The American Roommate Experiment (Spanish Love Deception #2)(40)

“Writer’s block is common,” Lina added. “So, we’ll unblock you.”

“Unblock me?”

“We’ll pop you right open.”

My hands dropped to my sides, my palms resting on the soft fabric of the cushions. “I don’t know, Lina. I don’t… even know what’s wrong with me. I’m just…”

There was a beat of silence. “You’re what?”

“I’m…” I trailed off. “It’s as if there were a hundred million things stopping me from writing and I just flatline when I try.” I shook my head. “I’ve tried everything, even acupuncture, because I read on some blog that it helped releasing endorphins that aided inspiration. It didn’t work.”

The line was silent, then a tentative, “There might be something you could try.”

“And that is…?”

Lina didn’t answer right away, which told me enough about whatever was coming. “Your second book is in the same universe, isn’t it? You told me you wanted to give his best friend his happily ever after.”

“Yes.”

“You mentioned that this time around the story would be a little more… lighthearted. That it would be about him battling modern life and adjusting to how things have changed in the wilderness that is dating nowadays.”

“Yes, I suppose I said that.”

“So,” Lina said very slowly, so much that the two-letter word dragged for a few seconds. “You could do the same. You could get back out there.”

I frowned. “Out where?”

“Dating,” she answered with confidence. “You’ve been holed up for… how long?” she asked, but I wasn’t given the chance to answer. “Too long. Maybe that’s the problem. You’re a romance writer. Trying to write about a man from the 1900s dating in present day. Maybe you should just… do that. If you think about it, you two are not so different. You haven’t dated anyone for at least two years.” A chuckle left her. “You and your hero are two beautiful and old-fashioned fish dumped in the twenty-first-century dating pond.”

A strange sound left my throat. I opened my mouth to tell her all the many and different ways her idea could go sideways, but I stopped myself. Because maybe, just maybe…

“It could work,” Lina said as if she’d just read my mind. “Listen, my first idea had been sex. Orgasms. I was going to suggest you get a new vibrator when you mentioned the endorphins, but I think you need the real thing this time around.”

I blinked, trying to process everything.

“You know I’m not good with hookups and one-night stands,” I replied.

“Exactly,” she answered quickly. “You need to be romanced before getting to the hanky-panky.”

“The hanky-panky?”

She ignored my question. “That’s why I think you should re-download Tinder. Or Bumble. Or whatever app the Zuckerberg of dating software has come up with this week.”

“A dating app.” I could hear the thick skepticism coating my voice. “What about the old-fashioned fish? I think I liked that better. Can we get back to that? Nothing good has ever come out of a dating app. Not for me.”

“Listen.” Lina cleared her throat. “I know you’ve sworn off apps—and men—for a reason, a good one at that. The last man you dated in particular, Assface Number Five, was… well, let’s just say he was lucky I didn’t borrow Aaron’s car and accidentally run him over.”

“Lina!” I gasped. “We’ve talked about you saying stuff like that.”

“Just a soft brush of the bumper against his ass. That’s all I’m saying.”

I shook my head. “You want to run over every man I’ve ever dated.”

Lina laughed but it sounded dark and… bloodthirsty. “Maybe because they’ve all been assfaces.” I closed my eyes, feeling… helpless and tired. Mostly because she was right. “My point is,” Lina continued, “that the long line of idiots you’ve dated is what somehow led you to write that phenomenal debut. And you can’t count on going down to Central Park, dropping a scarf, and hoping the man of your dreams finds it and proceeds to search the city—”

“Yeah,” I cut her off. “I don’t have the time, I get it.”

“You don’t,” she agreed gently. “So maybe, just maybe, downloading a dating app and getting back out there might change something. It might find you some inspiration. Jump-start the whole thing. Or clear your head and have some fun. That can’t be so bad, either.”

I hugged my middle with my arms, not wanting to accept that what she was saying made sense.

“Maybe you could even treat this as…” She trailed off, then continued more enthusiastically, “As research. Field work. As if you were running an experiment. Pick a man and do whatever you need to get those creative juices running. You don’t even need to tell him.”

An experiment.

I didn’t like the last part, though. I didn’t think I had the guts to trick someone into… whatever Lina was implying. Being dishonest had never been my thing.

Although I had lied to Dad for months, I reminded myself. And now I was lying—by omission—to Lina by not telling her that I was living in her apartment while she was away. With her cousin.