Chapter 2

Chapter 02

I remained frozen in my spot.

My eyes stayed fixed on him and I didn't, for the life of me, know how exactly to react. Dean Ryan was the last person I expected or, quite frankly, wanted to see in the time of my visit here. So, I felt it really surreal that he was standing in front of me at that very moment.

Maybe it was just me, but he had grown taller. He was dressed in a neat three piece black suit with shiny black dress shoes to match. His dark brown hair looked well groomed and so did the beard which he had grown on his face. I felt my breath get stuck in my throat when my eyes made direct contact with his. His gaze didn't shift from mine, he let his ocean blue eyes stay piercing into mine.

His entire aura seemed different, more intimidating.

I’d have to admit it felt a bit nerve-wracking trying to hold his gaze.

Sasha's voice snapped me out of my trance, "Wait, you two know each other?"

I quickly gathered myself, clearing my throat, "Y-Yeah, um, Dean and I are old friends."

Dean gave me a look but I quickly looked away from him.

"Well, I'm Bresha." Bresha said a little too excitedly, holding out her hand to Dean.

Dean shook her hand, giving her a warm smile, "Nice to meet you. I'm Dean."

His voice sounded deeper than I remembered, but maybe that could be because I hadn't heard it in such a long time.

"Yeah, Grace said that." She let out a soft chuckle. "How was your interview?"

"It was- It was good." He stole a quick glance at me but shifted his gaze immediately he saw that mine was already on his. "It was good."

"Alright, Grace." Sasha said to me. "That's our cue. It's time."

"Okay." I said briefly.

"It was really nice meeting you, Dean Ryan. I sincerely appreciate you coming." Sasha shared a final formality with before she started walking in the direction of the set.

I wasted no time in following suit.

"Anytime, Sasha." I heard Dean say behind me.

I probably shouldn't have, but I took a quick look back at Dean and he was staring right at me. I forced myself to look away and focus on where I was going, all the while trying to ignore the tsunami that was going on in my stomach.

* * * *

I was seated on a sofa which was positioned opposite to the one on which Sasha sat. Bright lights glared at us from every angle and so did cameras. I was used to all of it at this point. The trick was to be bold, confident and nice all at the same time. Also to be as transparent as possible.

After Sasha did a quick intro of her show, she looked to me and said, "Today, we have Grace Anderson, the writer of Sandalwood and Dear Lucas as most of you may know. Feels good to finally have you here, Grace."

"Feels good to be here." I responded with a smile. "Thank you for having me, Sasha."

"Tell me, Grace," she faced me squarely, "when did you start writing?"

"Uh, I started writing at a pretty early age, to be honest. And I wasn't so bad at it either." I answered her question. "I used to write random short stories in grade school. Some were fiction, about animals o-or good moral lessons."

"How cute." She chuckled at that. "You studied English Lit at Stanford, correct?"

"Briefly, yeah." I informed her. "I left for England at the beginning of my sophomore year. That was when I started working at Spring Publishing."

"That was 2020, yeah?" She asked and I confirmed. "That's pretty great. That was when your first book was published."

"Yes, it was." I said, smiling wistfully.

"I have a copy of it right here, as a matter of fact." She said, pulling her copy of Sandalwood out of the couch.

I couldn't help but release a shy laugh, "Oh, my God."

"Would you do me the honour of signing this?" She said sweetly.

I laughed, "Of course."

She passed the book and a pen over to me and I wasted no time in flipping the front page open, doing exactly as she asked.

"I was obsessed with this novel for the longest time, honestly speaking." She said as I handed her the book back.

I wasn't sure a time would ever come when the sound of that wouldn't make my heart leap.

It always felt quite endearing to know that a book I had written as a way of coping and navigating the loss of my father, a book which I had written solely for myself and had no intentions of sharing it with anyone, became a book which I was now well known for; a book people always spoke so highly about.

It was quite serendipitous, if you asked me.

It was crazy how one simple love story could impact so many lives.

"Aww, that warms my heart, really." I sniffled, placing a hand on my chest.

"So, do you write from personal experiences or you just have a good imagination?" She asked yet another question.

I let out a light chuckle, "I'm afraid I write from personal experiences."

"So, Sandalwood is based on a true story?"

"Yeah, you can say that." I chuckled again.

"How sweet." She smiled dreamily. "Is he still in the picture?"

"U-Um, no." I bit on my lip while I gave my head a gentle shake. "No, that was a long time ago."

"Aww, that's too bad." She said as she let out a sigh. "Jay and Abby really seemed like endgame."

"Yeah." I felt the edge of my lip tug up a bit.

"Okay, moving on." She said as she took a quick look at her iPad. "You recently published your new book, Dear Lucas. I had a really great time reading it although it was quite different from your first book."

"Uh, yeah." I nodded.

"I didn't really know much about BPD until I read it." She said again. "It was kind of sad."

"Yeah, uh, my father was diagnosed with BPD when he was in high school." I told her. "It messed with his head a lot, really."

"Oh, that's too bad." She wore an empathic look.

"Y-Yeah, um, I didn't know much about BPD until he told me to be honest. And even then, it wasn't easy to grasp the context or fully understand what he was going through." I said honestly. "It messed with him in a lot of ways. Mental disorders are really the worst."

"I'm sorry to hear that." She said, a light crease forming between her brows.

"It's okay." I bit down on my bottom lip. "There wasn't much anyone could have done about it honestly. But it got to a point where his illness almost cost him our family and he sincerely didn't want to lose us, you know? He had to make that decision once and for all to be a better person."

She nodded as she listened to me attentively.

"It got better from there." I told her. "Mental disorders can be silent killers, each one of them in their own completely different way. But the first step will always be your willingness to want help, you know? You can only get better when you make that decision."

"Definitely." She wore a sad look.

"My bad," I let out a soft laugh, "didn't mean to dampen the mood."

"It's okay, we love to have important conversations too." She offered a comforting smile.

I smiled back at her although my heart couldn't help but feel a little sad from talking about my father and his Borderline Personality Disorder.

She proceeded to go on with her questions, "So what's next for you? Is there going to be a book tour?"

* * * *

The interview went well.

Sasha Chorus was genuinely a good person.

By the time we were done, we both exited the set and headed back backstage. The crew members surrounded her in a matter of seconds. One of them handed both me and Sasha bottles of water and we thanked him.

"It was really great having you on the show, Grace." She said to me with a wide grin. "I'd love to this again sometime."

I offered a smile, "Definitely, so would I."

She was about to say something when someone approached her, holding out a phone, "Call for you, miss Chorus."

"Alright, that's my cue." I said nicely to her. "Thank you for today."

"Thank you too." She said as she picked up her phone.

I turned my back to them and started walking away. Just as I was trying to remember where the exit was again, my eyes landed on Dean who stood resting against the wall. He had one hand in the pocket of his trousers and one held his phone, which his attention was fully focused on.

I contemplated walking over to him.

I didn't know how I felt about seeing him, to be honest. So much time had passed by and I didn't even know exactly what to say to him.

My mind could only travel to so many places. Like, was he doing okay? Was he furious at me? Did he hate me? Would it be better if I just bolt out of here and forget this ever happened?

There were a lot of negative thoughts going through my head honestly, but deep down I knew it was something I simply had to do.

I sucked in a deep breath and after a few short strides, I was standing in front of him.

"Hey," I said somewhat softly to him, "you're still here."

He looked down to me and for a brief second, he looked stunned. Like he was surprised to see me standing there in front of him.

"Y-Yeah, uh, I," he cleared his throat when he realised he was stuttering. "I'm waiting for someone."

"Oh, okay." I nodded. "That's great."

He nodded too.

Silence fell between us.

It wasn't awkward but it wasn't comfortable either.

It felt like there were a million unsaid things hanging over our heads.

Dean broke the silence, "Old friends, huh?"

I let out a soft chuckle, "Was the fastest thing I could think of."

He nodded, "Figured."

There was a short amount of silence again before I said, "It's really nice seeing you again though."

"You too." He nodded. "You look shorter than I remember."

I couldn’t exactly tell if he was trying to make a joke or not but I let out a soft laugh, "That's because you got taller."

"I guess I did, didn't I?" He gloated, looking at himself like he was checking himself out.

I rolled my eyes playfully.

Then, I cleared my throat and said firmly, "Um, about how I ended things-"

"Grace-"

"That was awful of me." I made it clear. "You didn't deserve that and I'm really sorry."

I found it quite strange.

One thing which was always so peculiar about Dean Ryan was how easy it was to tell what he was thinking just by looking at him.

You’d never have to think too much about it, you’d just… know.

But there was absolutely nothing I could decipher from the completely expressionless way his eyes were piercing through mine.

He stayed staring at me silently and intently for a while before he said, "It's okay. It's all in the past."

I felt somewhat relieved at his words. I had felt completely terrible about how cowardly I ended things with Dean for a long time. It was a terrible thing to do and I felt he had all the right to hate me for it. But at the same time a part of me wished he didn't, you know, hate me.

In an attempt to lighten the mood, I said;

"I like your..." I hovered my fingers around my face in a circular motion, "...facial hair."

"Oh, you mean my beard?" His brows went up as he stroke his chin. "My sophisticated and professional beard?"

"Whatever you say, Dean." I laughed.

Call me crazy, but I could’ve sworn I saw him crack a smile.

"Babe, there you are!"

Just then, a gorgeous brunette lady made her way to Dean, taking his face in her hands and planting a kiss on his lips.

I stood there awkwardly as Dean began to kiss her back.

A long time had passed and that wasn't supposed to make me feel anything, but it did.

And I hated that it did.

They both pulled away from each other and focused their gazes at me at the same time she snaked her hand around Dean's arm like she was making her claim to him.

"Um, Amber, this is Grace." He introduced. "Grace, this is my girlfriend, Amber."

______

Thanks for reading!

~Chris xx.