Page 51 of Someone Exactly Like Me (Wounded Hearts 1)
Good gracious, these are fine questions for a generic interview, but it’s also stuff I can find online. I need to go deeper. I need to get inside his head, his soul. I need to know what motivates him, what keeps him up at night, what terrifies him. Hmm, while I know I need to know these things to develop my character, I have to admit, I want to know the answers for myself. The more time I spend with him, the more curious I am about him.
In order to have a believable story, I need to come up with what it is he needs to attain, his “why” behind needing to attain it, and what his solution is, albeit misguided, to attaining it. Then I need to throw some obstacles and conflicts at him and help him uncover his true need and the solution that gets him tothatthing. I can’t very well come out and askhimall this. He won’t know.
And I have no idea how to ask him about his love life without basically calling him out as a playboy again, which, I’m discovering, there’s definitely more beneath the surface of this devastatingly hot, sexy man. I shouldn’t have agreed to this. I’m better with fictional characters. Okay, more questions.
What keeps you humble with your fast rise to fame?
What was your childhood like?
What motivates you when you’re having a bad day?
What do you want for your future?
What’s the one thing you want the world to know about you?
Why do you sleep with women, but rarely have relationships with them?
What turns you on about a woman?
What scares you?
What scares you about being in a relationship?
What’s your biggest fear in life?
I stare at the screen, reading the questions. Ugh, this is hopeless. I write fiction, fantasy, not reality. I inhale and blow out loudly. Okay, I think what I need to do is ask him these questions tomorrow so he feels like he’s fulfilled his part of our deal. I’m sure he’ll tell me things I can use. Then, I’ll make up the rest just like I know how to do. Done.
I’m not in the headspace to write so I print out my questions and pack my beach bag for our trip tomorrow. Sunscreen, book to read, snacks, two beach towels, beach blanket, four rocks, notebook with question page tucked in, and a pen. I fold up a sundress to put on over my suit for the winery and dinner, and put it in a separate bag. Then I get out my small cooler that I’ll pack with waters and ice tomorrow.
With showing Nicco around town, I haven’t spent much time on social media. Since I’m not writing, I invest some time making a few new posts, interacting with people, making a TikTok video, and working on my Pinterest board. It doesn’t take long to get lost in pictures of Nicco and Ponza Island. There isn’t a whole lot else on my board.
Remembering that he took a picture of us together at the Hollywood sign, I pick up my phone and slide the bar, tapping on my camera app. Finding the picture of us, I stare at it.What goes on inside that head of yours, Niccolo Mancini?
My phone rings, startling me out of my mini-trance, and I drop it in my lap. It’s Nicco.
“Ciao, mia dolce ragazza. How’s your day going?”
I tingle between my legs, remembering my shower fantasy and him calling me that. “Hi, good. How’d your meeting go today?”
“It was great. I really liked him and we had a very good conversation. I really connected with him. We talked about work and also personal things.”
“That’s awesome. I’m so glad to hear it.” I’m thrilled for him that he’s one step closer to making his dreams come true.
“Oh, your mom called to thank me for the gift basket. She said she loved everything. Thank you again for your help in picking out things she would like.”
“Good, I’m glad. You’re welcome.”
“So, I have a question for you.”
“Okay.”
“What are you doing this weekend?”
“Believe it or not, I’m going to Hawaii,” I announce cheerfully.
“Hawaii?”
