Chapter 9
743 Words
The following day, my boss, took the time to discuss the progress of the new novel I was working on. However, despite his efforts, I found myself torn and couldn't come to a definitive decision on whether or not to continue with the task. Mitch leveled a stern gaze at me and expressed his regard: "Danni, it's been a month and you have yet to present anything to me. Are you just focused on working for me or are you preoccupied with some other things?"
I attempted to justify my lack of progress by emphasizing the demands of assisting Alice with her story submissions. "Mitch, I've been occupied with the tasks you assigned not only to me but also to Alice. The deadline for her submissions is coming. Should we delay dealing with those obligations?"
Mitch contemplated my explanation before offering his perspective. "If you can manage to secure her a slot at a festival, especially Cannes, go ahead and lend her a hand in refining her story. Regardless, what I'm encouraging you to do is prioritize your work, Danni. It's fine to help your coworkers, but what about you? What about your own objectives?"
Despite his words of advice, I reluctantly handed in the manuscript I had been painstakingly perfecting. I chose to keep the reasons behind the perplexing direction of the story to myself, unwilling to divulge the doubts and uncertainties swirling within me. Surprisingly, Mitch didn't chastise me for my approach. At that moment, I couldn't help but wonder if my unconventional storytelling was acceptable. Possibly, just maybe, it was permissible for me to continue with the direction I was taking and begin searching for narratives that could intersect with the story Scott and I had created.
It seems as if my connection with Scott hasn't truly come to an end. A few months later, we crossed paths once more at yet another wedding. It was a strange coincidence, considering we had originally met at the wedding of our mutual friends. This time, I had been invited to be a bridesmaid for a scriptwriter friend who happened to have collaborated with David and me on a film that our boss had produced for a film festival three years ago. I couldn't help but question if it was just fate playing with me or if the universe was truly mocking me.
I made a plotted effort to act as though Scott and I were strangers, and to my surprise, he did the same. I didn't want to face the inevitable until the reception itself, knowing all too well what would happen if I let myself get drunk again. Definitely not, I thought to myself. I had no desire to get intoxicated and relive that night when I couldn't even feel his touch or recall the events that had unfolded between us in his bed. It was better not to let things simply revert to the way they were.
But then, he surprised me by approaching my table and sitting next to me, addressing me as Danni, and I thought he'd forget. I tried to keep my gaze averted, not wanting to be associated with someone who tended to disappear without a trace. However, I soon realized that my presumptions about him were completely wrong.
"Hi, Danni. How are you doing? Mind if I join you?" Scott unexpectedly engaged in conversation and took a seat beside me. "I'm alright. Sure, go ahead. It's no problem," I replied, uneasy, keeping my eyes away from him, and anyone who might witness our interaction.
"I never thought we'd cross paths again. Another wedding, huh? And you're a bridesmaid once again?" Scott expressed his innocent surprise. "Yep, that's right. And you, how have you been?" I fibbed, trying to alleviate the discomfort I felt.
"I've been okay. I've been busy with a major project at work," Scott responded, his gaze still fixed on me.
"Well, that's good to hear," I uttered, trying my best to avoid making an obvious mistake. "Um, about the last time... I'm sorry if it was startling, and it might've given you a great disappointment." Scott eventually acknowledged, causing me to blush in shock.
Did he just bring up what happened between us last time? I abruptly pivoted, ensuring no one overheard his words. It's mortifying to think that he broached the subject, especially since I know firsthand how difficult it is to forget what occurred between us. What in the world!
- Writer
