The Greatest Love Story Ever Written - Part 7

Taking over from Sarah E. Stevens is K.K. Weil...

Ronnie stared at him for a minute. Nick felt like she was trying to read his expression.

“You should do it,” she finally said.

“Really?” he asked. He was surprised at the way his heart pumped when she spoke that sentence. Had he been looking for this confirmation all along? For someone to say it was okay for him to complete Clarisse’s work? Someone other than a ghost, that is. Or was his pulse racing because Ronnie thought he could actually pull this off?

“Definitely. How many people get a chance to co-write with Clarisse Heartfelt? It’s a once in a lifetime opportunity. And I think it would be a lot of fun. I’d love to do it.”

Nick’s eyebrows shot up. Was she asking to collaborate with him?

As if she read his mind, Ronnie’s cheeks turned scarlet. “I mean, if I were you, I’d love to do it.”

Ronnie may have backpedaled out of embarrassment, but Nick actually thought it was a great idea. What better excuse to spend time with this beautiful woman than working on a love story? Nick glanced behind Ronnie to Clarisse. He couldn’t very well invite another person to work on her manuscript without her permission. He tilted his head, raised his eyebrows and prayed she could read his mind so he wouldn’t have to say it out loud. Telling Ronnie he was seeing a ghost was one thing. Speaking to her in front of Ronnie might have been a little too much.

Clarisse didn’t fail him.“Go for it, lover boy. We’re here so you can explore your feelings to get something interesting down on paper, right? She just gave you an in. Ask her to work on it with you.” Clarisse’s smile was supportive, and just a little naughty.

Nick cleared his throat. He tried to form the question in his mind first. He wasn’t good at this, but he wanted to get better. Maybe push the nerd in him aside for just a second. “And how about as you? Would you still love to do it?”

Ronnie’s blush deepened. “What? Help write Clarisse Heartfelt’s book? I couldn’t. I don’t know the first thing about writing.”

The old Nick, the pre-haunted Nick, would have taken that as a rejection and dropped the subject. But as he watched Clarisse cross her arms over her chest, silently daring him to make the next move, he gathered his courage.

“You don’t have to write it. You could just read it over with me and bounce some ideas around. Besides, I have a feeling that your presence alone will give me the inspiration I need to do her story justice.” He didn’t know where those words came from, but Ronnie’s ear-to-ear grin told him they were the right ones.

Her tiny hand squeezed his. “Let’s do it.”

Nick was grateful Clarisse insisted he bring her purse, with the manuscript inside, to the date. He hadn’t wanted to, but now that he was on his way to Ronnie’s home with it in his trunk, he felt the urge to give Clarisse a big smooch on the cheek.

In her living room, Ronnie sat next to Nick on the couch. “I can’t believe Clarisse Hearfelt’s manuscript is sitting on my coffee table,” she beamed.

“I know. It’s a little surreal.” Nick wanted to be alone with Ronnie, but Clarisse sat on a chair opposite them.

“Sit back,” she chided. “Relax. Try not to look like you’ve got a stick rammed down your spine.”

Clarisse was right. He was nervous. He fidgeted with his collar, trying to play it cool.

“Would you like something to drink?” Ronnie asked, standing.

For the next few hours, over a few glasses of wine, Nick read aloud from Clarisse’s hand-written pages. Ronnie listened intently, closing her eyes during scenes Clarisse described in detail. Nick loved the way her eyebrows came together ever so slightly, like she was trying to visualize every one of Clarisse’s words. From time to time, she leaned over Nick’s shoulder to read along with him. She smelled sweet, like vanilla, and Nick had to remind himself to keep reading and not to pause, just taking in her scent.

In the manuscript, tensions between Dexter and Becky, the hero and heroine, were rising. As Nick read, he realized his eyes were trying to skim the paragraphs ahead, to see what was going to happen next. Clarisse might have said she was missing some passion in her writing, but as far as Nick was concerned, her writing was superb. When he reached the end of a page, and the characters were about to share a long-awaited kiss, he dared to glance at Ronnie to see if Clarisse’s writing was having the same effect on her. Her eyes, wide open and staring into his, told him it was.

“Why did you stop?” she asked. Her voice was breathy.

“Did I?” he asked. He didn’t mean to. He just couldn’t look away from her.

He forced himself to focus back on the story. He turned the page, but there was nothing on it. Clarisse’s writing had ended. That was all she wrote.

Nick stared at the page in disbelief. There had to be more. They had to have their moment.

He felt the outside of Ronnie’s leg brush against his. She was leaning over him, looking over his shoulder again. “That’s it? But what happens now?”

Nick’s pulse pounded against his wrists and in his throat. For the first time in his life, words poured into his mind. He knew exactly what he was feeling now, knew exactly how to put in into words on paper. If he didn’t write it down this very second, if he didn’t give these characters their moment, he might lose it. But he also knew that this could be his moment with Ronnie and he didn’t want it to pass.

Clarisse must have sensed his breakthrough. “Grab a pen! Write it down while it lasts. This is our research, kid. You might never get this back. Get it on paper. Right now!”

Nick looked into Ronnie’s expectant eyes, and then at Clarisse’s impatient ones.

“I’ll take it from here,” he said to Clarisse, not even caring that he was talking to a ghost in front of Ronnie. “You can go.”

Okay readers, what does Nick do?

Choice A – Write the most passionate scene he’s ever written in his life

Choice B – Share his first kiss with Ronnie

You have until 11 PM Tuesday to vote.