he who writes my story | continued
“Dude, I called it.”
“You did not.”
Nick holds his ground. “I so did, Jenny.”
Jensen pays for their coffees and follows Nick over to an empty table, rolling his eyes and grumbling under his breath about annoying best friends.
For a Saturday afternoon, the cafe isn’t crowded, only a few scattered patrons paying attention to their tablets and laptops along with a couple of late-lunchers. It’s been two days since Jensen and Jared split dinner at his house-two days exchanging texts the way they normally would, yet with an undercurrent of tension that hasn’t gone unnoticed.
“I never said anything.”
“You know how much my mother likes to talk,” Nick points out once they’re sitting. “She told me how often you’re submitting chapters. Usually I have to listen to you complain about, like, your writer’s block and shit like that, but you haven’t bitched once about your new book.”
Jensen groans. If Kimi wasn’t the best in his genre, he would totally look for a new agent. “What else did she tell you?” he asks to gauge how much damage control he needs.
Nick takes a sip of his iced latte, sprawling in his chair. “She told me the book’s gonna be good, man. That tells me you’re in way over your head with Deputy P.”
“How’d you know it was Jared?”
“You’re kidding, right? You actually thought you were being subtle?” Nick laughs. Jensen has to resist the urge to kick his chair out from underneath him. Jerk. “I remember the night you guys met-I might as well have been invisible! Why do you think I made you exchange numbers?”
“Don’t say you planned this,” Jensen mutters.
“Never,” Nick says, “but it was pretty obvious you guys were into each other and not doing anything about it. Seriously, I thought you would’ve hooked up after the club.”
“Me too.”
“Aww, don’t worry, Jenny.” Nick smirks. “Jared wants you, trust me.”
“Jared doesn’t know about the stories. He thinks I’m a professor.”
“So tell him.”
Jensen sighs. “It’s not that simple.”
Nick waves off the protest. “There’s not a huge gap between professor and writer, man. Both careers mean you dress like an old man, you’re nerdy, and you spend way too much time on your computer.”
“You don’t have to be a dick about it,” Jensen says with a half-smile. “I bought your friggin’ coffee.”
Nick sucks on his straw defiantly. “Just trying to make a point. Jared won’t care.”
Jensen has plenty of evidence to the contrary, though. “You know what happened with Brian. I thought he’d be okay with it, too.”
“Brian was a douchebag,” Nick says flatly. “He was selfish. He thought your books were you fantasizing about other guys.”
“It was supposed to bring us closer.”
Nick leans across the table, expression suddenly serious. “That’s what you’re not seeing, Jen. You told him because you thought it would save your relationship, meaning there was already something wrong. Whether you told him or not, it was only a matter of time until you guys broke up. And you know what? Good riddance,” he adds, a bite to his words now. “You deserved better.”
Jensen feels like he’s glowing. He regrets all those years he lived too far away from Nick to have this kind of relationship. Moving back to Brookgreen was the right decision for more than one reason. If Nick didn’t already have five times as much money in the bank as Jensen, he’d offer to pick up the guy’s bar tab for life.
“Jared’s a better guy,” Jensen muses out loud.
“Damn right, he is,” Nick says. “Just talk to him about it. Then distract him with sex.”
“I tried-”
Nick groans and thunks his forehead on the table. “I don’t want to know. Seriously, I draw the line at relationship advice. I get enough gay porn from your books, man.”
#####
The following week is equal parts frustrating and invigorating.
Jared might be unnerved by the depth of his feelings for Jensen (and Jensen is starting to understand how that feels), but he’s definitely not avoiding the issue. He wants to hang out all the time.
Monday night, Jared picks him up and they meet Nick at the old Brookgreen Theater where they’re hosting a special back-to-back screening two of Nick’s old martial arts movies. Jensen and Jared hang back after the showings, fingers greasy from all the popcorn they ate, watching Nick sign autographs for at least three dozen eager kids and teenagers. Jensen takes plenty of photos and sends them to Kimi.
When the kids are gone, Jared steps up and teasingly asks Nick to sign his t-shirt, leading to a Sharpie battle that leaves both of them with marker scars on their arms and hands. Jensen hasn’t laughed this hard in a long time.
Jared drives Jensen back to his house and they make out in the cab of his truck like they’re teenagers themselves, coming away with bruised elbows and cricks in their necks from maneuvering in a small space. It’s absolutely worth the discomfort to enjoy Jared’s mouth again, to feel the wide grip of Jared’s hand behind his head while he sucks on Jensen’s tongue. His lips are pillowy soft but not too giving-Jensen loves the bite-back, the pressure, the demand in his kiss.
“You’re coming inside, right?” Jensen asks, hoping the double meaning serves as further enticement.
Jared drags his teeth over Jensen’s bottom lip, muttering, “I’ve got an early shift.”
Jensen growls and shoves him back into the driver’s seat. “You have got to be kidding me.”
“Sorry,” Jared says. Jensen might believe him if it weren’t for the fucking smirk on his face when he glances down at the bulge in Jensen’s jeans.
Jensen walks into the house alone and heads straight to his office. No passing go, no grabbing a fortifying drink from the kitchen, and definitely no dealing with the semi-boner he’s sporting as a result of making out with Jared. What he does do is sit down at his desk and bang out a new chapter, thoughts outpacing his fingers on the keyboard. Every word is a product of his sexual frustration. If Jensen isn’t having sex, then his characters shouldn’t either.
Kimi is going to love it. Jensen, on the other hand, wants to scream.
When he’s not teaching on Tuesday, Kimi forces him to Skype with Felicia so they can coordinate his social media campaign for the next few months. They chat about everything from his characters-”Oh my God, Jensen, you’re the worst for making them wait so long!”-to potential titles for the new book. Felicia promises to send him a few options, along with several blog updates for him to review before she posts them to Jack N. Lessene’s page.
Wednesday is the same. After rejecting Felicia’s suggestions, Kimi tells Jensen he needs to come up with a title by the beginning of next week so that she and Felicia can kick the marketing into high gear. It’s been a while since Jensen published a major story; they’re going all out for the new book.
Jared shoots him texts throughout the day and they make plans to meet at Marat’s for a late dinner after Jensen’s class.
“I ordered wine,” Jared says when Jensen sits down beside him. “Marat was telling me about this Malbec he tried last week…”
Jensen won’t remember what Jared tells him about the wine (something he’s taken more of an interest in ever since Marat helped him choose a bottle for dinner). He’s too distracted by the way Jared’s hands move, the life in his eyes, so different from when they met here last week after Jared’s rough shift. Marat catches Jensen staring and winks, turning away to greet another customer before Jared notices.
Jensen writes two additional chapters that night. Instead of swelling tension, these chapters are more romantic, focused on the feelings his characters are doing their best to deny.
The longer Jensen goes without sex, the more he writes. His frustration is the best writing tool he’s ever had. Not exactly ideal, because Jensen isn’t sure how long he can survive this level of unfulfillment before he spirals into writer’s madness.
Nick invites Jensen and Jared out to a bar on Thursday night. Jensen shows up early and corners Nick outside the door.
“Don’t say anything.”
“You mean, don’t tell Jared that you’re desperate for his d-”
Jensen shoves him against the door and stomps inside, leaving Nick laughing behind him. Jared finds them both at the bar twenty minutes later, reaching for the bottle of beer Jensen orders for him. Fortunately for Jensen, Nick’s attention is quickly stolen by a blonde with a devilish grin and bubble-gum pink lips, leaving Jensen and Jared to talk while they share a plate of loaded fries. Not exactly the caliber of food they would get at Marat’s, but the fries are definitely messy. Meaning Jared’s tongue makes plenty of trips to lick sour cream and grease from his lips.
Bar food has its advantages.
“My old boss from Dallas called today,” Jared tells them after ordering another round of beers.
“Did something happen?”
Jared quickly shakes his head. Like the other times they’ve gone out on Thursday nights, the bar is getting crowded, and Jensen has to lean close to hear Jared over the noise. Not that he minds. Jared must’ve showered after his shift-the ends of his hair are slightly damp and he smells ridiculously delicious, like cucumber and mint with just a hint of fresh cologne.
“Nah, he was just checking up on me.”
“It’s been years since you left Dallas, though. Right?”
“Special Agent Williams helped me get this job,” Jared explains. “I think he wants to make sure I don’t regret the move.”
Jensen presses a little closer, and Jared responds by laying his arm across the back of Jensen’s chair.
“Do you?”
“Not at all,” Jared assures with a warm smile. “I got frustrated working for the FBI. Too much of a hierarchy-not enough information. My partner had been there five years longer than I had,” he says, “and he kept a lot of secrets from me. He claimed it was all need to know stuff, but that was bullshit. It was getting harder and harder to do my job.”
Jensen has no chance to turn his frown into a smile before Jared looks over. “Don’t worry, I’m perfectly happy here,” he says, misconstruing Jensen’s concern.
Of course, Jensen’s thoughts are wheeling off in a different direction. Jared has trust issues. Crap. Just when he thought he couldn’t feel any worse about hiding his career, not to mention the fact that he’s using Jared for inspiration. He’s on the verge of confessing everything right there at the bar-well aware that it’s a terrible plan-when Nick glides up between them to order a beer and a round of shots.
“Where’s your date?” Jared asks.
“Her girlfriends just got here,” Nick says, handing a couple of bills to the bartender. “I’d introduce you guys, but what’s the point?”
Jensen laughs. “More for you, man. Have fun,” he says, hyper-aware of the drag of Jared’s thumb against his upper back.
“Planning on it, Jenny.” He takes the small tray from the bartender and orders two more shots. “Give ‘em to these guys,” he says, nodding at Jared and Jensen. “Liquid courage, my friends!” Nick’s laugh lingers in Jensen’s ear even as he walks away.
Jared is biting his lip, eyes fond when he looks at Jensen. “Something I should know?”
“What makes you think that?” Jensen grumbles.
Jared picks up his shot. “Liquid courage?”
“That’s just Nick being Nick,” Jensen says, grabbing his own shot and downing it in one go. Can’t hurt, he figures. Jared watches Jensen lick his lips before raising his glass and doing the same.
Jensen is already counting the number of pages he’ll be writing later tonight.
Eventually, the beer (and the shot) works its way through Jensen, forcing him to visit the men’s room. When he comes out, Jared is looming in the narrow hallway, shoulders practically taking up the entire width.
“We lost our seats.”
Jensen sighs, tucking himself beneath Jared’s outstretched arm. They’re alone in the hallway, no one around to witness Jared tilting down to kiss him, tongue moving slow and languid against Jensen’s because of the alcohol.
“So what should we do now?” Jared asks as he lays a line of warm, delicate kisses from Jensen’s ear down the side of his neck. Or, the danger zone, as Jensen refers to it, based on how rapidly he becomes aroused.
“Seriously?” Jensen groans. “You’re killing me here.”
“Liquid courage,” Jared taunts in a whisper, pulling away with an evil little twist taking shape in the corner of his mouth. “Wanna head back to the bar?”
“Not even a little bit,” Jensen admits, “but if I ask you to come back to my place…”
“I’d say no.” Jared is quick to kiss the pout off Jensen’s lips. “Ask me what I’m doing tomorrow night.”
Jensen blinks. Jared expects him to process information right now? “What’s going on tomorrow night?”
“I was kinda hoping we’d get together at your place.”
“For dinner?”
There’s that devious smirk again. “More like dessert.”
“Fuck,” Jensen curses on a long exhale.
Jared grins. “If we’re lucky.”
#####
Jensen looks at his phone and groans, setting his coffee aside.
“It’s too early for this,” he mutters to himself before he hits accept. “Morning.”
Kimi’s voice is chirpy in his ear. “I’ve just finishing glancing over what you sent last night. Seems like you’re getting close to the end. Got a title for me yet?”
“Haven’t been able to come up with one.”
“Felicia’s got a few more for you to consider,” Kimi says, “I’ll have her email those later this morning. Pick one, even if it’s not perfect.”
“You know I hate picking them,” Jensen reminds her.
“Then by all means, tell me how I can publish your story without one.”
Point taken.
“Anyway, once you send me the last few chapters, I’ll pass it on to my editors and let you know what they think, alright? Though I can already tell it’s gonna be a hit.”
“Appreciate that,” Jensen says. After what’s gone into this book, he’d be devastated if it failed. More than with his previous stories, this one feels like it’s been pulled straight out of his soul. “I’ll get back to you later.”
He hangs up and yawns, stretching his shoulders. Waking up late after a long night of creative endeavors is always a little tricky. Feels like his brain hasn’t come online yet. He worked on overdrive last night, pounding out several new chapters as his story came to a climax (not a literal one, unfortunately), mind filled with possibilities after Jared kissed him in that hallway.
Now, in the lemony light of mid-morning, Jensen’s thoughts turn to the night ahead. With the caffeine working its magic to provide a much needed boost of energy, Jensen cleans his bathroom and picks up the bedroom, making sure he has condoms and a new bottle of lube in his nightstand.
Though Jensen is distracted during his classes, he manages to get through them without stumbling all over himself. Office hours are tougher (why did he schedule them on Fridays?), stuck in the temporary office he shares with another professor in the same department. Only three of his students stop by asking for help with their latest projects, giving Jensen plenty of time to labor over whether or not to tell Jared about his book.
By the time he leaves his office, he still hasn’t decided. Jared deserves to know-if Jensen wants to continue seeing him, there’s no way he can keep it a secret-but Brian’s reaction sits sourly in the back of Jensen’s mind.
Texting Nick doesn't help. Like, at all.
You're the worst. JUST TELL HIM.
Jensen feels like the worst already.
Want me to tell him? EASY. You both like dick. You like WRITING about dick. NBD. See?
It scares Jensen sometimes, how often his best friend talks about dick. Then again, he's never been shy. About anything. Maybe Nick has a point, though.
Jensen is so wound up by the time Jared knocks on his door, he ready to just blurt his secret and be done with it, whatever. Then he opens the door and sees Jared looking like a cover model from one of his own ridiculous stories: suave and confident, each piece of clothing screaming rip me off this fucking second! Standing tall with his long hair brushed away from his face, slightly wavy and fucking blowing as if it’s caught a non-existent breeze.
It doesn’t matter who ends up on the cover of Jensen’s book; they’ll pale in comparison to the man walking through his front door.
As soon as said door is shut and locked, Jensen spins around with the sole intention of introducing Jared to the wall behind him, only to find the deputy holding out a colorful paper bag.
Jensen smirks. “Foreplay?”
“Fro-yo,” Jared laughs.
He grits his teeth to keep from screaming in agony. Jared, the ungodly attractive and unfairly delightful bastard must be able to read the direction of his thoughts.
“Told you I’d bring dessert.”
“I thought you meant dessert,” Jensen groans, “as in ‘I want to have you for dessert.’”
“We’ll get there.”
Not right away, apparently, Jensen thinks, following Jared into the kitchen. It’s dim aside from the low light spilling in from the hallway and a few pillar candles Jensen had lit before Jared knocked on his door. Jared sees them and smiles.
What? Atmosphere is essential.
The next twenty minutes are an exercise in self-restraint that Jensen is pretty certain he fails. He can only watch, slack-jawed and tongue rolled out like a lovesick cartoon character, while Jared enjoys his cup of frozen yogurt: dragging the spoon over his tongue, teasing Jensen with a smile when he licks sticky caramel from the corner of his mouth. Jensen scowls (which only makes Jared chuckle) and ruthlessly bites down on one of the half-frozen blackberries in his own cup, wondering if Jared is tormenting him on purpose. This-the fro-yo, the tongue-action, and the devious glint in his eye-all seems calculated to wind Jensen up until he goes mad.
And it would be a fucking genius plan (because Jensen wants him even more now) if it weren’t for the fact that Jensen will be ruined before they get to do anything.
Jensen finishes his dessert and waits not-so-patiently for Jared to swallow his last spoonful, arms crossed and pulse kicking up. Jared crumples the paper bag and throws it away along with his cup, and Jensen thinks that he’ll finally be allowed to kiss the crap out of the man.
Then, Jared looks at him and says, “Coffee?”
Jensen loses it.
“What are you waiting for?” he whines, head in his hands. “Is there a secret code I’m supposed to use to let you know that I want to have sex with you?”
Jared grins throughout his rant, gazing at Jensen like he’s a precious little puppy barking for attention. That expression loses some of its softness, however, when Jensen stops talking.
“The truth would be nice,” Jared says.
Jensen’s frustration immediately burns out, leaving him empty yet still uncomfortably turned on.
Jared sighs. “I’m a cop, Jensen. I know there’s something you’re not telling me.”
Jensen slumps against the counter. “That obvious, huh?”
“To me, yeah. Though, to be fair, the way Nick acted around us was a big clue.” He fixes Jensen with an easy stare. “I’m sure it’s no big deal-I know you’re a good guy-but it’s obviously weighing on you, and you feel guilty about whatever it-”
“I’m an author.”
After holding it back for weeks, getting it out is a relief. Jensen expects wide eyes, a look of shock or at least mild surprise, but Jared just keeps smiling.
“Well, yeah. I figured out that much.”
“You did?”
Jared’s forehead creases when he nods. “You teach writing-you must’ve had something published at one point.”
Fair point. “I’m a fiction writer. That’s my real career. The job at CLCC is temporary while I work on my new book.”
“See?” Jared steps close and puts his hand on Jensen’s shoulder. “No big deal, right? I think that sounds pretty cool.”
Jensen so wants to tuck himself against Jared’s warm chest and get on with the more entertaining part of the evening, but the scene is only half finished.
“I write romance novels.” Jensen doesn’t cringe-he takes pride in his work-yet he knows how it sounds to other people. Fifty Shades can fucking suck his-
“That’s kinda sweet,” Jared says.
“Gay romance.”
“Even better.” He laughs. “You’re not gonna scare me off. You were seriously worried about telling me?”
“It’s erotic romance,” Jensen clarifies. “People are weird about that kind of thing. My ex broke up with me after I told him.”
“Why would he do that?” Jared is close enough for Jensen to feel the concern he’s projecting.
Jensen shrugs. “He thought I was using our sex life for inspiration, I guess. When he found out I wasn’t, he got even weirder, like I was cheating on him by writing those scenes.”
“Sounds like a total dick,” Jared says, hand moving down Jensen’s arms until he can link their fingers.
“I moved back here after that. Needed a change of scenery.”
And a new muse, he adds to himself.
“Then I’m glad it didn’t work out,” Jared tells him, and finally they’re kissing again. Thorough, no-corner-left-untouched kisses that Jensen’s going to remember for many nights to come.
Just like he’ll remember the way Jared push/shoves him towards the bedroom, reservations all but gone, and the near frantic breaths he takes while watching Jensen strip out of his shirt and jeans. Jensen will definitely will never forget seeing Jared naked for the first time. Toned by years in a physically demanding job (not to mention training with Nick, which, Jensen knows from personal experience, can be brutal) and not a bit shy to find himself facing Jensen wearing nothing but a smirk.
The visuals are good, but the sex is better. In the span of a single night, Jared takes Jensen on a ride the likes of which he’s never enjoyed before. His enthusiasm for sucking cock has Jensen shredding his favorite sheets without a care, gasping up at the ceiling fan, dizzy and completely wrecked.
While Jared waits for him to recover, his fingers move in long lines down Jensen’s chest, soothing and distracting in equal measure. As soon as Jensen regains control over his body, he throws Jared back against the pillows, set on showing him that his oral skills are just as sharp as his literary talents.
If Jensen thought the sexual tension between them was inspiring, it’s nothing compared to the physical reality of fulfillment. Jensen’s creative mind is drowning beneath the weight of ideas. He wants to remember the careless way Jared’s arms are thrown over his head when Jensen sucks a mark above his hipbone; the skip in Jared’s breathing as Jensen strokes the sensitive skin between his legs. Details Jensen never even imagined before, all coming to life under his hands.
He can’t wait to start writing.
Actually, scratch that. He’ll wait until Jared lets him go. Based on the grip he has on Jensen’s shoulders, that won’t be until sometime tomorrow morning.
And Jensen is totally fine with that.
#####
“Can I ask a personal question?”
Jensen can’t quite turn his head to look at Jared, so he says, “After what we just did? I’d say we’re on a very personal level with each other.”
Jared chuckles and squeezes Jensen a little tighter before releasing him to lie back on the bed. Jensen stretches his deliciously sore muscles and shifts around to face the deputy, waiting. He’s happy to lie here like a dope for the rest of the night, but obviously the gears continue to turn in Jared’s mind.
“Why didn’t you write scenes based on what you and your ex did?” Jared hesitates. “Wasn’t it good?”
Assuming Jared doesn’t actually want details about his sex life with Brian, he shakes his head.
“That wasn’t the issue. Good or forgettable, what we did wasn’t inspiring for me, you know? I never wanted to use the experiences, and I don’t think he would’ve been comfortable if I asked him to...you know.” Jensen motions between them. “Help me with my research.”
(For the record, sex with Brian was generally forgettable. Someday, Jensen will make that clear to Jared.)
He doesn’t know what kind of reaction to expect, but it’s definitely not the subtle darkening of Jared’s gaze, lips parted to draw a heavy breath.
“I wouldn’t mind,” Jared says.
God help Jensen, he’s fucking getting hard again.
“In fact, the whole idea is seriously hot. You can use me for research anytime, Jen. I mean it. I am totally willing to offer my body”-he indicates his naked, mouth-bruised chest-“for the good of your career.”
What the hell can Jensen say after an offer like that? His tongue is thick in his mouth, pulse pounding like a freight train at his temples.
And then he remembers that he’s already used Jared. Taken his smile and his strength and his charisma-even his gentle vulnerability-and filled countless pages in his honor.
“Jared?”
He looks up from his thorough study of Jensen’s sweaty torso. “Hmm?”
“There’s something else I need to tell you.”
#####
“What name do you write under?” Jared asks.
Marat sets a glass of wine in front of Jared (he claims he’s gaining an appreciation for the stuff) and an iced grapefruit soda at Jensen’s elbow.
“I googled you. I know you don’t use your real name.”
“It’s an anagram of my name,” Jensen explains, writing JACK N. LESSENE on a cocktail napkin. “Kimi came up with it.”
By now, Jared knows all about Jensen’s demanding agent. Also known as Nick’s mom.
Jared ponders the name on the napkin for a moment, fingers tapping the side of his glass. Jensen both anticipates and dreads the moment of recognition. He’s not exactly a household name, and there’s a god chance that Jared’s never even-
“Oh, wait a minute! You wrote The Boathouse, didn’t you?”
Marat is totally listening. Jensen groans; it’s only a matter of time before he knows Jensen’s secret identity, too.
“My sister gave me that book years ago,” Jared is saying. “I thought she was nuts at first, ‘cause I thought everything in that genre was overly-romantic and boring, but damn, the stuff you wrote in that book was so hot. I can still remember the whole plot: two famous actors, escaping the pressures of their public lives by meeting up secretly in Texas. I think I still have my copy,” he admits. The blush on his cheeks gives Jensen a little thrill. “It’s not exactly in any shape to put on my bookshelf, though, if you know what I mean.”
Oh, Jensen definitely does. The idea sends a shiver down his spine.
Jared took the news that he was Jensen’s muse with delight. He’s the opposite of straight-laced Brian, and has turned ‘inspiring’ Jensen into his new personal cause whenever they get together, which, over the last week and a half, has been almost every single night. Despite being run ragged, bent and pulled and worked until he was a writhing mess on the sheets, Jensen still found the energy to haul himself out of bed and write afterward, something that seemed to please Jared as much as the sex they just had.
Okay, not as much. Still, Jared was pretty smug about the whole thing.
Jensen sent the final chapters to Kimi that morning and proceeded to spend the rest of his class-less day in bed, alone, to catch up on sleep. Jared’s text asking him to meet at Marat’s for dinner came just after Jensen woke up, still groggy, but he quickly accepted.
“When can I read the new book?”
“When it gets published, just like everyone else.”
Jared’s fingers find and exploit a ticklish weakness on the side of Jensen’s ribs. The man flat-out refuses to play fair, and Jensen loves it.
“That doesn’t seem right, considering I’m basically the reason you wrote it in the first place.”
Jensen smiles. “I’ll see what I can do about getting you an advance copy.”
“Tell the author I’m willing to trade favors,” Jared says, leaning close enough for Jensen to catch the fresh, citrus notes of his favorite cologne, “if that’s something he’s interested in.”
It’s statements like that which make it difficult for Jensen to focus when he’s around Jared.
“Is there anything else I can help you with?” Jared asks, squeezing Jensen’s knee under the table while Marat runs Jared’s credit card for their discounted bill. “You know, for the book? Or maybe something a little more personal?”
“Actually, there is one thing…” Jensen trails off, lets his lips drift close to Jared’s before pulling away with a smirk. Jared huffs, white teeth shining when he smiles. “The book kinda needs a title.”
Jared laughs. “That’s a little out of my jurisdiction, Jen. But if you need to research anything else, I know a place close by…”
Marat barely gets a chance to wave before the two of them dash out of the bistro and into the night.
#####
Out of his Jurisdiction by Jack N. Lessene hits shelves (and eReaders) two months later. As Kimi assured him, it’s an instant hit with his fans, download stats creeping further and further up into new territory every single day.
Nick throws Jensen a party at Marat’s: a small but enthusiastic affair to celebrate the release. Even Kimi flies in for the occasion, bringing Jensen the first five copies of the book.
“It’s her custom,” Jensen explains when Jared asks about the small stack. “This way I have a few to give away, but I tend to keep most of them.”
Jared picks up the top copy and smiles at the title. “If I’d known you were gonna use that-”
“Shut up. It’s perfect,” Jensen says, taking a sip of his wine and waiting for Jared to open the front cover.
If picking a title is difficult, writing the dedication is worse. However, for this particular book-part one of what’s going to be an enjoyable series to write-Jensen knew exactly what he wanted to say.
Jared admires the cover for another moment before flipping past the copyright to the dedication. His gaze turns soft and he smiles.
for the deputy
who writes my story.
FIN.
Thank you for reading! ♥ All comments and love are treasured. Apologies for the jokes from Twitter :P