Stuck With You

goes black. I can hear the sound of hurried footsteps approaching, and th

speak, still reeling from my fall and the shock of actually finding him here. Up close, he's even more breathtaking than the carefully curated photos I had found online

d, but no words come out. I'm too overwhelmed, too star-str

alright?" he asks, his bro

to croak out, winci

asks after a pause. I swallow hard, my min

" I manage to stammer out, feeling

nd I can see the amusem

, I'm sure you cert

ends a thrill through me. Suddenly, I feel the

t out, the words tu

o intrude, I jus

em to bore into the very depths of my soul. T

nest," he says. Then he ex

let's ge

and the gentleness of his touch. As he helps me to my feet, I feel a surge of dizziness and my heart races in a way that has nothing to do with the fall. I'm acutely aware of his closeness, the warmth of his body radiating towards

ks me over. I take a moment to assess the damag

I've got a few bruises,

watch, transfixed, as his large, calloused fingers deftly probe the area, his touch sending tingles of electricity

but it's sprained," he murmurs, hi

it should make y

y voice barely audible. H

d and I'm immediately filled with a sense of loss. I find myself missing the warmth of his hand. My hand suddenly feels cold and empty. I yearn to reach out and take hold of him again, which is just stupid and weird. I fold my hand instead. He folds his arms

ing here? It's usual

s as I realize that I've been staring. I take

fan of your work and uh, when you disappear

ws rise in

an,

as I

riter too. Not like you though

sco

journali

y word. I blink, taken aback by his sudden change in de

did you find me

ddenly uncomfortable

ou mentioned this place as your haven. So I decided to...." My voice trails off, the words catc

terrogate me about why I left?" He ask

ke my

because...

aced with anger. I swallow hard, feeling t

about your work," I say, my

you and why stopped writing. I thought... I tho

ut a deri

" He s

just fine here, away from people like you who think t

has this encounter taken such an abrupt and unpleasant turn? I feel my temper

shoot back, my chi

t some nosy journalist, okay? I've to

donic smile. "Well, color me impressed. Tell me, do you have any books publi

m my face, his words c

you," I stammer, "but I've worked hard to bu

sigh and runs a hand thr

ou respect my privacy." He lets out a big sigh before he continues. "I know you must have envisioned a heartfelt welcome from me and then I'll spill my guts and you'd write

your bubble, but that's

erhead makes me pause. Dark clouds have begun to gather in the

minous clouds and then back to Hunter. Part of me wants to argue, to tell him that he can't tell me what to do and maybe, to also prove to him that I'm not a common write

I watch him go, my heart sinking with disappointment. This is not at all how I imagined my meeting with Hunter Graham w

day, I was met with nothing but rejection and rudeness. Is this how famous people are in reality? Has he always been like this or Had fame and success made him this way? Maybe he's going through some underlying trauma that has driven him this way of life and also probably made him retreat from the world. Still, it's not an excuse for him to behave badly towards me. These thoughts swirl in my mind as I trudge through the

ice a strained whisper against th

tart, p

before dying again. Something is not right. She usually starts on the sec

per, my voice cracki

to me, Betty.

reath, feeling the tension in my shoulders ease slightly. I turn the key again. But this time, the engine remains silent. I slump back int

heart. But the alternative is even worse. I can't stay out here, alone, in the dark with the night closing in. I take a deep breath, trying to steel myself. I know I have to swallow my pride. I have to go back there, even if it means facing Hunter's rejection. Anything is better than being dinner for any wild animal out here. I reach for the door handle, my fingers trembling. I step out of the car, the rain immediately soaking through my clothes. The wind whips at my face, carrying with it the scent of bad earth and pine needles. I grab my bag and pull it closer to my shoulder. I grab my flashlight and I shut the car door closed. I lock Betty up, hoping her rusted exterior would deter anyone from stealing any stuff in her. Then I click on the flashli