My Cover Model (A Love Like That #1) - R.L. Kenderson Page 0,52

when I was young. I needed to stop worrying about what Travis thought.

I threw my phone onto the other side of my bed.

I needed to just take a step back from him and maybe even forget about him for a while. Like all crushes, it would pass if I just gave it time.

Travis

I set my fork on my plate and picked up my napkin from my lap. After wiping my face, I threw it on the table. I’d eaten too much, but it was worth it.

I pulled out my phone from my pocket and saw that Sydney had messaged me. My grin was so big it almost split my face.

“Whatcha looking at?” my sister, Sloan, said as she looked over my shoulder. “Ooh…is that the author you went to Chicago with?”

“Yes,” I said as I put the cursor in the response box.

“Do you like her?”

I looked at Sloan. “I think I do.”

Her face got serious. “Is she anything like Christy?”

I shook my head and smiled at my big sister’s overprotectiveness. “Far from it.”

“Okay then. I say go for it.”

“Wasn’t looking for your permission, but thanks, sis.” I went back to my phone and started typing.

Thirty-One

Sydney

There was something about mornings and the new light of day. It made the things that you’d worried about the night before seem not as big of a deal.

I thought about the things that had upset me before I went to bed, and while they still bothered me, I knew I would get past it, and life would go on easily. So easily that I didn’t even pick up my phone before or after I got out of bed.

I had learned that I got my best writing done in the morning and that the best way to do that was to stay off social media. I could get so caught up with looking at funny memes and reading news articles that I would see hours of good writing time go down the drain.

I went downstairs and grabbed a cup of coffee. About a year ago, I’d made it a habit to set my coffee to auto-brew, so I wouldn’t have to wait for it in the morning. I filled up my favorite mug and headed back upstairs to my office.

I hit Ctrl+S on my computer and stretched my arms over my head. I’d done some good writing.

I looked down at the clock in the corner. Dang. I’d been working for almost three hours straight. I needed a break. Maybe a shower.

I was really into my story, so I wasn’t surprised that I’d worked that long without stopping.

I was writing a story about an FBI team of a man and a woman who had been together for years and saw each other as more than coworkers. After working long hours together, they’d also become best friends. To the point where they told each other everything, including when they’d had sex even if it was bad.

My main characters had to go undercover and pretend to be a romantic couple. It was nothing unusual. They’d done it a half-dozen times or so before this, but in this case, they were staying with the person they were investigating, and the room was wired. There would be no one sleeping on the couch this time around without the bad guy getting suspicious.

My favorite part, which I’d just finished writing, was an awesome sex scene. In the beginning of the book, my heroine had complained to the hero about how she’d gone on several dates with a guy but called it off when he gave her lousy head.

Fast-forward to the scene I’d just written, and the hero spread the heroine’s legs and told her, “This is how you eat pussy.”

Just thinking about it had me rubbing my hands together and giggling on the way to my room. Sometimes, I had to work hard to make everything fit, and sometimes, things just magically fell into place.

I went into my bathroom and turned on the shower since it always took a million years for the water to get warm. I stripped off my clothes and threw them in my laundry basket in my walk-in closet. On my way back to my bathroom, I saw my phone and figured I’d better check it.

I had quite a few notifications, most of them nothing important, and a couple of messages. Lexie had messaged me before school, and Travis had messaged me, too. Last night. I hadn’t heard it because I put my phone on silent after a