Cece Writes A Book [COMPLETED]

Chapter 4 - "You're thinking of vampires."

It turned out that the 'worst that could happen when writing at a ballet studio' was Cece yelling at a group of six and seven-year-old girls.

Cece didn't mean to but they had congregated outside of Tristan's office. They were waiting for their ballet class to start and they were talking with the most obnoxious voices. Cece was certain her voice had never been that annoying when she was their age.

One moment, Cece was cursing them in her head as she tried to write and the next she was out in the hall with fifteen little girls dressed in pink, huddled together, looking at her in terror.

Tristan had appeared at her side a moment later, shoving her back into his office and giving her a threatening look before he left to smooth the whole thing over. By the time he made it back to the office, Cece had all her things packed in her bag.

"You're leaving?" Tristan asked.

"I just yelled at kids half my size and age. I think this is a new low."

Tristan waved her worry away. "The kids are fine. They are used to seeing me yell at my dancers, minus the whole 'trying to write' part," he said. "Stay."

Cece shook her head as she slung her backpack over one shoulder. It hadn't been just the kids talking. She hadn't written a thing since she had arrived at Tristan's office. Even though he had cleared space for her on his desk and taped up a 'Do not disturb' sign on his door, Cece had nothing.

She had forced herself to stare at the blank screen for a while, wondering if it was a lack of dedication on her part. But after that had nearly driven her insane, she had organized all of Tristan's desk drawers. She had then made herself sit back in front of her computer just as the little girls had started to gather outside the office.

"Thanks for trying to help, but it isn't working," she said.

Tristan only nodded as they switched places, Cece moving towards the door, while Tristan moved behind his desk.

"Cece?" he said, as she reached for the doorknob. She looked back. "Did you organize my desk?"

Cece shrugged like it shouldn't be a surprise anymore and left. She was hoping a break from the hairspray tainted air of the ballet studio would help clear her head, but four blocks away from the studio her brain still felt hazy from writer's block.

She wandered from the South End of Boston through the Back Bay. With nothing but more organizing waiting for her at home, she was in no rush. Without consciously deciding where she was going, she ended up at The Thinking Cup. She became aware of her location just outside the door and she looked at the sign with contempt. She didn't need a 'thinking cup', she needed an 'inspiration cup'.

Elliot came to stop beside her, following her in observing the sign.

"I always thought they should have put a brain in the teacup. It would have worked better with the name."

"That would be false advertising," Cece said.

Elliot conceded with a nod. "Plus, if we think tourists are bad, imagine the shop overrun with cannibals."

"You would get hit on a lot more," Cece offered.

"I was always told I have a good-looking neck," Elliot admitted.

"You're thinking of vampires."

"Cannibals don't eat necks?"

Cece grimaced at the image and dropped her gaze from the sign. All she saw now was a brain in the teacup.

She looked at her sister. "What are you doing here?"

"I needed to figure out the ending to my scene. I see writing at Tristan's office went well."