Unsuspecting Dreamer

Chapter 15 First Things First

I grab my mail on the way up to my apartment after work. It's been a week since the bar, and since that night Libby and I have exchanged texts. She keeps trying to convince me to give Steve a call.

On this very afternoon, September 9th 2014, I get a text from Hunter himself. As I unlock my door I reread his text; I've lost count of how many times I've looked at the message.

'Hey Ellie, this is Hunter. Libby said you guys had a fun time the other night. She said you met someone and I'm supposed to tell you to call him. So this is me telling you to call him. Talk to you soon.'

I still don't believe the text is real.

I sift through my mail on the counter. Bills, junk mail, more bills, a letter from my editor, a letter from Sarah. I am torn, both letters require my immediate attention. I weigh them in my hands. Sarah's letter is lighter, so I tear it open first.

It's full of the thoughts, stories, problems, and happenings of a newly turned 11-year-old. Unfortunately things did not work out for her and Rob. He called her stupid and she broke things off. While I feel bad, the way she tells it makes me laugh and smile. When I finish I turn my attention to the heavier letter, more like a packet, from Karen James.

I tear it open carefully, hands shaking. It's about my collection of short stories. I speed read over the top form. I'M GETTING PUBLISHED!... Well, a few of my stories will be included in a compilation, along with several others, but still.

I scream at the top of my lungs and I jump repeatedly around my kitchen. I wish I had someone to tell. I feel fresh pain dampen my excitement. I wish I could tell my mom. I will include it in my next letter to Sarah, but she won't get it for a month. Without much forethought, I pull out my phone. It's still open to Hunter's text. I hit reply and type in all caps.

'I'M GOING TO BE A PUBLISHED WRITER!'

It's already sending before I realize that was probably a mistake. But I can't seem to stop smiling and dancing around. I don't care.

I open up Pandora and turn up the volume. I dance along to 'Our Song' by Matchbox 20, singing at the top of my lungs as I pull tonight's ingredients for dinner out of the fridge. My neighbors are probably going to call and complain, but I don't care about that either. My dream is actually beginning to take flight.

My phone buzzes on the counter. I don't think of getting it because I am busy deciding what to prepare. I might live by myself, and eat by myself, but I have found that I love to cook.

Once the food is in the oven I clean up and scoop up my phone And gasp. It's from Hunter; I didn't really expect him to answer me. In 2 texts even!

'That's awesome! Congratulations!'

A couple minutes later he sent a second one.

'Libby says we'll have to celebrate the next time I'm back in town.'

I stare at my screen, uncomprehending the messages. My mind spins. 'I'm texting Hunter Hayes. He's congratulating me. He's offering to help me celebrate my accomplishment. What rabbit hole have I fallen down?' And just when I didn't think I could get more excited and blissfully happy.

I feel bold, I feel brave.

When I finish eating I go rooting through my multiple backpacks and bags for notebooks. I feel like celebrating, but it's Friday night and I need to get all of my week's thoughts down in one place. I open my laptop and start typing. 2 backpacks and my purse and reusable shopping bags hold enough written words and ideas to keep me busy for 4 hours, at least.

Out of habit, I search through every pocket for loose change. There's Steve's card, right where I left it last week. I pull it out and stare at it, absorbed in deep thought.

I am strong, I am brave.

I think I grew a new backbone within the last hour. I toss my computer aside, next to the pile of notebooks on the couch. I run for my phone, charging on the island. 'I can do this.' I dial the number and push the phone next to my ear. My heart is drumming at a hard and heavy pace.

He picks up on the third ring. "Hello?"

"Hi. Steve? This is Ellie, from the bar. How's it going?"

"Hey! I'm doing well. I had pretty much given up on hearing from you." There is a high level of surprise in his voice.

I am not chickening out; I've come this far. "So, I was wondering if you still wanted to show me around Nashville?"

"Yeah, I would love to! When works for you?"

"Um..." I think over my next week's schedule. "I get off weekdays at 3, and my weekends are wide open."

"Cool, well I've got a gig tomorrow night but... Monday around seven is free."

I pounce on the offer, "sounds good!"

We talk for a while. He won't tell me anything about what we will do on Monday; he says he'll take care of it. I don't know whether to be excited or scared.

When we finally hang up I notice how hard I am shaking. Still, I let out a crazy laugh. Today is filled with 'firsts.'

Again, I feel like if I don't share my exciting news with someone I will burst! 'Libby, I can tell Libby!' She will freak out. I try to remember what she said she was up to tonight, but can't. I decide to be safe and send a text; I might still annoy her but I don't want to bother her with a phone call.

'Guess who has a date on Monday?'

I leave it as an unanswered question, hoping she will take the bait. As excited as I am about my writing career tonight, this tiny little social thing has me even closer to hyperventilating. It needs to be shared, to be obsessed over.

I sit back on the couch, picking up the computer. I try to focus on typing, but I can't seem to get my brain to understand the words.

I must be the most ridiculous person ever. I keep thinking back to the only other date I have ever been on.

I was 16, he was in my A.P. English class- a senior. I'm pretty sure he was dared to ask me to the homecoming dance. Jarrod Carlson. When he asked me I was so completely stunned that I started choking on my own tongue. I said yes without even stopping to ask why.

My mom thought it was the beginning of something great, like one date would cause me to stop secluding myself and scribbling on every blank piece of paper that I saw.

She was half way right, it did change me. He left me alone all night at the dance, never spoke a word to me after we walked through the doors. Then he ended up leaving with another girl. I only found out when my curfew was long past and I couldn't find him to take me home. My dad treated it like it was one big joke, after yelling at me for being late and irresponsible.

Yes it changed me. I became even more secluded, and mistrusting of all guys. I learned to block out my classmates' cutting words and hurtful treatment. I became more driven to power through the rest of school. Unable to wait for the day I could leave the lot of them in the dust.

My memory is disturbed by the buzzing noise of my phone receiving a text. I fly off the couch again to see what the message says.

'AHHHH, that's so AMAZING! I can't believe you actually called him!' The enthusiasm is evident in her text.

My phone buzzes in my hand.

'What are you going to wear?'

I laugh to myself. Of course she would ask that. But it does make my brain itch with indecision.

'Thanks, not sure.' I reply, 'I'll get back to you.'

I turn my phone off. I need to concentrate, get my head back on my writing. It's already 9 and all I'm going to do if I keep procrastinating is make myself even more sleep deprived.

My story, my novel, is actually starting to come together. 'I love Nashville.' I think to myself.

Doors are opening, opportunities are endless, and I feel like I am starting to change into the person that I am supposed to be.