“It’s a stupid story.”
“Because there’s no conflict. It’s just two people talking.”
“Not every story is about conflict. Some stories are just about two people learning more about each other.”
“That’s not very interesting.”
“Isn’t it? What’s more interesting than watching two people trying to figure each other out?”
“You want explosions, screaming, opponents at cross purposes, last minute rescues.”
“It would help, yeah.”
“Conflict doesn’t create stories. Giving two characters machetes and forcing them to hack each other to death is dramatic, but it doesn’t mean I care.”
“Maybe, but having two characters walking hand-in-hand on the beach is just boring.”
“Usually. But when it’s all said and done, there is something nice about walking on the beach.”
She kicked the sand. A few grains swirled in the breeze. God, she was beautiful. Not a size zero or a stunning blonde, but she had a smile, crooked and sly, that he adored. Maybe she didn’t understand what made an interesting story, but he was damned grateful he was here with her, right now, in this place.
“I love you.”
It was the first time he’d said it.