Chapter Eight — Lunch & Words
(Inara's pov)
The sun spilled golden light across the Westbrook High courtyard, painting the tables and grass in lazy warmth. I slid my notebook into my bag, hoping it looked like I was just doing homework instead of scribbling story ideas all week.
Elias was already waiting, sprawled across the bench like he owned it, a mischievous grin plastered across his face.
"Finally decided to join the living?" he teased.
I dropped my bag beside him. "It's called fashionably late."
He rolled his eyes. "Sure. And the clouds are purple."
We settled into our usual corner, away from Tess, away from everyone else, with enough sunlight to make the edges of my notebook glow.
"So," he said, leaning on one elbow, "what's the big plan for your novel?"
I opened it to the latest page. The paper was a mess — doodles, scribbles, half sentences, random quotes I'd stolen from songs.
"I'm trying to figure out how to start," I admitted. "I want it to feel… real. Like slow-burn, but not cheesy. And not sad at the beginning."
Elias leaned over, squinting. "Okay. First idea: every story needs tension. The character's heart is already in motion, even before they know it. Maybe the first line should hint at that."
I raised an eyebrow. "And you just… know this?"
He shrugged. "I'm full of useless wisdom."
I laughed. "Useless? You just made my first chapter feel like it has gravity."
He grinned. "Exactly what I do. Now, read it to me."
I cleared my throat and read:
Elara didn't believe in fireworks. She believed in the quiet moments — the ones that whispered instead of shouted, the ones that made you catch your breath for no reason at all.
Elias tilted his head. "Oooh, I like that. It's subtle. But maybe… you could show a little more about her day first? Then drop the line like a soft punch."
"Soft punch?"
"Yeah," he said, hands waving like a conductor. "It hits, but it doesn't hurt. It makes people pay attention."
I scribbled furiously, my pencil flying. "You sound like you've done this before."
"Only in my head," he said, tapping his temple. "Trust me, it works."
Lunch drifted past in quiet bursts of laughter and scribbles. Every now and then, our hands brushed when he reached for my pen, or I leaned in to show him a line. I felt a warmth spread in my chest that had nothing to do with the sun.
"You know," he said after a while, "you could make the second chapter about a small, ordinary thing. Like… making lemonade on a Saturday. Sounds boring, but you'd make it magical."
I laughed. "You're dangerously good at this."
He shrugged. "Just trying to save the world, one story at a time."
I paused, pen in mid-air. "You think someone like me could really write a whole book?"
He met my gaze. "I don't think. I know."
By the time lunch bell rang, Tess had appeared like an explosion.
"Why do you two look like you just solved world hunger?" she asked, arms crossed.
I glared. "We were working on a project."
"Working? Uh-huh. And by working, you mean staring into each other's souls while writing about love, right?"
Elias chuckled. "She's exaggerating."
"Liar," Tess shot back. "I have eyes."
I hid my grin behind my notebook. "Tess, it's a school project."
"You're hopeless," she said, dramatically flopping onto the grass.
After school, Elias and I walked home together, talking about characters, plot twists, and whether or not Elara should meet someone immediately or slowly, like real life.
"You're going to make the book feel like breathing," he said softly, brushing a strand of hair from my face.
I blinked. "Maybe."
"Definitely," he insisted.
We paused at my gate. Naomi was already outside, swinging gently on the porch swing, pretending not to eavesdrop.
"Bye, Elias!" she shouted. "Don't forget to play superheroes with Marco!"
"I won't," he called back, and then turned to me. "See you tomorrow, author?"
I smiled. "See you tomorrow, musician."
And for a moment, I didn't think about the future, or heartbreak, or anything but the warmth of the day, the feel of sunlight on paper, and the boy who made words feel like magic.
End of Chapter Eight
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Let me give you a hint for the tragedy that will happen... It's.. Rain