Page 8 of The Writer’s Block

I roll my eyes. “All you want to do is lay by the beach and do nothing.”

“Of course, Josie. Why the hell else should people go on vacation? Every time you choose, we end up hiking and going to historical sites. I almost broke my ankle hiking in Switzerland. I shouldn’t come back more tired than I was before,” my dad complains.

“I say we go to Bora Bora or Hawaii,” my mom suggests.

I shake my head. “Not Hawaii. The locals are tired of tourists coming into their land and increasing the economic disparity.”

Caleb pulls me into his side. “What would we do without you?”

I shrug. “Go to Hawaii because you didn’t know any better.”

My mom chuckles. “Alright, kiddos. We will probably compete to see where we will go. Start thinking of places. See you both for Sunday dinner.”

We say our final goodbyes and go to our cars.

Caleb holds open the passenger door for me. Once I’m in, I lean over and open his door for him.

“Have you figured out what you’re going to do about your book?” he asks.

I shrug. “No idea. I redownloaded a dating app to see if I could find potential candidates.”

“And?” he pushes.

“I hate men.”

He grabs his chest as if in pain. “Including me?”

I snort. “Especially you.”

“You’ll figure something out,” he assures me, but he doesn’t understand how dreadful it is. Fish pictures should be illegal. Pictures where their phone covers their face is giving weird vibes. Why are you on a dating app if you are going to cover your face? I mean I can guess why they do it, but beauty is in the eye of the beholder.

“I’ll pick you up for practice tomorrow,” he informs me as he turns on the car. I knew this was coming, I just hoped he would forget.

I run my hand over my face. “Or—and hear me out—I stay home and not be in the sun for hours.”

“You need vitamin D and social interactions. It’s good for you.”

I purse my lips. “I disagree, but whatever.”

He pinches my nose. “My little sunshine. I can always count on your positivity.”

“Shut up and drive,” I grumble.

4

Josephine

I pause from typing on my phone and squint my eyes up at a shirtless Caleb towering over me, covered in sweat. I fight the urge to bite my lip at the sight of him.

Usually, I’m immune to his looks, but ever since he offered to have sex with me, I can’t get the idea out of my head.

“Wait, what?” I ask in reply to something he just said. I know I must have heard him wrong. Because no way did he say what I think he said. I’m getting delusional from this heat.

He dragged me out of my comfortable bed and to his football practice. The coach doesn’t mind me being here since he thinks I’m great. He has been trying to convince me to go on a date with his son forever now. I’ve met his son, and he’s annoying. Therefore, whenever the coach brings it up, I just smile and say, ‘maybe one day when I’m not too busy’.

Translation: on my deathbed.

He doesn’t know that, though.