Part the First: When you’re trying to make out with your boyfriend but he insults your favorite book.
This one is for @ulriics‘ character Hobson, my love, my husband.
“You really didn’t like Edge of the World?” Hobson asked.
Elizabeth, who was very much otherwise engaged, said, “Hmmmm?”
“The book you read last week,” he reminded her impatiently. “Newly printed? Wildly popular? Black cover?”
“Hmm.” Elizabeth settled against his chest and rested her head on the perfect spot between his neck and shoulder. “No, I’m sorry, Derrick. I just didn’t enjoy it.”
“It’s not like I liked it,” Hobson muttered. “But I thought you would.”
“That’s okay.” She gave him a gentle, consoling kiss on the cheek. “I’m still glad you thought to recommend it to me.” She kissed him again, less consoling this time. The kiss after that started moving down toward his jaw.
He pulled her a closer and sighed but otherwise remained distracted. He continued, “It’s a dramatic adventure book. I thought you’d love it. It’s basically a retelling of Blind Mirror without all the family intrigue.”
“Hmmh---!” Elizabeth broke off to stare at him, brow scrunched in confusion and offense. “No it’s not.” He leaned back a little under her gaze, and she darted forward to brush his brand with a quick kiss to let him know it was all right.
He stilled for a moment. Possibly the reassurance embarrassed him. “Come on.”
“Blind Mirror is about…” She let go of him to gesture widely. “The worth of lives, even the ones that have been cast out or don’t last very long. And human connection!”
Hobson sighed and tightened his arm around her waist. “Fine, never mind.”
“No, you started this.” She let Hobson bury his face in the crook of her neck. He didn’t even dent her righteous indignation. “In Edge of the World, people just die and it’s sad. It doesn’t mean anything.”
“It never does,” he rumbled. One hand snaked around the back of her neck.
“It’s supposed to in my books,” she retorted crossly. “Authors can’t just… hmm.” She trailed off as Hobson pressed one warm, badly timed kiss to her neck.
“What?” he prompted, and not very kindly.
“When a character dies,” Elizabeth rallied gamely, “it’s supposed to serve a purpose. Not, ah, just be sad. Which exactly what… uh…”
“Edge of the World,” Hobson reminded her softly. His voice was practically at her ear.
“What that does. The entire time.” Her eyes started to flutter closed. Ever persistent, she started to try again. “And it wasn’t as though… uh…” She swallowed. “I lost my train of thought. The whole thing. It’s gone.”
Hobson hummed into her skin, which made it worse. “I win.”
