laptop bag on my bed and went to make coffee. Maybe if I did this one, simple thing correctly, they wouldn’t be too mad at me.

   I should probably get lunch. But if I do, it’ll be wrong. If I don’t, it’ll be wrong. Either way, I'm screwed, I thought, rubbing my temples.

   I spent the time before the visit alternating between pacing and attempting to read. The time passed far too quickly before they were knocking on my door.

   I opened the apartment door cautiously. They hadn’t even talked to me yet and my parents already looked mad. I couldn’t meet my dad’s steel gray eyes or my mother’s icy blue stare; I was afraid to.

   “Are you gonna stand there like an idiot or are you gonna let us in?” Dad asked.

   “S-s-sorry,” I stammered, backing quickly away.

   “Where’s your girlfriend?” he asked.

   “She doesn’t live with me, and we’ve only went out once.”

   “Watch your tone, boy.”

   I flinched from the warning in his deep voice. Last time he had spoken to me that way, I got the crap knocked outta me.

   “Sorry,” I murmured.

   “You didn’t get this place writing,” my mom remarked, glancing around my apartment.

   “Yeah, I did. My debut novel sold well enough I got my apartment and my car.”

   “Yeah, right. Who’d you sleep with, you little whore? That’s all you ever did was sleep with people. Do you sleep with your editor too? Is that why you got published?”

   “I didn’t sleep with Matt! Or with anyone to get anything.”

   Dad shoved me hard.

   “Show some respect for your parents,” he snarled.

   I whispered another apology.

   Please stop. I haven’t done anything. I'm working my butt off to get anywhere in life. And I'm not getting anywhere. Why do you hate me? Don’t you see how hard I try? I thought, flinching from my dad’s fist.

   He laughed at me. I wished it would’ve surprised me. But it didn’t.

   “You’re worthless. You’ll never amount to anything,” he snapped, shoving me a second time.

   Before I could right myself, he slammed his fist into my jaw hard enough I saw stars. I stumbled into the wall.

   “Nobody likes you. You’re a filthy whore. You’re useless. People only talk to you because they feel sorry for you,” he growled, punching me twice more.

   I took the abuse in silence. Saying anything would only make it worse. And I'm afraid of what they would do to me if I ever manned up and pressed charges. They already decided I'm not good enough to see my brother’s kids.

   They left once Dad had beaten me into pudding. I wished I was dead. Maybe then they would be happy with me.

   The ringing of my phone distracted me from my self-destructive train of thought.

   “Hello?” I croaked warily.

   “Hey, Jazz. I'm sorry, dude. Have they been there yet? I'm on my way if it’s okay,” Matt replied hurriedly.

   “We’re good. They just left. Don’t talk and drive.”

   “I'm not. Are you okay?”

   “We can talk about it when you get here.”

   “’Kay. I'm gonna stop for coffee. Want anything?”

   “I'm good. I have coffee here.”

   “True. But do you have Garvey’s mint mocha macchiato? Or their mint chocolate chip cookies?”

   “I wish. I’ll pass on the cookies.”

   “I’ll bring you coffee.”

   “Thanks.”

   He was still in a good mood when he got to my apartment.

   “What happened?” he asked, taking in my bruises.

   “I made them mad,” I replied.

   “Does that always happen when they visit?”

   “They’ve never visited before.”

   “Are you gonna be okay for the meeting tomorrow?”

   “I don’t know.”

   Next to Matt, after everything that had already happened today, I felt even more worthless.

   “Who was the girl you went out with?” he asked.

   “Dani Suzuki. She’s really cool,” I replied.

   “That’s good. You deserve someone good.”

   “No, I don’t.”

   I couldn’t look at Matt as I admitted this.

   “Jazz, what did they do to you?” he asked gently.

   “Nothing. I'm fine. I deserved it,” I replied quickly.

   “You think you deserve your old man knocking the snot outta you? Being treated like crap? What’s wrong with you?”

   The anger in his usually gentle voice had me shaking. I was terrified he would hurt me; everyone else had when they got mad.

   “I don’t deserve to be loved, Matt. No one ever told me I did,” I whispered tensely.

   “You shouldn’t have to be told that,” he told me.

   “I told you how horrible my life’s been. How was I supposed to know?”

   “You should’ve never had to deal with that. Someone should’ve helped you. I should’ve helped you today. I'm sorry I didn’t.”

   “I forgave you. My parents think I slept with everyone to get where I'm at.”

   He gave me a ‘you’ve-got-to-be-kidding-me’ look before simply shaking his head.

   “I'm not that big of a slut,” I grinned.

   “Not touching that one,” Matt laughed.

   The longer we hung out, the better I felt. Having someone around helped my depression some. But I knew it probably would come back when he left. I would be left to deal with the voice in my head telling me how worthless I really was.

   I was right. After Matt left, the depression hit like a tidal wave. But I was still strong enough to fight; I don’t know how long that will last, though.

4: 4

                                                          4

 

   I was still struggling with my depression as I went to answer the door.

   What normal person bangs on a someone’s door at four in the morning? I asked myself, opening my apartment door.

   It was my neighbor, Alex. He was shivering and wet. We didn’t really know each other past our first names and the fact we were neighbors. A cop was standing next to him.

   “What’s wrong?” I asked.

   “I got held up. I lost my wallet and my keys. Can I stay over? Please? I know we don’t really know each other,” he replied.

   “How do I know you won’t murder me in my sleep?”

   “I'm friends with Matt.”

   Forgot that part. Matt doesn’t hang out with freaks or psychos, I thought, smiling sheepishly.

   “I'm sorry. Go ahead,” I told him, backing away.

   “Thanks. Look, I know it’s weird someone being out this late. My girlfriend and I went to a midnight movie, picked up some snacks, and went back to her place and hung out. I was a block away when I got held up,” he explained.

   “You had a cop with you. That’s good enough explanation for me.”

   “Are you writing any more books? My girlfriend loves them; she does everything but camp out in a bookstore when she finds out you have a new one coming out.”

   “Just sent the latest one in today. I'm trying to get some of my other stuff published.”

   “Like what? I like the way you write; the books just aren’t for me.”

   “A fantasy novel.”

   “Awesome! That’s all I read; you can ask Matt or my girl. What’s it about?”

   “A country named Paladrinia, its war with neighboring Carthia, and its prince who used to be a slave.”

   “Sounds good. Any spoilers?”

   “The prince’s convoy is attacked by ice dragons, and the dragons eat three people. And then the survivors kill and eat one of the dragons.”

   “Dude, you’re officially awesome!”

   His words made me laugh.

   “Do you want me to let you know if it’s accepted?” I asked.

   “That would be great!” he grinned.

   “I can autograph a copy for you if you want. I didn’t think anyone was really that crazy about my books.”

   “Dude, you’ve been a New York Times’ bestseller like, what, four times? Three? You have a crapload of talent. That would be awesome if you did.”

   “Five. Thank you.”

   “You’re welcome. Have you started anything new?”

   “Not yet.”

   I gave Alex my bed and made myself one on the couch. He seemed to be fairly nice, but I still didn’t trust him. I was awake the rest of the night; I was afraid Alex might hurt me if I slept.

   I was running on very little sleep as I drove to Sawyer’s office for the meeting. I was afraid of what they would say; I was afraid of losing my contract.

   “You look like road kill,” Matt told me in the parking lot.

   “Yeah, well, that’s what happens when you get woke up at four in the morning,” I replied.

   “What happened?”

   “Alex got held up and wanted to know if he could stay the night.”

   “At least it wasn’t a deranged killer.”

   I nodded quietly.

   The meeting started off okay. Three hundred and forty-two thousand copies of my book were gonna be printed to start. But then I was threatened of getting my contract dropped if I didn’t keep writing smut. And all I wanted to do was run.

   I'm gonna need a drink after this, I thought despondently.

   “Hey. Don’t even think about getting drunk. You know how you get,” Matt warned quietly, his hand tight on my forearm.

   I didn’t drink very often because it usually wasn’t a good thing if I did. I usually wound up either really depressed and crying, turned into a whore, or I was the funny guy everyone loved. But it was options one and two that happened most often.

   “I don’t really care right now,” I replied truthfully.

   I was relieved to get out of the stuffy office with my bosses who seemed as into breaking me down as my parents.

   “Jazz, there’s something I wanna talk to you about,” Matt told me outside.

   “What’s up? Did I do something?” I asked.

   “I have an interview with a publisher in California.”

   “Oh. Congrats.”

   “Thanks. I also got another date with that girl. Her name’s Christina.”

   “Nice goin’, man. I'm happy for you.”

   “Have you heard anymore from that Dani chick?”

   “We talked some after you left, but I wasn’t that okay last night.”

   Matt was the only one who knew I had depression issues. He didn’t know how bad it was; he never would.

   “Are you gonna get help?” he asked.

   “I'm managing okay,” I replied.

   “Jasper, you were barely okay last night. I should’ve stayed, but, um, Christina thinks—Never mind.”

   “She hates me?”

   “No! She just, um, she thinks you, uh, are a bad influence.”

   “How exactly?”

   “She thinks you’re getting me to sleep around. You know me, Jazz. I’ve never cheated on anyone. Ever. Not even on the Britt the Psycho.”

   When he and I had first started working together, he was with this crazy chick, Brittany. She followed him everywhere, texted or called every five minutes exactly, sat outside his apartment all night, and abused him verbally—And I thought physically, but he never talked about it. It was so bad he had to get a restraining order against her because she kept stalking him.

   “How did you even end up with Britt?” I asked.

   “She was cute, we had a lot in common, and she was awesome to talk to,” he replied.

   “Dude.”

   “Like you’ve never done that.”

   “Actually, I haven’t. This whatever-the-heck-it-is with Dani is the closest thing to a relationship I’ve had.”

   “Ouch.”

   “I'm used to it.”

   “Still. Not even in high school?”

   “No. No one wanted to be seen with the freak who didn’t talk to anybody and was always writing. All I was good enough for was a break from whoever they were seeing. For sex.”

   “Dude, that’s messed up.”

   “I'm still waiting for the punch line with Dani.”

   “I had an email from Olympia Publishing, the company I sent your other book to. They said that you’re ‘exceptionally talented but you aren’t what they’re looking for.’ I’ll keep trying.”

   “Maybe we should wait. I don’t wanna lose my job here.”

   “Jasper, would you rather write something you hate or something you love?”

   “Something I love. But the something I hate is what pays my bills.”

   “True. Wanna grab some coffee at Garvey’s?”

   “Have you ever known me to turn down Garvey’s?”

   To my surprise, Dani was curled up in one of the leather chairs with a book when we walked in Garvey’s. She looked really…happy  to see me for some reason.

   “Hey. Got you hooked, huh?” I grinned.

   “Extremely,” she laughed.

   I ordered my drink and went to sit next to Dani.

   “You clean up good,” she remarked.

   I felt my face warm at her words.

   “Th-thank you. I had a meeting, so I, um, yeah,” I replied.

   “You hate dressing up?”

   “Yes. I’d rather streak through Manhattan.”

   She simply shook her head at me.

   “This your girl?” Matt asked, plopping next to me.

   “Dani, this is Matt, the dude that drags my tired butt to meetings,” I replied.

   “So you’re the one that makes Jazz’s magic happen?” Dani asked.

   She can’t be serious. She probably just wants to flatter me so I’ll sleep with her, I thought, faking a smile.

   “I'm just the middleman,” Matt replied.

   I jerked when I felt Dani’s hand on mine.

   “Sorry. You had me worried after last night. Are you okay?” she whispered.

   If you knew, you wouldn’t want me, I thought.

   “I'm okay. I don’t really like talking about it,” I replied truthfully.

   “I won’t judge or push you.”

   Her whispered promise surprised me. Matt was the only one who cared enough to offer me the same; that was after he pressured me into talking about my family and I melted down.

   “What’re you reading?” I asked, noticing the book in Dani’s lap.

   “Bible,” she replied.

   I gulped nervously. I wasn’t a Christian. I didn’t believe in anything. Not even fate or destiny. And I was sure she would hate me the moment she found out. I knew I would be judged; that was all I knew of them. They judged first and asked questions later.

   “Hey. I don’t know where you’ve been, and I don’t care. You’re who you are now, and that’s the main thing,” she told me fiercely.

   I offered her a sad smile.

   “Thank you. That’s more than I’ve been given in a long time,” I murmured.

   “Jazz, I gotta go. I have more meetings,” Matt told me, nudging me gently.

   “Have fun,” I replied.

   It was nice hanging out with Dani. She showed me some shots from the Sweet Sixteen she did; she’s phenomenal. I was seriously in awe of her talent.

   “Dani, that’s amazing!” I breathed.

   “Thanks. Um, I have work today, but I get off at seven. Do you maybe wanna hang out?” she asked.

   “Yeah. I’d like that.”

   “I gotta go. My shift starts soon.”

   “Have fun.”

   I hadn’t even finished my coffee when Matt texted me. He had an interview with Crossroads Publishers, a company in southern California, on Friday.

   In three days, I might be losing one of the few people who treats me like a human being, I realized sadly.

5: 5

                                                    5

 

   I wandered the streets aimlessly once Garvey’s got too crowded for me to be okay. I wound up in front of Dani’s work; I hadn’t meant to. I only had three hours before she got done, but I needed to talk to someone.

   She seemed really surprised when I walked in. I hadn’t been in the store before, and I was surprised by how choking the perfume smell was. The pop music playing in the background was somehow comforting.

   “Jazz! What’re you—You’re freezing!” Dani said, hugging me.

   “I wanted to see you. I, um, I’ve been wandering around for a while,” I replied.

   “You won’t be able to hang out here. My break’s in ten minutes; we can talk then.”

   I smiled at her willingness to deal with me. I was afraid she wouldn’t really want me.

   I wandered around the store until it was time for her break.

   “What’s up?” Dani asked as we left the store.

   “Um, Matt’s got an interview in California. Besides you, he’s the only person that likes me,” I replied.

   She gave me a surprised look.

   “Jazz, you’re likeable,” she told me.

   “I have issues. I’ve tried being friends with people, and they dump me as soon as they find out how screwed-up I am,” I mumbled.

   “And Matt’s the only one who hasn’t?”

   “Yeah. I suck at being around people.”

   Showing her my weakness was the stupidest thing I’d ever done, but I wanted to know if it was really me she was interested in.

   “I'm a person, and you do fine,” she pointed out playfully.

   I smiled in return.

   “You’re different than them,” I told her truthfully.

   And she was. She had treated me with respect and kindness so far. She accepted my best friend. The last girl I’d attempted to date who’d met Matt accused me of sleeping with him.

   “What’d you do before you worked as a writer?” she asked.

   “I used to work at a chocolate factory. Domino Chocolates. It’s in East Carlisle, Virginia, my hometown. I hated that place,” I replied.

   “The factory or your hometown?”

   “Both. The chocolate factory was basically the only thing my town had. It was a small, boring place. Four hundred and forty-five people. There was nothing to do. I mostly hated the monotony of the factory, you know? I didn’t really make friends there. People gave me crap ‘cause I was so quiet and everything. No one really wanted to be friends with the freak that wrote in a notebook on every break.”

   “You’re not a freak, Jazz.”

   I was grateful for her words, but I didn’t really believe her.

   Once Dani was back to work, I realized just how much I missed her. I liked Matt and everything, but it was nice having someone else to talk to.

   I had fun on our date. We went to a late horror movie; I learned she loved them as much as I did. We went to dinner at Chi Ling’s, the Chinese restaurant in town; I learned she liked sushi as much as I did. We mostly got to know each other more. Likes, dislikes, different random things we were good at, stuff like that.

   So far, I knew Dani’s all-time favorite candy was Reese’s. Her favorite books were The Lord of the Rings. She could speak English, Spanish, and Japanese fluently. Her favorite snack alternated between veggies and ranch and Froot Loops. She hated bullies. She also hated stereotypical romances; I agreed with that one. She hated being lied to. She wanted to go to Miami and swim with dolphins.

   She was the most beautiful girl I’d ever met. It was only our second date, and I was already falling. I knew it was stupid. I knew, if we rushed things, our relationship would end in fiery volcanic doom. I didn’t want that. So I wouldn’t tell her until later. I wouldn’t ruin things. I didn’t want her to hate me.

   “Round three?” she asked once dinner was paid for.

   I grinned.

   “I'm game,” I replied.

   We were still talking when I dropped her off at her apartment.

   “I’d ask if you wanted to hang out for a while in my apartment, but I have a class at eight in the morning,” she told me, smiling uncertainly.

   “Maybe another time?” I asked.

   “Sure.”

   I wanted so badly to kiss her, but I didn’t know how she felt. So I was really surprised when I felt her soft, warm lips on mine. The kiss was unlike any I’d had before; it was short, chaste, and gentle.

   For the first time in a long time, I felt genuinely okay. Without hurting myself.

   The feeling lasted until I got up in the morning and saw I had four missed calls from Matt. His interview got moved up; he was leaving tomorrow for California.

   I desperately needed my fix. I needed to be in control for once. I knew cutting myself wasn’t right by anyone’s standards, but it was the only thing that actually helped. This was the best way I knew for me to be okay.

   I needed to get out of my apartment. Being by myself wasn’t really the best idea right now.

   I wish I’d never come here. Or been born, I thought sadly as I wandered Manhattan.

   I found myself in front of Blue Moon Bar and Casino, a place I hadn’t been in two months. I shook my head quietly at myself, at my weakness, as I walked inside. The entire building was varying shades of blue. The place was packed. With it being a few days before Christmas, visitors were pumping money into the town’s economy. I wasn’t sure where I wanted to go first; I just wanted to feel better without slicing my skin off.

   I finally decided on the Texas Hold ‘Em table. It was my strong point in gambling.

   Winning forty-five grand wasn’t enough. Getting drunk off my butt on blue raspberry martinis wasn’t enough. I still hurt. I still felt completely and totally worthless. I felt worse than I had before I came to the casino.

   Somehow, I found myself at Matt’s. I had blood on my hands; I didn’t remember falling down. I had thrown up on myself; I didn’t remember that either. I just knew I hurt and I wanted my friend.

   Matt wasn’t exactly thrilled to see me drunk. Or maybe he wasn’t thrilled to see me. Maybe he actually hated me and was trying to cover it up.

   “Get in here before you get arrested for public intoxication,” he sighed, raking a hand through his hair.

   “’M s’rry,” I slurred, stumbling inside his apartment.

   “What were you thinking?!”

   “Wanted t’feel better.”

   “By getting smashed? Do you feel better? ‘Cause you look like crap.”

   “Didn’t smash anything. Dunno.”

   “Oh, boy. Go sit on the couch.”

   I blacked out before I got to the couch.

   Matt didn’t look happy when I finally opened my eyes.

   “What happened?” I asked, raising up slowly.

   I was definitely hung-over. My head ached, and I wanted to throw up my stomach.

   “You came here smashed,” he replied tensely.

   “I'm sorry. I, um, I went to Blue Moon,” I replied.

   “Jasper, you’re gonna end up dead. I know what you do to yourself. How you cut and starve yourself. How you purge.”

   I didn’t think anyone cared enough to notice I was hurting.

   “How’d you know?” I asked quietly.

   “You don’t always get all the blood cleaned up. Jasper, I’ve heard you gagging yourself. I know you don’t eat half the time. Why do you think I'm always talking you into Garvey’s?” he shouted, making me flinch.

   “D-d-don’t yell at me. Pl-please. I'm sorry.”

   “Why do you do this to yourself? Do you honestly hate yourself that much?”

   “Because I hurt, Matt. Do you know what it’s like to feel nothing? For weeks, months? Hurting myself is the only way I feel anything  sometimes. Or the only way I feel anything but worthlessness. Yeah, I do hate myself, Matt. Why shouldn’t I? Give me one reason why I shouldn’t slit my wrists. My parents hate me, Matt. They can’t even stand me. And I don’t know why. I try to be a good son. And I get nowhere! That’s why I starve myself. I want their acceptance, okay?!”

    I was barely holding myself together. I wanted so badly for him to understand my pain.

   “I’ve felt numb, Jazz; I think everyone has. You’re twenty-two. You have a whole lotta time for your life to get better. If you end it, you’ll never get that chance. You won’t get to see if Dani loves you or have kids or see the effect you have on the world. If you do this, it’s the most selfish thing you’ve ever done, and there’s no going back. You get that, right? It’s permanent. Your parents are stupid for hating you, but it’s their loss. Don’t let their opinion hold you back; that’s exactly what you’ve been doing. Is their acceptance worth your life? Your health? Your happiness? Jasper, how much are you willing to give for two people who never gave you anything? Don’t do this. Don’t touch the self-destruct button.”

   “I don’t mean numb. I feel dead inside. I feel absolutely nothing, and it scares me. I want to be okay. I don’t want to do this.”

   I needed help. I knew that. But I was afraid to ask for it. I didn’t want to be hated by the few people who seemed to like me.

   “You need to go for counseling,” he told me firmly.

   “I know. I just didn’t think anyone would support me,” I replied.

   I decided I would make an appointment with a counselor when I wasn’t hungover. I would try to change. But I wasn’t sure if I could; I had been self-destructing for a long time.

6: 6

                                                          6

 

   It had been two weeks since Matt got his job in California. He was having fun. Me, I was in hell.

   “For the last time, Mr. Hartley, we need the manuscript as soon as possible,” Ben Williams, my new editor, growled irritably from his seat on my couch.

   “And I'm telling you Matt said it was fine!” I replied just as grumpily.

   I hadn’t slept in over 48 hours. I had every right to be in a crap mood; Ben hadn’t stopped bothering me since my first all-nighter. He had changed everything Matt had okayed and called my work crap. Like my self-esteem needed another blow.

   “I don’t really care, Mr. Hartley. Just get it done,” he sighed.

   I growled in frustration as I stood to get another energy drink.

   “Park it, Mr. Hartley. You’re supposed to be writing, not wandering about,” Ben snapped.

   “Dude, shut up for five seconds. Okay? I'm in no mood to deal with your bullcrap,” I growled, turning to glare at him.

   I swore if he said one more word in his stupid British accent, I was going to scream!

   “No need to be so grumpy,” he sulked.

   If you wouldn’t push me like I'm some robot, I wouldn’t be grumpy! I growled silently.

   I wasn’t happy with the changes I had to make. The characters seemed fake. The dialogues read as scripted instead of natural. The whole thing seemed as forced as it really was. Before, it had flowed and been realistic. Now it was like someone put my words in a blender, scooped out a handful of the mush, and put it on a page. But I wasn’t allowed to change it back.

   “Oh, and by the way, I'm not helping you like Jacobs was. If you wanna get something different published, do it yourself,” Ben told me.

   “Fine,” I mumbled.

   I wanted today to be over. He was getting on every nerve I had and even some I didn’t have.

   I barely made my deadline. Ben still wasn’t happy with me. He could go screw himself for all I cared; I just wanted to be left alone so I could sleep.

   I wasn’t alone even when he left; Dani came over a few minutes later.

   Things between Dani and I had been tense for the past week-and-a-half. She was frustrated with me; I didn’t open up that much, I refused to go to church with her, and she didn’t understand why I hurt myself. I was frustrated with her for being frustrated with me.

   “Hey. What’s up?” I asked, smiling tiredly.

   “I wanted to talk to you about some stuff,” she replied, leaning against the wall.

   She looked kinda mad.

   “Uh-oh. Have I done something?” I asked.

   “As a matter of fact, yeah. You’re never open with me. You never let me in. You let Matt in. I'm your girlfriend, Jasper. I should rank higher than that! You hurt yourself. You don’t talk to me about what’s going on with you. Were you and Matt screwing behind my back? Huh?” she shouted.

   “I don’t let you in because I'm scared, okay? Matt and I worked together for five months. You and I have been dating for two weeks. See where I'm coming from? I hurt myself because I don’t know what else to do! I never know when you’re busy or in class or whatever, and I don’t wanna bother you with my problems. I’ve been a lot more considerate towards you than you’ve been to me. Do you think I like hurting myself? That I do it because it’s fun? I do it because it’s the only thing that makes me feel okay. I don’t talk to you about what’s going on because I'm afraid you’ll decide I'm not worth it. Which is exactly what you’re doing.

   “You are such a hypocrite, Dani! Your whole religion is about love, forgiveness, and acceptance. And here you are, rejecting me because I'm messed up. What’s up with that?”

   “Forget it, Jasper. We’re done. Lose my number.”

   The words didn’t hurt yet. But they did once I was alone with them reverberating around my head.

   Cutting barely helped.

   I dropped by Alex’s apartment; I needed away from mine.

   “Dude. What happened?” he asked.

   “My girlfriend dumped me. Can I hang here?” I replied, shrugging sadly.

   “Yeah, of course.”

   He seemed happy I wanted to hang out. I felt guilty, though; I was afraid of using him.

   “Why’d she dump you?” he asked.

   “She said I wasn’t being open enough. Plus I have problems, and she didn’t really wanna deal with the fact I'm screwed up,” I replied.

   “Ouch. I heard bits and pieces.”

   “She thought Matt and I were a thing behind her back.”

   “Okay, that’s just messed up.”

   “I never did.”

   “Who’s your editor now that Matt’s gone?”

   “Ben Williams. He’s awful.”

   “How bad?”

   “He made me write a four hundred-page novel in two days. With no sleep. I'm running on Rockstars and Monsters. Barely.”

   “Two days? Why?”

   “Another author wasn’t gonna meet their deadline, and they apparently needed something published. So they picked me.”

   “Your other book isn’t even out yet, though. Right?”

   “Right. And I'm close to maybe losing my contract.”

   “Because?”

   “I'm trying to publish my normal stuff elsewhere, and they aren’t happy apparently.”

   “Dude, I'm not even sure if it’s legal.”

   “Me either, but I'm stuck until I get another contract.”

   Because my life didn’t suck enough, a hospital in Florida called to tell me my parents died in a car wreck. They were there on vacation and had been drinking—Nothing new there—and they drove too fast, hit a guardrail on a freeway ramp and flipped their car. The wreck was bad enough the car caught on fire.

   “You okay, dude? You look like you’re about to pass out,” Alex said, leading me by the arm to his couch.

   “Um, no. My parents are dead,” I replied, stunned.

   “Oh, dude. I'm sorry, Jazz. I know they weren’t great, but they were still your family.”

   “Yeah. My uncle told the hospital to tell me the funeral was taken care and I was not to come.”

   “Dang.”

   “They hate me, and I don’t really give a crap right now. I'm too tired to care.”

   “Go lay down. Seriously. You gave me your bed; I'm giving you mine.”

   I gave him a grateful smile before making my way to his dark bedroom.

   Whatever hope I had felt before meeting Dani was gone.

7: 7

                                                          7

 

   I had been coping alone with my depression for two-and-a-half months when the call that shattered my world came. Matt was dead. He had been caught in a gunfight between two gangs on his way home from an author’s home. His body would be brought back to Manhattan for burial; this was his hometown. My world was imploding around me. I needed to leave my apartment before I did something idiotic.

   My part-time job at Garvey’s didn’t start again for a couple more days. I had taken it on so I wouldn’t be as bored. Alex was out of town for the week. And Dani and I weren’t even friends. Part of me wanted out, wanted to end everything, and the other part told me to stay.

   As I was leaving my apartment, my cell rang again. Because things weren’t bad enough, I lost my contract with Sawyer. I hadn’t heard anything from any of the other publishers I had contacted. I knew it would be very easy for me to kill myself right now. But more of me wanted to stay than wanted to end it.

   I wandered Manhattan until sundown, when I found myself in front of a small, white church. The sign out front said ‘Manhattan Community Church. Outcasts welcome’. The lights were on, and I could hear happy chatter and laughter coming from inside. The evening service started in ten minutes. I could’ve walked away, but something drew me inside.

   I was trembling as I stepped inside. It was warm. But I didn’t expect warmth from the people. I expected judgment. I knew I would be rejected.

   I slunk quietly into the sanctuary. The last time I had been in a church was when my aunt took me to the Catholic church a few miles from our house; she beat me until I agreed to confess my sin, which was my dad had pimped me to her husband. I wasn’t sure if this would be the same.

   A guy intercepted me when I walked in. He was a short, skinny redhead.

   “Hi. It’s nice seeing a new face,” he said, offering me a warm smile.

   “Hello. J-Jasper Hartley,” I replied, smiling shyly.

   “You’re pretty famous, aren’t you? An author, right?”

   “I was. I lost my contract today. My best friend died today. I'm nothing now.”

   “I'm Kyle, by the way. That really sucks, dude. Um, you can sit with my girlfriend and me if you want.”

   “Thanks.”

   I followed him quietly to his seat. His girlfriend was a tall, model-skinny, blonde. She was friendly, though.

   The pastor and his wife both welcomed me. They seemed genuinely happy to have me there. They were both young, maybe a few years older than me.

   So far, they seemed okay with me. They seemed to want me. But they didn’t know how damaged and broken I was. They didn’t know what I had been through. They didn’t know I didn’t even believe.

   It was after the service that I found myself sobbing at the altar. I was done. When I stood, I wouldn’t say everything was okay or that everything made sense ‘cause it wasn’t and it didn’t; it was more like I knew I wasn’t on my own anymore. I had Someone fighting for me. In those moments of revelation, I realized something: It’s when the bottom falls out you finally reach out for help. Not when things start getting bad but when it falls apart.

   I felt more alive than I ever had as I made my way back to my apartment. I had the Bible Pastor gave me tucked under my arm. For the first time in years, I thought I was gonna be okay.

   I was shocked to see someone sitting outside my apartment door when I got home. I was even more surprised to see it was Dani.

   “What’re you doing here? And how did you find out where I lived?” I asked quietly.

   She looked up at me with puffy eyes. Her black mascara streaked her cheeks.

   “I wanted to apologize. I'm sorry. I was wrong,” she told me.

   “I'm not mad anymore,” I replied.

   “I was still wrong. I shouldn’t have said those things. Or judged you. You were right, Jazz; I am a hypocrite. I should’ve never judged you. You were the best thing that ever happened to me.”

   “I forgive you. Um, guess where I just left?”

   “Is that a Bible?”

   She looked so excited. I grinned and nodded.

   “Yay! Do you wanna give us another go? Or are you done with me?” she said.

   “I’ll take you back. Promise you’ll try to understand? I’ll try to do better. I promise,” I replied.

   “I promise. I missed you.”

   “Do you wanna come in for a while?”

   She smiled and agreed.

   “Um, how’s writing?” she asked.

   “I lost my contract. I'm working part-time at Garvey’s. How’s school?” I replied.

   “Okay, I guess. Why’d they drop you? Do you have another publisher?”

   “They said I wasn’t producing my normal quality. Not yet. I'm pretty worried about it, to be honest.”

   “You’ll find a place that knows how awesome your stuff is.”

   “Do you mind if I start the whole totally upfront and honest thing tonight?”

   “What’s up?”

   “I have problems. I'm going to counseling. It’s my first session; they were really packed when I called a few weeks ago.”

   “What kinda problems?”

   “Cutting and eating disorders and depression and being suicidal.”

   She seemed really surprised.

   “I knew you hurt yourself, but I didn’t know exactly what was going on. How long has this been happening?” she asked gently.

   “Years. I didn’t tell you before because I was afraid to. The only person who knew was Matt, and he figured it out on his own. I, um, I’ve also slept with a lot of people. It was all one-night stands. We used protection, but I wanted to tell you. I was gonna tell you anyway, if we’d stayed together,” I replied.

   “Do you mind if I ask what it was you did to yourself? How often did you do it? Are you still sleeping with people?”

   “Um, I purged last night—vomiting and laxatives—I haven’t ate today, and I’ve been cutting almost every day. I couldn’t really cope. I'm sorry. I know I'm a bad person for doing it. No, I haven’t slept with anyone since two weeks before you and I met.”

   “Are you hungry?”

   “Very. I just—I'm afraid I’ll get fat and even less people will like me.”

   “You’re not gonna get fat. What else has been goin’ on?”

   “Matt’s dead. I'm friends with my neighbor now. My last editor was awful.”

   “What happened to Matt? That’s great, Jazz! See? People like you. How awful?”

   “He died because of gang violence. He moved to California ‘cause he got a better job, and he died. Um, he pushed me past my breaking point to get books out. I wasn’t even supposed to be writing, but I was being pushed to anyway. Some of the other authors weren’t meeting deadlines, and they needed to make money, so they went with me.”

   “It sounds almost like a good thing they dropped you then. You look exhausted.”

   “I am. Pushing someone with no sleep isn’t the best way to get high-quality novels. Not that smut is ever high-quality, but you get my point.”

   “That isn’t even right.”

   “Tell me about it. I’ve been living off energy drinks since Matt left; coffee ain’t cutting it for me anymore.”

   I hadn’t realized until tonight how much I missed her. How much I needed her. I hadn’t really needed or missed someone like this before. It kinda scared me. Because what if I loved her? And what if I lost her all over again?