Free Closer Than They Appear by Jess Riley Page A

discomfort. “Well, also I sold my novel.”
    Motherfu—!!!!
    “Zach, really? Oh, that’s wonderful!” She hugged him again, and when she pulled away he felt lightheaded from her perfume. “Tell me all about it!”
    And he did, and she seemed genuinely happy for him. He didn’t dare ask about her new job because she’d know he was snooping on Facebook, so he simply asked, “You? How’s work?”
    “Oh, I got a new job! At Aurora. Better patient load, better hours, better benefits.” He felt himself zoning out while she told him about it, reflecting with sardonic wonder that this beautiful girl making polite, distant small talk used to send him the filthiest texts while he was at work. He felt heat creep up the back of his neck at the thought, forced himself to wipe the memory clean, and concluded that a pretty crummy version of hell would be to relive this moment over and over and over.
    When she finished talking about her new coworkers and shorter commute to work, he changed the subject. Again, going for casual and sticking the landing much closer to aggressively insecure: “So how’s Derek?”
    Strangely, Zach actually found himself hoping she and Derek were still together, because it would be somehow worse if she were single and still didn’t want to be with him.
    “He’s great!” She pointed to the other end of the bar, where her boyfriend was talking with friends and watching her carefully. He nodded gruffly when she gave a small wave. “He’s over there, actually. Speaking of, I should get back to him.” She paused, gazing at Zach thoughtfully. “It was great to see you, Zach. Congratulations on the book. Let me know when it’s out! I want a signed copy.” She took a small sip of her drink and added, “For what it’s worth, you know I always loved your writing.”
    “Sure.” He nodded, willing her to leave already, to stop looking at him like he was some shaking little dog in a dirty cage on a commercial narrated by Sarah McLachlan. At least she didn’t hug him a third time, because then his heart really might explode, or his brain might melt and leak out his ear.
    Josh stopped chatting with the girl in braids and returned to Zach’s side. “Just thought of a good one for Pretentious Asshole Bingo: Person who starts sentences with, ‘That being said.’ ”
    Zach sighed. “How about a person who starts sentences with, ‘For what it’s worth …’”
    Then, from somewhere behind him: “Hey, if it isn’t Steinbeck 2.0!”
    Zach gritted his teeth and manufactured a smile for the second time that evening. “Matt Nelson. What’s up?”
    Matt Nelson was another local writer. Privately, Zach always tacked a GD to his name, as in, “GD Matt Nelson.” It stood for Grammar Destroyer . He’d self-published a thriller last fall and now routinely posted screen shots of his Amazon ranking to his Facebook feeds: Cracked the top 100! I’m on fire! “Dude, just sold my forty-thousandth copy of Archer Falls . Can you believe that shit?”
    Forty-thousand people actually paid to learn that you can’t tell the difference between they’re, there, and their. Jesus wept. “Hey, congrats.”
    “Still writing?”
    “Yeah,” Zach said, thrilled he actually had a positive update to share. “I just sold my novel, actually.”
    Matt’s smile hitched ever so-slightly. “Oh yeah? That’s great! Who picked it up?”
    “It’s a small indie press. They specialize in gritty, urban fiction.”
    “Huh. I thought your book took place on a farm. So what kind of advance they offer?”
    Zach took a swig of beer, growing increasingly uncomfortable under GD Matt Nelson’s scrutiny. “Not much, but they do a great job with their authors.”
    But Matt had stopped paying attention. “Hey, I gotta split. Just saw Kara Peterson. Chick’s got nipples like fuckin pencil erasers.” He grabbed his beer and disappeared into the crowd.
    After he left, Zach let out a strangled sob. “How can such a gross human