Page 32 of The Write Track
I grinned at the phone, waiting. Somehow I knew he wasn’t done. As it turned out, he wasn’t even close.
Nathan:What’s your favorite genre?
Bella:For reading or writing?
Nathan:For everything. We’re talking reading, writing, movies, television. I want to know the whole enchilada.
Bella:Do you like Mexican food? That’s my second favorite.
Nathan:Yes, but don’t distract me. I’m being serious.
Bella:Fine. I like reading a little bit of everything. Horror. Rom-coms. Mysteries. Paranormal mysteries are weirdly my favorite, but only if they’re really snarky.
Nathan:Like witches who live in Michigan and have a great-aunt who hexes people to smell like bacon when she’s in a bad mood?
Bella:You’ve read those? I am weirdly impressed.
Nathan:I read everything too. What do you watch?
Bella:I am all over the place there too. I love stuff likeStranger ThingsandWelcome to Derry.
Nathan:Horror fan?
Bella:I love horror movies. Even the old ones from before I was born. I’ve seenThe Shiningabout a million times.
Nathan:So you’re a King fan?
Somehow I knew where this conversation was going.
Bella:I love a lot of King stuff. I tend to gravitate toward his older stuff though.The Shining. It. Pet Sematary. Carrie. Salem’s Lot.
Nathan:It’s more visceral for some reason. I get it. Did you see that recentSalem’s Lotmovie?
Bella:It was terrible. I’m in desperate need of a good vampire movie. I lovedSinners,but that was actually more commentary than horror.Interview With a Vampireis great on AMC, but it takes forever between seasons.
Nathan:That show is way better than I was expecting.The Mayfair Witches, unfortunately, is nowhere near as good.
Bella:I agree.
The conversation went on for hours. I thought that would be it. We got through all the surface questions and definitely knew enough about each other to fool Preston. But the next day, the texts started in the morning and continued until bedtime. Then the day after that, more of the same.
Through text messages, I got to know who Nathan was, for the most part. He loved all things horror—even bad horror movies—and hated nonfiction. We had that in common. His biggest pet peeve was self-help books. He said he couldn’t help feeling that the people hawking their systems were taking advantage of readers who were just in search of peace. I was right there with him.
Of course, I didn’t mention that my mother bought self-help books like they were going out of style. It was too embarrassing. I’d brought it up to my mother more than once, but she didn’t care. She liked what she liked. She’d always been that way.
He talked about wanting to take a cooking class.
I talked about how I wished I didn’t like Crocs. They looked ridiculous but were really comfortable.
He mentioned how he still had his library card from when he was a kid and would never get rid of it.
I told him a story about following the guy who’d haunted Salem’s streets in October—he was dressed as Michael Myers—and calling the police chief because I was convinced he was stalking somebody to kill. Turns out, his real name was Stan, and he was a retired investment banker. He just liked dressing up as Michael Myers.
By the time the second bar event rolled around, I was more comfortable with Nathan—at least via text—than I had been with anybody since my childhood. So when we met at the Fitzroy, a popular pub in downtown Savannah, for an early dinner and chat with the others, I was feeling much more relaxed.
“This place is cool,” I said as I sat between Nathan and Bree. I was really digging the atmosphere. “I hadn't been here yet.”
“Have you been anyplace other than where we meet you?” Bree asked pointedly. She’d been on a tirade the last week about me not using my prime placement in the downtown area to check out bars she’d never been to. Apparently, she trusted my opinion.
