I scarf down two slices, realizing how hungry I’ve actually been the past few days and then grab some water from the sink and swallow it all down.
Walking back to my room, my phone chimes and I glance at it, momentarily forgetting about my embarrassing attempt at connecting with J Watson.
I don’t do this. I don’t stumble over my words, second guess my choices and especially not with women. Dark haired, good-looking, and suave as fuck, I’m the “Italian Stallion”. Being in the writers cave has got my head all fucked up. I open up my Instagram and click on my notification.
She commented back with a sly smirk emoji. Shit. My dick hardens in my pants and I seriously need to get the hell out of here and get laid. I've been holed up for three days straight, trying to finish this first draft and I don't even remember the last time I showered.
I shake my head, glancing down at her comment and press on her handle, pulling up her page.
J Watson
Romance author
Nashville, TN
No pictures of her, just her logo.
Since I stumbled on her page last week, all I've been wondering is if this is the same Jenna from that Dear Raya letter. J, from Nashville, author, her page looks new...it has to be.
I open the message tab, trying for a different route.
EnzoMorganWrites: Hey. You might not have any idea what I'm talking about but are you the Jenna from the Dear Raya column?
I sit down on my bed, holding my phone in my hand like a fucking idiot and then I see she's typing. Hell, what am I doing, how do I even know she's a she? Jesus Christ, I need civilization, I'm going crazy. I shove my phone in my back pocket of my sweats, padding to my kitchen to make some coffee.
My phone buzzes in my pants and I ignore it. I'm not going to be the guy that answers a message in two seconds. Nope. Not fucking doing it. It buzzes again as I press down the Keurig and I groan.
"Fuck it! I am gonna be that guy."
I reach for my phone, sliding to see the notification and my mouth turns up into a smile.
AuthorJWatson: I know taekwondo and I have a samurai sword in my bedroom. Who the fuck are you?
EnzoMorganWrites: Just a reader of the column and couldn't help but recognize the J and your location. Shouldn't put so much info out there if you're wary of creeps.
AuthorJWatson: I wasn't until you messaged me.
EnzoMorganWrites: Not a creep, just a fan. Your letter kind of lit a fire under my ass to take the plunge into writing myself.
She doesn't respond, doesn't even type and I scroll up to look back on our conversation.
"What the fuck am I doing?"
Okay. I'm getting out of this damn house. I exit out of my Instagram, opening up a text to my friend Danny and ask him to meet me at the Lucky Dog.
As if he can read minds, Cannoli comes barreling into the room.
"Yes, you're coming. Let me take a shower first. You smell better than I do."
An hour later I'm down the stairs of my apartment, Cannoli by my side as we take the walk to my favorite bar in Williamsburg, Brooklyn. It’s one of the few bars that allow dogs, and being as Cannoli is a puppy, I don't like to leave him for long periods of time.
Cannoli's grandpa, Blackie, belonged to my grandmother way before my mother and father even got together. Right before Blackie passed away, he knocked up another White Highland Terrier in the dog park on my ma's watch.
When the owner of Blackie's booty call got in contact with us, my ma felt guilty as hell and agreed to take a puppy. Like a true Morgan, Blackie Jr knocked up another dog at the park, this time under my father's watch, thus Cannoli was born. I fell in love with the little shit the second he pissed on my sister Chloe’s shoe. This time though, I stay away from the dog parks. I keep a close eye on him at the Lucky Dog, making sure I don’t have another puppy in the long line of Morgan’s not being able to keep their paws off the ladies.
I feel my phone buzz in my jacket as I walk inside the small bar, hooking Cannoli up to the leash hooks on the side of the bar tops. He walks right over to the bar knowing full well one of the bartenders will be over with a dog treat.
I take my phone out of my pocket, seeing the response from Danny that he’ll be here in ten minutes and I can’t help but notice the Instagram notification.
Click it you pussy.
I hover over the notification and the bartender interrupts as I order a beer. Waiting to take my first big sip of it, I finally press the notification and the message window pops up.
AuthorJWatson: Glad I could be of assistance. What do you write?
I smile, taking a sip of my beer as I type out a response.
EnzoMorganWrites: Would you believe me if I said romance?
AuthorJWatson: No, but I’d like to see you try and convince me.
I laugh, liking her spunk and see a flirt from a mile away.
“Okay Miss Watson, you want proof, I’ll give you proof.” I type out the latest dialogue between my hero and heroine, hoping to blow her mind just as much as she's been doing to me.
EnzoMorganWrites: “You have no idea do you?”
AuthorJWatson: No idea of what?
EnzoMorganWrites: “How much I want to make you mine, Miss Watson. Your smile, your laugh, your smell. I want to be surrounded by it for the rest of my life.”
AuthorJWatson: Not terrible. I’m more of a, “whisper sweet nothings as you fuck me like an animal” kind of girl. I’m a walking contradiction.
EnzoMorganWrites: Hold the door for me but then smack my ass kind of girl? I can get behind that...your choice ;)
I laugh, hoping that she doesn’t think my cheesy pick up line is creepy. I don’t want to be one of those guys that slide into girls DMs that they always talk about. Something about this girl says differently though.
AuthorJWatson: I’m not sure how I feel about going toe to toe with a romance author. You’re cheating. Your job is basically researching how to soak women’s panties and make them swoon.
EnzoMorganWrites: Is that how you work?
AuthorJWatson: I’m a woman, I don’t need to do research, I know.
“Hey man, what’s up?”
Danny’s voice breaks me out of my conversation and I look up, slapping his hand.
“What’s up, man. No Hammer today?”
“Nah. Left him home with Emily. She doesn’t feel good, so he’s keeping her company. What’s going on? Haven’t heard from you in like a week.”
He orders a beer and I take another big sip from mine, feeling the heaviness of my phone, the itch to answer it and continue on with our banter.
“Been writing. Got my first draft in, gonna sit on it for a few days then read it over before I send it to my editor.”
“I can’t believe it man. You, Lorenzo fucking Morgan a romance author!” He laughs, slapping me on the back and motions for the bartender.
“Joy, get us some shots. You know this guy is gonna publish some lady porn?”
Joy, one of the bartenders comes sauntering over to the two of us. She’s hot; blonde hair, blue eyes, fake tits I’m sure, but I smelled gold digger on her the second I met her. I don’t need an “accident” that will trap me into a nightmare for life.
“Hey there, Renzo. How’s it going? Missed you these last few days. Thursday night football wings and beers were calling your name.”
“Hey, Joy.”