Two days had flown by since Marcus had moved in across the hall and with that first day since meeting Jasmine, it had been their only encounter with each other. The memory of her refused to leave his head, the day when he came to ask for sugar. He laughed now at the notion of meeting her once and only once even though they lived straight across the hall from one another. He found himself becoming quite enchanted with her.

Jasmine hadn't left her apartment at all for anything. She missed dozens of phone calls from friends and now had a voice box full of unread messages.

She was still floating away in her dreams, the enthusiasm of wanting to finish at least six long and perfected chapters was veering her dreams into a wishful state of bliss.

Jasmine awoke in a fright, jumping up from her desk to see a new day had taken place. Her face felt different, she patted her cheek to feel a piece of paper stuck there. She clawed it off and shoved away from her desk. She was in desperate need of a hot shower, having one side of her face covered in dried up drool was a cause for caution.

She lazily made her way into her bathroom and shut the door, stripping away her clothes as she ran the hot water, deciding to take a nice soak before she returned to writing.

~ ~ ~

Her bath took an hour since she really had to let her mind relax. When she was done she drained all the water, blew out the candles and wrapped a towel around her. Jasmine walked into her office, not fully dried off, but she had an idea buzzing about in her skull.

She had to focus, but all her ideas just burnt up as soon as she took pen to paper or her fingers to the keyboard. She had deleted so many scenes and pushed aside so much missed works of art that she started a file of deleted scenes for just this one story, both on paper and digitally. To her she needed it to be a romance, but more comedic, more dramatic and fun... and original too. She lacked a certain amount of originality in her last novel and that mistake will not be repeated twice. The reviews were decent, but for a seasoned writer like her, she couldn't lack creativity. She was wedged between a rock and writer's block, her mind provided her with so much juicy tales, but once she sat down to write out her thoughts on paper she went as blank as her Microsoft word screen.

This wasn't going well. She promised a rough draft to her editors in three months. She needed to get it together. She couldn't afford to bring Kara a ten-page draft with pointless dialogue, random scenes and the most awkwardly placed moments between the antagonist and the male lead. She was annoyed, she was bloody annoyed and her days in solitude had made her into a walking zombie. She yearned for this story to come out proper, but her thoughts pumped out useless material that wouldn't make the cut.

Maybe the trip had drained her of her creative juices, or maybe her brain just didn't want to think of writing anymore. She swore loudly, kicking herself away from her desk before she began doing her walk around the room.

Her anger from working tirelessly for almost two days had her edging closer towards insanity. She didn't want to have to think so damn hard for an original rom-com story.

But then therein lies the problem. The originality, she'd been writing her work with ideas from other writers that she's read from, but this one... It had to be all hers. It needs to be. She huffed out in dissatisfaction and slumped down in her chair. "Fuck!" She was stressed and she didn't even want to continue the damn story anymore. All her motivation and drive depleted as she lobbed her head down. "I don't even have a title yet..." she sobbed.

A knock echoed through her quiet apartment and she cursed whoever it was that was interrupting her hissy fit. She grumbled miserably but got up nonetheless and forced herself to walk towards the direction of the knocking.

She yanked the door open with intentions to bombard whoever was interrupting her with merciless questions as to why they were disrupting her moment of sorrow. She was about to fire the first question when she saw the face of Simon staring back at her. She bit her tongue then sighed. "S—Simon what are you doing here?"

"Well, I tried calling you several times to tell you about your upcoming book signing—since Andy couldn't reach you and since you weren't answering our calls. I thought a visit would suit the situation fine." her jaw hit the floor.

"Oh my God, oh my God, my phone—I am so sorry. I was so tangled up in work. I'm sorry Simon, really."

"Do not be. I know how it is being so busy; besides, you seem to have been stressed since you're not even wearing clothes."

Her eyes widened as she looked down and saw that he was right and that she was still covered by her towel and nothing more. She chuckled nervously and stepped aside. "It would be rude to not allow you in after wasting gas driving over here and... your time calling me." he nodded, a small smile playing on his lips.

She was such an admirable girl, he thought, very kindly and sincere. "Thank you."

"No prob. I'm gonna get dressed, I'll be right back." she hurried off to her room leaving Simon to himself momentarily.

The older man sighed as he walked into her living room and sat himself in the single chair, he crossed his legs and rested back waiting on Jasmine's return.

Jasmine dropped her towel in a rush, pulling her top drawer open and taking out the first pantie she grabbed. "Red thong... Really?" she rolled her eyes and yanked them on, then searched her closet and got a red tank top and the red shorts to match. She tugged on a black hoodie and slipped on her bedroom slippers and pulled her room door open. "I'm done."

She rushed out of the room, her hair still slightly damp. She ran into the living room and stopped short of crashing into the back of Simon's chair. "Umpf, shit I'm sorry. I wasn't watching—."

"It's okay. Calm down." his deep Danish accent was soft as he smiled at her.

She exhaled, shaking her head. "I'm so sorry Simon. I—I was just so busy trying to think. I've been writing and rewriting and deleting and thinking and running over each kind of way I could possibly make this story up. I just don't know what else to do." she groaned restless from her working. She walked around to the front of the couch, coming to stand before Simon. He uncrossed his long legs and opened his arms.

"You're mentally exhausted. You've strained yourself. Come here." she sighed and stepped forward, sitting down on Simon's lap as his strong arms encircled her. She sighed as she was pulled against his chest. "Just relax. You need to breathe. Your body needs to relax." he said running a hand back through her damp curls.

He rubbed his hand down her arm, calming her down. She lifted her legs up, balling herself up against him, breathing him in deeply. He smelt of pine and cinnamon, his aroma almost soothing while her eyes fluttered close and her body relaxed.

"Thank you, Simon."

"No need. I'm always here to help." she sighed as she drifted off, his fingers running through her hair.

~ ~ ~

Jasmine awoke in a fright, jumping up to feel the warmth radiating from her. She turned to see Simon sleeping soundly under her. She snickered softly. She'd fallen asleep in his arms and he'd fallen into sleep's pull as well. She slid his arms off slowly as she stood. A soft knock came from the door and she frowned. "Great timing," she mumbled.

Walking towards the door, she pulls it open to meet deep blue eyes heavy with tiredness. "Marcus?"

"Hey."

A moment where no words were shared betwixt them only eye contact. His eyes were like shimmering jewels in the dim hallway, but the silence surrounding them started to become unpleasant enough for Jasmine to clear her throat and look away. There was one question buzzing around her head, that she forgot to ask. "Do you want something?" she hugged her arms around herself, tugging her hoodie closed

"Umm, I just wanted to know if you were alright. I mean I haven't heard from you in two days."

"Oh... I hadn't realized," a blatant lie, "sorry, it's just when I'm getting into a new story I tend to isolate myself and forget the world around me, but since my brain is refusing to work I guess I might have to rejoin reality."

"Wow... you really have a way with words. No wonder you're a writer—umm—I hope I didn't disturb you?" she shook her head slowly.

"Nah, I just woke up. So, what is the model, slash artist doing?"

Hues of soft red ran up his cheeks as a smile tipped up the edges of his lips, a small smile greeting her eyes as he began to talk. "Just trying to create another work of art, but to be honest... I've found myself stuck."

"And now you're here." she noted slowly.

"Yeah, I got clouded, thought I'd free up my mind for a bit then I remembered I haven't seen you in awhile."

"Well, the landlord did warn you about interrupting the writer," he chuckled nervously making her smirk, "Huh,  I guess you're a rebellious one so you clearly ignored him."

He scratched the back of his neck. "S—sorry, I didn't mean to."

She shrugged. "It's fine. I needed a distraction, besides you're not bad to look at so kudos to me." he shook his head a smirk curling at his lips, his eyes narrowing as his smirk taunted her.

"Well, same here, especially when your legs are so poised before my eyes." she glanced down and chuckled softly.

"Trust me they're really shy, but they are excellence." he was about to make a rebuttal when a tall figure loomed over her shoulders and made him swallow his next words. Marcus's face visibly paled, making Jasmine arch a brow at his odd silence. "Who is this?" she jumped slightly as she whipped back to see Simon fully awake and glaring down at Marcus as if he were about to snatch her away. She hadn't even heard him walk up behind her, had she been that distracted?

"Simon, you're awake."

"That was not the question." his eyes had zeroed in on Marcus. Jasmine had never seen him this protective before, but she did like the look on Marcus' face.

She rolled her eyes. He was such a dad sometimes. "This is Marcus. Marcus, Simon. Simon, Marcus. Now, can I continue my conversation with him please... alone?" Simon didn't look away from Marcus while answering her.

"As you wish." he gave Marcus an obvious once over before walking back into the apartment.

"Sorry... I—I didn't know you had a boyfriend. Did I upset him?"

"He's not my boyfriend. He's my right hand, my driver and one of my bodyguards. Why, did he scare you?" she asked, smirking deviously as she folded her arms and leaned against the door frame.

He blushed hard. "No." she eyed him down, and then he scoffed in defeat. "Yeah, he looked scary... like he was about to tackle me and choke me to death." she snickered, and then burst out into a fit of laughter. She even wiped her eyes as Marcus rolled his. He waited for her to stop, then sighed and huffed out. "Are you done now?"

"No... Dude, he's harmless... unless you're an immediate threat to me, then he is legally allowed to murder you," she said with an ominous tone. Marcus's eyes dimmed as he gulped.

"Maybe, I'll talk to you when he's not here."

"Oh shut it. He'll behave once I tell him to. So is there anything else you wanted to tell me?"

"No... not really, I just need to clear my head."

"Take the elevator to the highest floor, and get off. You'll be on the roof, a place to relax and let go." he nodded, thankful for the suggestion.

"No prob. I must leave you now. I should be going back to work. Need to finish at least twenty chapters... By the week's end." he nodded, reluctant to see her go.

"Well, good luck, hope you get over your writer's block." he said.

"Thank you. Hope you get to finish your painting. So, I'll see you." she smiled.

He nodded, fist balled up within his front pockets. "Thank you." she toyed with the knob of the door, before looking up and catching his gaze. He smiled softly. "Goodbye, Jasmine."

"Goodbye Marcus." he turned to walk back to his door, then turned back rapidly to see her door slowly closing shut. He sighed, wishing she'd stay and talk with him longer, and also wishing Simon wasn't there to make their conversation tense or awkward.

But that all seemed like a far cry.