Cursive - By Phoebe Lane Page 0,2

in Denver?"

"Yes, I did," Aislynn said with a roll of her eyes. "I didn’t in San Francisco though."

Aislynn had taken full advantage of the perks of having a best friend that was able to get her temporary accommodations in different cities through her company. The only drawback was that she needed to move out quickly whenever the property was rented by a full-paying client.

"Aren’t you tired of the constant moving?" Ellie asked.

"Says the girl that can’t even commit to hair color," she said as she walked back to her room. "See you tonight!"

Aislynn stared at the contents of her closet wondering what she was supposed to wear to a meeting with an editor. Taking out a few choices and lining them up on top of the bed, she secretly gave thanks for Ellie’s fashion obsession. Even though she had never been much into clothes, spending time with Ellie had increased her fashion IQ by several dozen points. She had even insisted on introducing Aislynn to French satin and thus forever convinced her to give up sleeping in ratty old t-shirts. The tall, non-serial killer looking stranger with the delicious mouth needed to send Ellie a thank you card for the free peep show he had gotten that morning.

Aislynn felt really nervous about her meeting and pacing around the apartment rearranging things that were already in order did absolutely nothing to help her. She'd always had an interest in writing and literature but had almost no experience in the field. Her life plan had been written up and laminated into a compact three by five index card by the time she was seven years old, and she had never strayed from it. Even the fact that it took over a decade of higher education to complete her degree hadn’t scared her enough to change her mind.

Until now.

Aislynn's decision to leave her hometown in Texas was still considered by most of the people who knew her to have been rather impulsive. Nevertheless, she was still convinced it was the perfect time for her to take a detour off her life path. Her goal was now to pursue her dream of writing a novel, a story that had been cooking up in her head for a few years.

Scenic route, here I come.

After deciding on a knee-length belted dress and black pumps, she styled her golden brown hair in an intricate braided bun, a more professional version of the messy ponytail she usually wore. Her hair had grown so long in the last year that it was difficult to tame unless pinned down somehow. She stared at herself in the mirror, second-guessing her choice for longer than it was really necessary, but finally deciding to go with it.

She drove to the hotel where she had agreed to meet her editor and tried in vain to control the butterflies flapping around in her stomach. As she walked into the hotel lobby, she was crudely reminded of the words she had said to Ellie’s client earlier that day.

Life and its damned dark humor.

Out of the corner of her eye, she recognized his silhouette immediately. It was the last person she expected or wanted to see at that moment. Christopher was in San Diego.

What the hell is he doing here?

Aislynn felt her fight-or-flight response system immediately turn on full force, the adrenaline rapidly coursing through her veins.

Sinking feeling in her stomach? Check.

Pulse rate and blood pressure doubled in two point five seconds? Check.

Sweaty and trembling hands? Check.

Consciously willing her body to breathe? Check.

Ears ringing? Check.

Pupils dilated? Check.

And for the record, it was no easy task going through that process while walking in four-inch heels.

It's my Christopher.

He walked across the lobby without noticing her, allowing Aislynn a chance to rush to the elevators on the east side of the hotel—the farthest ones from where he was now standing. Aislynn knew the elevator wouldn't come faster just because she pushed the call button a dozen times, but it still didn't prevent her from hitting the damn thing repeatedly.

Ding.

The elevator doors opened. Time for flight.

Her mind still reeling, she tried to give herself a few moments in the hallway to catch her breath and slow down her heart rate.

I thought I had gone far away enough that I wouldn’t have to deal with—

The alarm on her cell phone interrupted her thoughts and reminded her it was time for the meeting with her editor. Taking one last deep breath and pushing her thoughts aside, she walked over to the suite’s door