“Absolutely,” Ryan agrees, pulling out a side block and placing it on top of our tower. “Maybe other exes go for a drink and end up battling it out in a high-stakes board game in painful silence, but not us.”
“Definitely not us. How embarrassing would that be?” I purposely give him a creepy silent stare as I pull out my next Jenga piece. He sits back in his chair with a quiet laugh.
“It’s nice to know you still joke your way through uncomfortable situations.”
“I try my best.”
“So, seeing as we’re not a former couple who struggles to make conversation, why don’t you tell me what you like to do when you’re not writing?”
Polite conversation. So good to see you again. Please save me from myself.
“Well,” I say, watching Ryan pull out his next block, “when I’m not writing, or trying to, I visit my family or go out with friends—one of my two friends, to be specific. And of course my reading game is as strong as ever.”
“You always did live life on the edge.”
“I’m a creature of habit,” I say with a smile.
Ryan shakes his head, seeming amused as he surveys our tower, and I inwardly worry his engineering background will give him some sort of advantage. “Do you only read the type of books you write or do you read other kinds, too?”
I make my next move and easily stack my block on top. “Honestly, I’d like to say I venture out more into other genres, but ninety-nine percent of the time, I stick to romance.”
“Don’t you ever get bored?” he asks. “It has be repetitive after a certain point.”
“I can see why you would think that, but to me, they’re really not repetitive at all. There are so many subgenres of romance that if I ever do feel like things are getting a little stale, I just switch it up that way.”
“What do you mean by subgenres?”
I’m happily surprised by Ryan’s line of questioning and I immediately get a second wind. It’s crazy how just talking about books gives me life.
“I mean that novels can be categorized even further within romance. There are subgenres but then there are also subgenres inside subgenres. So my main subgenre categories of interest would be historical, which we already discussed, and contemporary. Within the historical subgenre, I love a good Western/cowboy romance but I have also yet to meet a Highland/Scottish romance I wasn’t down to read. In contemporary, I love a fun rom-com but I’m also always ready for a sexy military novel.”
“So the romantically horny possibilities are actually endless.”
I cough on my drink as I laugh a bit. “More or less.”
“Interesting.”
Then I pause, wondering if I should reveal this next bit.
Screw it.
“I also take pictures of books.”
Ryan pauses just as he’s about to place a block on top of the tower. “You take pictures of books? As in, professionally?”
“No, not professionally—I take pictures of books around my apartment for my author page on Instagram.”
“Got it,” Ryan says, finishing off his move. “Pictures of the books you wrote?”
“Sometimes, if I’m hosting a giveaway or if I have a new book coming out. But I mainly do novels I’m reading or ones I’ve already read. I deleted all my private social media after we...”
“I’m aware,” Ryan adds, filling in the short silence.
My breath catches a little but I go on, sliding out my next block. “So when I got my first book deal I started up my author page to try to get some sort of a following. Once I did, I noticed I only liked and followed pages that had pictures of books that were staged in these beautiful settings or that wrote reviews. I decided to give it a try and I liked it.”
“That sounds fun-ish,” Ryan says, seemingly trying to imagine what I’m describing. “So you’re like a secret librarian photographer?”
“The proper term would be bookstagrammer,” I say proudly. “And one of the best parts is that I’ve gotten a big enough following that once and a while publicists will send me a free early copy of a book from a publisher to promote on my page. Book mail is always the best mail.”
“Sounds fancy.”
“Very fancy.” I lift my drink and take another sip. My straw is pushed against the bottom of the glass, leaving me with a big gulp of alcohol and none of the pineapple or cranberry juice. I close my eyes against the harsh taste before I put my glass back onto the table. “And what do you do for fun?”
“Secret’s out,” Ryan says, leaning forward and peering around our steadily growing tower. “When night falls, I also take anonymous pictures of my favorite books.”
“You can try but it really is a highly competitive field.”
“So I’m learning.” He sits up straight, rolling a shoulder before carefully pulling out his next block. “Other than that, I go to the gym after work, I golf on the weekends, I’m in a fantasy football league...”
“Ugh,” I interrupt, “I’m sorry to bust in, but I firmly believe that fantasy football is a plague on our society.”
“And you’re entitled to that opinion. I firmly believe it’s the bedrock of our great nation.”
“Okay.” I chuckle. “You know, I’m sure fantasy football would be fine in moderation, but in my experience, that’s never the case. How many leagues are you in during football season? Tell the truth.”
“I may or may not be in three.”
“My point exactly.” I pull out my next block and the tower starts to wobble. I don’t feel comfortable breathing again until it steadies a couple seconds later.
“How do you know so much about fantasy football?” Ryan asks as I take a calming sip of my drink.
“My ex-boyfriend was in two leagues and he turned into an absolute freak of nature every Sunday.”
Ryan stops his block mid-pull, his eyes revealing a trace of something I know he doesn’t want me to see. Sensing my intrusion, he
