“A book, you say... About us?” The words came out of your mouth with a mixture of surprise and indignation in a tone you didn't even know you were capable of. Lee had been a little unhinged ever since you met him, but that would be throwing caution to the wind and not even trying to catch it. Jesus Christ, you had to ask for strength to have the necessary patience with him.

After Monsignor Wicks passed away — or rather, died in a way he probably deserved — all the few parishioners were left without a clear direction, including you and... him. Which only made the famous saying that an empty mind is the devil's workshop even more true. The heated tension was already there before anything happened, but it undoubtedly evolved from mere tension to physical things, and suddenly, he was spending more time at your house than at his own. This wasn't a relationship, not at all... You hadn't done this since your college sweetheart cheated on you and traumatized you enough that you didn't want anything like this for the last eight years. You lost count of how many times you confessed your resentment, and how it wouldn't go away.

Lee was a good thing in your life, you could see that, but where should all your apprehension go? What you were doing was just a barrier... As long as it was casual, there was no way to be disappointed. The only dangerous thing was how much you enjoyed spending hours listening to him talk about his nerdy things and what he wanted to write. Until he suggested what snapped you out of your pathetic, lovestruck trance.

He wanted to write a book about how you two got to where you are — in your bed, maybe? You didn't understand — and he kept saying how great it'd be to write a crazy romance like yours with a murder that indirectly connected your poor, lost hearts and how much would that help him expand his knowledge. But, you just couldn't understand how that could be remotely brilliant when you didn't even give a name to the little sexual thing that happened between you... Or was that a good plot for his book?

“Why a book about us, babe? I mean...” You tried to correct your words, attempting to sound less pessimistic about an idea that wasn't very appealing to you. “A book about us might be interesting and all... But, why?” God knows you'd rather die than be mean to the man beside you, so you smiled while you spoke to make it at least a little kinder.

Lee turned over in bed, now propped up with his head on his elbow and his eyes fixed on your face as if you were the closest thing to an angel he had ever seen. “And why not?” He smiled back, in that exact way that made it hard to tell if he was joking or not. “You're pretty, you're wittt, and... You're mine. I want to write about you, about us. God who gave me this idea.”

“And what do you intend to do with it? A Christian book?” Not that it needed an answer; the way you let your gaze travel down his shirtless body and then back to yours already made it clear what you really wanted to say. His — supposedly — happy expression wavered for a moment, and you almost felt bad. “Write about all the shit we've been through in the last few weeks... But, change anything that could get you sued. It'll sell well.”

It wasn't a bad idea; he would think about it more, because he definitely didn't want to know anything more about the tedious book he wrote about Monsignor Wicks — which would only make him known among Republicans, and that wasn't a compliment.

He still wanted to find an excuse to write about you, even if you started to think he was a lovesick fool. “Yeah, it's a good idea,” he mumbled, just before gently grasping your arm and beginning to brush soft circles on your wrist with the tip of his finger. “But, I'm still going to make you my muse... Someday, you'll see...” Then, a gentle kiss on the pulse point of your wrist. “I just have to wait for you to stop treating me like a little secret, I guess.”