tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-38574455768597812122024-03-13T04:43:56.620-07:00Taking love to the edge...Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00475134492633014156noreply@blogger.comBlogger17125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3857445576859781212.post-36802717273229814592013-11-18T11:50:00.000-08:002013-11-18T11:50:05.548-08:00My SUPER, BIG, news...<div style="text-align: center;">
So...I could write a long post detailing my journey as a writer. From my first self-published book, a little known paranormal romance called Irresistible Fear, that while it didn't sell much is still the story closest to my heart. </div>
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Or I could tell you how it blew my mind that people actually wanted to read the stories I had to tell. That when I set out to publish first, Find You in the Dark and then Bad Rep, I thought to myself:</div>
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<i>No one is going to want to read this. What if no one likes it? What if I'm just not that good of a writer? </i></div>
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<i> </i>And then, as crazy as it seemed to me, you guys started reading these books of mine. </div>
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And I was over the freaking moon!</div>
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And as you joined me on this insane journey, I started to think...<i>hey, maybe I can do this. Maybe I can make this dream a career. </i></div>
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<i> </i>I have always been proud to be an Indie writer. </div>
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My heart, my blood, my sweat, and my tears are firmly rooted in the Indie community.</div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Because...</span></div>
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I never thought traditional publishing would be in the cards for me. I've had the door slammed in my face enough times that I learned not to expect it. I'd get so close...my hopes would go sky high, only to have reality hit me in the face.</div>
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Really, really hard. </div>
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But then a super awesome editor from Gallery, an imprint of Simon and Schuster, contacted my agent about the possibility of having me write a brand new series for them. At first I was like...</div>
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I'm a total control freak by nature, so the thought of writing on someone else's timeline DID NOT appeal to me. But I started talking to the editor and we did a little brainstorming. I told her this idea I had for a story about a guy and a girl and the scary, consuming world of addiction, all in the midst of the underground club scene. This story came in part from mine and my husband's life experiences. </div>
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The super awesome editor loved it. I loved it. And then I thought...</div>
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I think I want to do this.</div>
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<b><span style="font-size: large;">So my announcement is that I've signed a two book deal with Gallery Books.</span></b> The first book is called</div>
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<span style="font-size: x-large;">Lead Me Not</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Coming in October, 2014</span></div>
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So what does this mean for my other projects? Not a damn thing folks! I will still have Reclaiming the Sand out in early 2014. The next Bad Rep novel, Vivian and Cole's story, will also be out in early 2014. I'm so lucky that Gallery are willing to work with my indie schedule so that I can still give you the stories I've promised you. But I can't wait for you to meet Maxx and Aubrey in Lead Me Not. This story is gritty and raw. It's the sort of troubled romance my readers know I love to write. </div>
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So here is what you can expect from LEAD ME NOT!!!!</div>
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<b><i>College student, Aubrey Duncan, is pulled into the dangerous underbelly of the city club scene after meeting a sexy and mysterious stranger. Lead Me Not tells the dark story of love and addiction and fighting a temptation that could lead to destruction.</i></b></div>
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So there you have it...my super amazing news. I hope you'll be as excited to read this story as I am to give it to you.</div>
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But most importantly...I want to THANK each and every reader who took a chance on an unknown indie writer and has loved and championed me every step of the way!</div>
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Without you...none of this matters!</div>
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<i><br /></i>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00475134492633014156noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3857445576859781212.post-16374779770773690382013-11-01T09:05:00.001-07:002013-11-01T09:11:38.474-07:00RELEASE DAY FOR THE 12 NA'S of CHRISTMAS!!!<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;">It's finally here, the official release date for the 12 NA's of Christmas!!!</span></div>
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We have been working on this project for so long! I was beyond excited when I was asked to join up with 11 authors who are absolutely incredible! <br />
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The 12 NA's of Christmas are 12 separate New Adult novellas with a Christmas theme. Some are written as part of an author's existing series (like mine, Warmth in Ice). Others are written as a stand alone. <br />
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Here is a complete list and each are available on Amazon, Barnes and Noble and other e-book retailers:<br />
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A. Meredith Walters (me!!!)- Warmth in Ice (A Find You in the Dark novella)</div>
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Addison Moore- Winter Kisses</div>
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Breena Wilde- Frosted Midnight</div>
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H.M. Ward- A Little Christmas Romance (this one will be available SOON)</div>
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Chelsea M. Cameron- Christmas Catch</div>
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Sawyer Bennett- If I Return</div>
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Sarra Cannon- A Season for Hope</div>
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Shelly Crane- Wide Spaces</div>
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Magan Vernon- Off the Market</div>
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Tiffany King- Cross Country Christmas</div>
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Zoe Dawson- Brave</div>
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Marquita Valentine- All for You</div>
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You can find buy links as well as the entire list on our website: <br />
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<a href="http://www.newadult12.com/" target="_blank">http://www.newadult12.com/</a></div>
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You can also visit our author's page over on Amazon: <br />
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<a href="http://www.amazon.com/The-12-NAs-of-Christmas/e/B00FP0XX5Y/" target="_blank">http://www.amazon.com/The-12-NAs-of-Christmas/e/B00FP0XX5Y/</a></div>
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Here's a more about my novella: <span style="color: #990000;">Warmth in Ice (a Find You in the Dark novella</span>:</div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The Final chapter in Clay and Maggie's epic love story that began with Find You in the Dark.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">This novella takes place before the epilogue in Light in the Shadows.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">It's Clay and Maggie's first Christmas together but will it be a season of joy or will it only bring heartache?</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Clay and Maggie have gone through the dark and come out on the other side. For the first time, they are on this journey together. Fighting for something they both need and can't live without...each other.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">But long distance relationships are hard. Particularly for two people who are still trying to build something solid on a shaky and troubled foundation. Clay is finally out of treatment and is living in an out patient halfway house. He struggles with what he wants to do and where he wants to go. Question he worries he will never have the answers to. Maggie is trying to transition into college life and learning how to create a future with someone who is over a thousand miles away.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">As the months pass and they struggle with being a part, old insecurities and fears take root and threaten a love that has come so far.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">When Maggie decides to fly to Florida as a surprise for Clay on Christmas, she is unsure whether it will be the first step toward what they both desperately want or whether it could possibly be the end of it all.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">But with the holidays approaching, Maggie and Clay are reminded that even when the days are coldest, you cans till find the warmth and that hope and love are the greatest gifts of all.</span></div>
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00475134492633014156noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3857445576859781212.post-81592696412865627292013-10-18T06:26:00.000-07:002013-10-18T06:26:46.026-07:00It's Cover Reveal Time!!! The 12 NA's of Christmas!<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;">I am so excited to reveal the covers for the 12 NA's of Christmas! These are 12 different Christmas novellas from 12 bestselling authors.
Warmth in Ice is a Christmas novella for fans of Find You in the Dark and Light in the Shadows. I hope you enjoy this final chapter in Clay and Maggie's love story!</span></div>
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It’s Maggie and Clay’s first Christmas together…<br />
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***Spoilers for those who have not read Find You in the Dark or Light in the Shadows***<br />
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Clay and Maggie have gone through the dark and come out on the other side. For the first time, they are on this journey together. Fighting for something they both need and can’t live without…each other. </div>
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But a long distance relationship is hard. Particularly for two people who are still trying to build something solid on a shaky and troubled foundation. Clay is finally out of treatment and is living in an out patient halfway house. He struggles with what he wants to do and where he wants to go. Questions he worries he will never have the answers to. Maggie is trying to transition into college life and learning how to create a future with someone who is over a thousand miles away. </div>
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As the months pass and they struggle with being a part, old insecurities and fears take root and threaten a love that has come so far. </div>
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When Maggie decides to fly to Florida as a surprise for Clay on Christmas, she is unsure whether it will be the first step toward what they both desperately want or whether it could possibly be the end of it all. </div>
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But with the holidays approaching, Maggie and Clay are reminded that even when the days are coldest, you can still find the warmth and that hope and love are the greatest gifts of all.</div>
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-UYSDNYACxAc/UmEyaxUBD2I/AAAAAAAAAME/3V5i55rrFUY/s1600/WiI+Walters+Amazon+GR+SW.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-UYSDNYACxAc/UmEyaxUBD2I/AAAAAAAAAME/3V5i55rrFUY/s400/WiI+Walters+Amazon+GR+SW.jpg" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Warmth in Ice and the other 12 NA's of Christmas novellas will be released separately on </span></div>
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<span style="color: red; font-size: large;"><b>NOVEMBER 1st!!!</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Several are tied into an existing series but others can be read as a stand alone! </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">You can find out more about each of the 12 NA's of Christmas titles here:</span></div>
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<a href="http://www.newadult12.com/" target="_blank"><span style="color: red;">http://www.newadult12.com/</span></a></div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00475134492633014156noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3857445576859781212.post-30726116275536673272013-09-07T13:50:00.000-07:002013-09-07T13:52:03.757-07:00Perfect Regret Release Date<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"> Mark your calendar! Perfect Regret will be released on SEPTEMBER 13th! </span></div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00475134492633014156noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3857445576859781212.post-55857225798388935882013-07-15T03:05:00.001-07:002013-07-15T05:48:11.482-07:00NAmazing Adventure!!!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Georgia; font-size: 16px; line-height: 18px;">Welcome to my stop on the NAmazing Adventure, a blog hop featuring over 60 New Adult authors, and prize packs that include ARCs, signed books, gift cards, swag, and more! If you're not sure what the NAmazing Adventure is, please </span><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Georgia;"><span style="line-height: 18px;"><a href="http://www.naalley.com/" target="_blank">CLICK HERE</a> </span></span><span style="border: 0px; color: red; font-family: Georgia; font-size: 16px; line-height: 18px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"> </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Georgia; font-size: 16px; line-height: 18px;">to start from the beginning and read the complete rules on the NA Alley website. Now let's get this journey on the road!</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #181818; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19px;">"Who gives a damn about their reputation? Oh, that would be me! Especially since mine had gone straight to hell in the span of thirty minutes".</span><br />
<br style="background-color: white; color: #181818; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19px;" />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #181818; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19px;">Maysie Ardin is soaking up the summer before her junior year of college, shopping, hanging by the pool and shopping some more. But when her black belt in spending lands her in trouble with her parents, she is forced to take a second job at a local bar to dig herself out of a deep financial pit.</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #181818; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19px;">She thought she’d be miserable. But then Maysie didn’t count on Jordan Levitt, the hot, pierced and tattooed, drum playing bartender who also happens to be very interested in her. And the feelings are totally mutual.</span><br />
<br style="background-color: white; color: #181818; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19px;" />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #181818; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19px;">It had the makings of the perfect romantic set up. Boy meets girl. Boy likes girl. Boy has girlfriend? Okay, maybe not.</span><br />
<br style="background-color: white; color: #181818; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19px;" />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #181818; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19px;">But attraction is a hard thing to ignore and soon Jordan and Maysie find themselves in the middle of a gossip induced firestorm. Maysie has to learn whether she can set aside her fear of public disapproval in order to be with the one she wants. Or will she let the opinions of others dictate her life and her heart?</span><br />
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<span style="border: 0px; color: #333333; font-family: Georgia; font-size: 16px; font-weight: bold; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; text-decoration: underline; vertical-align: baseline;">Got that jotted down in your quest scroll?</span></div>
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<span style="border: 0px; color: #333333; font-family: Georgia; font-size: 16px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">Great, because you’ll need it for the quiz at the end of this quest! And remember, you must complete ALL SIX quizzes to be eligible for a prize pack.</span></div>
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<span style="border: 0px; font-family: Georgia; font-size: 16px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><u style="color: blue;">HOLD ON!!!!</u> You have a chance to win a signed paperback copy of Bad Rep right here in addition to the NAmazing Adventure giveaway! All you have to do is like my page on Facebook or follow me on Twitter!!</span></div>
<a class="rafl" href="http://www.rafflecopter.com/rafl/display/b652554/" id="rc-b652554" rel="nofollow">a Rafflecopter giveaway</a>
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<span style="border: 0px; color: #333333; font-family: Georgia; font-size: 16px; font-weight: bold; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; text-decoration: underline; vertical-align: baseline;">Thanks for stopping by. Ready to move on?</span></div>
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<span style="border: 0px; color: #333333; font-family: Georgia; font-size: 16px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="border: 0px; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><a href="http://www.michellelynnbooks.com/">CLICK HERE</a> to go to the next stop on your adventure!</span><span style="color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: normal;"> </span></span><span style="font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.727272033691406px;"> Good Luck!!! -A</span></div>
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<span style="color: #333333; font-family: Georgia;"><span style="line-height: 18px;"><br /></span></span>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00475134492633014156noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3857445576859781212.post-47262595262247225092013-06-25T13:49:00.002-07:002013-06-25T13:49:58.042-07:00Last Perfect Regret teaser of the day...First I want to say THANK YOU for all the awesome birthday wishes! I can't tell you how much it means to me to have each and every one of you supporting me and my books the way that you do! So here is the final Perfect Regret teaser for my Birthday Extravaganza! This scene is shorter than the other two...but it's pretty steamy! Enjoy some Riley and Garrett lovin'!!! This is unedited so forgive the typos and grammatical mayhem!<br />
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*Intended for mature audiences- over 18***<br />
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*************<br />
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<div class="MsoNormal">
He lifted my hair and swept it over my shoulder.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>His lips were hot on my skin as he kissed my
neck.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“We can’t keep doing this.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I can’t stand you,” I said in a shaky voice
as I felt the tip of his tongue glide along the outside of my ear.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Garrett turned me so
I faced him, his eyes smoldering as he looked down at me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He grabbed the hem of my shirt and yanked it
over my head, leaving me in only my black lace bra.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He traced his finger along the top of my
breasts, making me shiver.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“I can’t stand you
either.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Your mouth just doesn’t know
when to stop.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The shit that you say makes me want to strangle you,” his voice was low and rough as he cupped my
breasts, his thumbs rubbing my already taut nipples.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Garrett leaned down
so that his lips brushed against mine.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Our breath was coming in short, erratic bursts.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“I don’t particularly <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">like </i>you Riley.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But right
now I want to <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">fuck </i>you,” he
growled.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My eyes widened, my heart sped
up and my panties grew instantly wet.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My fingers curled into
his messy hair and I pulled with enough force to make him wince.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“You’re an asshole,” I whispered, not
trusting my voice at the moment.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Garrett’s
emitted a low groan as I yanked on his hair again.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I bit his bottom lip, pulling it into my
mouth.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
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<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“And I <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">want</i> you to fuck me,” I said raggedly.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Garrett gripped the back of my head, holding
me in place as his mouth slammed down on mine.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">hated</i> him.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He made me want to pull my hair out.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But goddamn it, I wanted to taste every inch
of him.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And I knew by the frantic way he
touched me, that he felt the same way. <o:p></o:p></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00475134492633014156noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3857445576859781212.post-154319417709056022013-06-25T02:27:00.004-07:002013-06-25T03:13:41.347-07:00Happy Birthday TO ME!Throughout the day I will be posting some Perfect Regret teasers. One now, another one this afternoon and then one later tonight. I also have an awesome Perfect Regret surprise to share with you later! But for now, have a look at the awesome friendship between Maysie and Riley. You were introduced to their fun dynamic in Bad Rep. Maysie was the the angst filled, sometimes whiny sorority chick while Riley was the snarky, tell it like it is best friend. Now see how thing have flipped for the both of them. Riley is a bit of a mess and Maysie is there to help her sort it out! Enjoy!!!<br />
<br />
<br />
*******<br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Riley, don’t
make the same mistakes I did.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I almost
lost the most important thing in my life because I had unrealistic expectations
about what a relationship <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">should </i>look
like,” Maysie warned, taking the bowl of popcorn from my hands.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I didn’t even try to stop her.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was too busy processing the fact that at
some point in all of this mess our roles had reversed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Maysie had, unbeknownst to me, become the no
nonsense voice of reason and I had become the screwed up head case with a bad
case of I-can’t-make-up-my-mind.</div>
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<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
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<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I started to chew on
the skin around my thumb.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“I know I’m
being a hypocrite.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I know I’m not making
a shit bit of sense, but…”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I let my
words trail off.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>No reason to cut myself
open completely.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was feeling way too
vulnerable and way too touchy.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I hated
that my world had turned upside down because of a guy.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Somehow, someway,
Garrett Bellows had gotten underneath my skin in the worst way possible.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He was like a parasite, slowly sucking me
dry.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That’s what he was!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I gigantic, blonde haired,
too-cute-for-his-own-good tape worm, eating away at me from the inside
out.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“He scares you,”
Maysie piped up, grinning at me as she shoved a handful of popcorn into her
mouth.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She needed to keep that mouth
full because I wasn’t appreciating her on the nose analysis of my internal
conflict.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I made a noise that
sounded like I was choking.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>“Scared?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Give me a fucking break,
Mays.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Annoyed? Yes.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Frustrated?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>You betcha.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Ready to take off
someone’s head? Looking more and more like a definite,” I said giving her a
pointed look.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“But never, ever scared,”
I said with more conviction than I felt. </div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Maysie
chuckled.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Oh yes he does.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He gives you butterflies.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He makes you sweat.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He calls you on your bullshit and keeps you
on your toes.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You both love and hate how
he does that.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He has you tied up in so
many knots you can’t get out.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And Miss
I-Have-My Whole-World-Figured-Out is going crazy because of it,” Maysie seemed
entirely too proud of her deduction.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I opened my mouth to
say something but she cut me off…<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">again!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></i>“I’m not saying this to be mean, but
Riley you’ve become your own worst enemy.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I know you think Garrett has nothing to offer.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That you’re embarrassed by the fact that you
actually <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">like </i>him.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But he’s a good guy.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He’s a smart guy.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And there is no one else in this world that
would lay everything at your feet the way that he would.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Remember that when you’re sitting in your
room later, thinking of a thousand reasons you shouldn’t give things with him a
try.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Remember he’s the same guy who had
your back with Jaz.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He’s the same guy
who drove you over three hundred miles to be with your grandmother.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My throat felt uncomfortably tight and I
blinked rapidly to try to hold off the tears.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I will not cry like a little bitch!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span></div>
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<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“And remember he’s
the guy who has made you feel like you’re worth all the hassle.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That no matter what you dish out, he is there
to take it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>To volley it right back and
is there to go toe to toe any time you’re ready.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Maysie squeezed my hands.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Damien wasn’t that guy for you.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But Garrett is,” she said softly and I closed
my eyes and tried to take a deep breath around the huge, crushing weight in my
chest.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00475134492633014156noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3857445576859781212.post-4825082107325680442013-05-14T13:13:00.001-07:002013-05-14T13:13:09.108-07:00Perfect Regret snippet!Okay, here's a little glimpse of Riley and Garrett. This is UNEDITED and subject to change. But these two have been entirely TOO much fun to write! I hope you enjoy it and thank you for all the new likes!!!<br />
<br />
*This contains adult contain and is meant for readers over 18 years old!!!*<br />
<br />
****<br />
<br />
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<!--StartFragment-->
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I was being smothered!
I literally could not get air in and out of my lungs. My brain was fuzzy, my head felt like it was
being clenched in a vice and my eyes were having a hard time adjusting in the
pitch blackness.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i>Where the fuck was I?<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I tried to sit up and realized that the reason I was having
such a hard time drawing breath had to do with the heavy, sweaty male form
laying prostrate over me. And did I
mention this male form was NAKED? <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Oh God! I was
NAKED! <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I tried to roll out from underneath the unidentified man but all I
got for my efforts was to be squeezed even tighter against hot, sweaty, NAKED guy. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I flopped back down on the bed, trying not to freak out at
the feel of a very erect penis digging into my hip. Because it was quite obvious that I had
engaged in drunken, monkey sex with my current bed partner. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
And what was even more messed up was I had no idea who he
was. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I couldn’t make out anything about him in the darkness. But his hair was tickling the hell out of my
nose and I was trying really hard not to sneeze and blow snot all over him and
thus making this awkward and mortifying experience all that much better.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The guy mumbled something in his sleep and he nuzzled his
face into my neck. I was a rigid block
of stone. I needed an escape plan. Like two minutes ago.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
But one thing was for sure, whoever ambiguous sex dude was,
he smelled good. We’re talking really,
really good. Like smoke and outdoors and
something extremely masculine. But I
could give a shit if he smelled like chocolate and vomited up hundred dollar
bills, I had made a decision last night based on too much alcohol and a bad
case of rebounditis. And that made my
feelings about my current situation bordering on hysteria.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I glanced over at the alarm clock on the small bedside
table. It claimed to be 5:00 in the
morning. Entirely too early to be up
under normal circumstances. But this was
anything but <i>normal. </i>Because I was living in morning after
hell. And that was about as far from my <i>normal </i>as one could get. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Mr. Stiffy rolled his hips, grinding his ever-present
erection into my side again. And Riley
Walker Junior, who had been happily slumbering between my legs, began to stir. <i><o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><br /></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i>Go back to sleep you
wanton slut! </i>I screamed silently to
my insolent vagina. She and I were <i>not</i> in agreement as to the best way to
handle this.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Because even though my brain couldn’t remember my night of
lust, other parts of my body obviously had clear as crystal memories of it.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Once mystery guy settled back into sleep, I started the
futile process of trying to wiggle out from underneath him. My hands pressed into surprisingly smooth and
hard skin and I flattened my palms against his seemingly muscular chest in an
effort to budge the massive amounts of man pinning me to the bed. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Even in my moment of self-mortifying disgust, I was pleased
that my bed partner appeared to have a nice body. Glad to know that in my drunken psychosis
I could still be called on to pick a guy with a nice set of abs.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i>Get a grip,
Riley! As if his body really matters
when you’re trying to walk of shame out of here! </i>I scolded myself harshly.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
After a few minutes I grudgingly realized I was stuck. My ass wasn’t going anywhere. And now I had to pee. My bladder was being pressed painfully by the
guy’s weight. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i>Ah, Fuck it!<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Hey!” I yelled,
shoving the dude’s shoulder. He grunted
and tightened his ironclad grip around my waist. If he didn’t get off of me in about
ten seconds, he was going to wake up in a very wet bed. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I leaned in close and moved some hair away from his ear,
making a concerted effort to <i>not </i>notice
how soft and silky it felt between my fingers.
“Wake up!” I yelled and then smacked the back of his head
for good measure.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Yep, that did the trick.
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The guy bolted straight up in bed. “What the fuck?” he yelled and leaned over to
flip on the lamp. And it was then that I
got my first glimpse of my one night stand.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“You have GOT to be fucking with me?” I screeched, hurriedly
pulling up the sheet to cover my entirely too naked breasts. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Garrett Bellows, lead guitarist for Generation Rejects and otherwise annoying human being, ran a hand through his shoulder length
blonde hair and blinked at me in confusion.
“What the hell is your problem?” he asked, scrubbing his face with his
hands before dropping back onto the bed.
My eyes drifted down the length of his very toned and obnoxiously nice
body until they stopped and honed in on a very prominent part of his anatomy
that I only too recently felt pressed intimately against me. And Mr. Veined and Throbbing was at attention
and on very prominent display. I
swallowed thickly as images came swimming back through my hazy memory.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Garrett kissing me as though I had been the air he
breathed. Garrett slowly taking off my
clothes and then laying me out on the bed I now found myself in. I closed my eyes and could see him over me as his weight pressed me into the mattress.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I shivered uncontrollably.
Shit, shit, shit!<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I opened my eyes and sneered at him, throwing a sheet over
his lower half. “Cover yourself up, will
you?” I snarled, leaning over the side of the bed and finding my shirt from the
night before. I quickly pulled it over
my head and felt better at having a barrier between Garrett and my skin. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Garrett had lowered his arm and was watching me. He didn’t look angry by my attitude. He didn’t appear to be hurt in any way, which
was both a relief and weirdly disappointing.
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
He seemed only thoughtful.
Curious even. What the hell?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Where are my pants?” I muttered under my breath. I got out of bed, trying not to die of total
embarrassment as I flashed Garrett a pretty picture of my ass while I bent over
to retrieve the rest of my discarded clothing.
As I finished getting dressed, I muttered, I cursed and I otherwise
fumed at my total idiocy.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
And Garrett freaking Bellows didn’t say a damned thing. He just lay there, watching me, as though he
found me supremely entertaining. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Do you know where my keys are?” I asked him, hating that I
had to talk to him at all. I would
rather have left with my head hung in shame, never to reveal my night as Miss
Skankalicious to anyone…ever.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Garrett pointed across the room. “You dropped your purse when we came in here
last night. I’m guessing you’ll find
them in there,” he remarked dryly. He
stood up and I was treated to another view of his body. And <i>my </i>body
tingled in response. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Time to shut that crap down here and now. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“I just need to get out of here,” I said more to myself than
to him but he heard me loud and clear.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Why the rush?” Garrett asked, cocking his eyebrow. His blasé nonchalance prickled my already
testy nerves and reminded me of why he annoyed the shit out of me. People that laid back drove me crazy. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“No sense in wasting anymore of your time. I think we’re done here,” I spat out, glaring
at him. I knew I was being a bitch but I
was mortified by my behavior. Riley
Walker does <i>not</i> get so drunk she blacks out.
Riley Walker does <i>not</i> have sex with a guy she barely knows; particularly
when said guy was one she could barely stand.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
And apparently Riley Walker was <i>now</i> talking about herself in
the third person. Hello insanity!<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Garrett pulled on a pair of sweat pants and lifted my
purse. I grit my teeth as he crooked his
finger in my direction. “You want it,
come over here and get it.” He was
messing with me, trying to make me more uncomfortable than I already was. Well screw him! <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Wait...I already did that...Ugg!</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I snatched it from him, making sure not to touch him as I
did so. More flashes flooded my brain. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
His lips.
His hands. The way he said my
name right before he kissed me. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
What I wouldn’t give for another bought of alcohol-induced
amnesia right about now.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Garrett’s eyes heated for a moment, as though he could read
my mind. His gaze slid down the length
of me and then back up to meet my eyes where they cooled slowly. His mouth, entirely too pretty to be on a
guy, set into a firm line and for a second I felt a flash of regret.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Not for our night together, but for the way I was treating
him. He didn’t deserve to be shitted on
because I was feeling like a fuck up. I
opened my mouth to apologize, a Riley Walker first, when he beat me to the
punch.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
He opened the door to his bedroom and gave me a cold
smile. “Oh, we’re done here
alright.” Garrett ran his fingers down
the side of my neck and I couldn’t help but notice the way his face softened a
bit before he went in for the kill.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“It was fun, but I won’t be signing up for round two. You can leave now.” He grinned at me and my face flushed red in a
mixture of humiliation and gnaw through his jugular rage. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Screw the apology!<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I leaned up on my tiptoes, my hands gripping his
shoulders. My lips hovered near his and
I smirked inwardly at the sound of the hitch in his breathing. “Well it’s a good thing you were entirely
forgettable then,” I whispered, licking my lips slowly and chuckling as
Garrett’s eyes dropped to my mouth.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Now get the fuck out of my way,” I bit out, moving away
from him. Garrett blinked, his eyes becoming
once again glacial cool and he gestured me out into the hallway and the
proceeded to slam the door to his room behind me. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Well that went well.
I thought as I made my way as stealthily as possible out of the
house. Maysie was nowhere in sight and
hell if I was going to look for her. I
needed to go home, stat!<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I started up my car, and chanced one last glance toward the
house. Curtains moved in one of the
second story windows and I could have sworn I saw Garrett watching me. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Crap, there it was again. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Regret. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
And as I drove away from Garrett’s
house, I wanted desperately to leave that unfortunate feeling behind but it
took up quiet residence in my heart and I feared it wouldn’t let go anytime
soon.<o:p></o:p></div>
<!--EndFragment-->Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00475134492633014156noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3857445576859781212.post-32831708987210929122013-02-20T05:31:00.000-08:002013-02-20T05:31:28.483-08:00Happy 3,000 likes teaser!!Thanks so much for all the new likes on my Facebook page. Your support and love are so amazing! This is another Light in the Shadows teaser. Up until now, I've only given you Clay's POV. But Light in the Shadows will be from alternating POVs. I thought that was really important, because while Clay is on his own journey, Maggie is doing her thing as well. So here's a little taste of something sort of happy that will be coming down the pipeline for them. <br />
<br />
I hope you enjoy it!!<br />
<br />
<br />
************<br />
"Um...wow. Thanks." I said in absolute and utter amazement. Clay stood at my doorstep wearing dark jeans, a pressed blue collared shirt, black wool coat and holding the largest bouquet of roses I had ever seen. It was obvious he had checked all of the required boxes on this "date". Down to his perfectly slicked back hair and over eager expression.<br />
<br />
In the previous incarnation of our relationship we sort of skipped the whole "dating" thing. <br />
<br />
Somewhere between saying hello and diving headfirst into the turmoil we had forgotten the basics. Our love hadn't been typically teenage in any way. We had gone zero to a million without so much as a trip to the movies or an uncomfortable dinner at Applebee's while we chatted about favorite bands and most embarrassing moments.<br />
<br />
Looking at Clay, all dolled up and standing almost timidly in front of me, I realized how much we had missed. How in the heat of our intense and crazy love we had forgotten the most important step in any relationship...the first date. <br />
<br />
I felt a sudden sadness at those tiny moments that we hadn't experienced together. I took a deep breath and reached out for the roses. Clay's smile was shy and uncertain, showing me that he was as clueless as I was when it came to rewriting our history. <br />
<br />
Was it possible to go back to the beginning? To try and do things the right way?<br />
<br />
I gripped the bundle of overpriced flowers in my hands and gasped in surprise. I lifted my finger and saw a bright red blob on the tip. Shit, I should have realized there were thorns. The bite of pain reminded me that we had a long way to go. That no matter how beautiful the package, the hurt was still there.<br />
<br />
And I wasn't sure how long it would take for it to go away. Or if it ever would.<br />
<br />
"Are you alright?" Clay asked, moving toward me. I stuck my finger in my mouth. The tang of copper sharp on my tongue. I nodded my head and moved away before Clay could touch me. I wasn't ready for that just yet.<br />
<br />
I dropped the flowers on the table inside the door and grabbed my purse. I joined him on the porch and zipped up my coat. <br />
<br />
"You ready?" Clay asked, trying again for the whole smiling thing. <br />
<br />
Was I ready?<br />
<br />
Hell if I knew.<br />
<br />
But looking at his hopeful expression I knew that I could only try.<br />
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00475134492633014156noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3857445576859781212.post-31609054670493416482013-02-14T13:12:00.002-08:002013-02-14T13:12:44.760-08:00Happy Valentine's DayI wanted to give you guys another Light in the Shadows sneak peak. I really struggled with which one to use...because I really don't want to give much a way. But given that today is all about romance I wanted to share something...well...romantic.<br />
<br />
This is a bit of a scene from when Maggie and Clay finally see each other again. I can't say what brings them back together (though you may be able to guess). I just love writing their love story. It's so real and so raw and it really takes a lot out of me, but it's consuming.<br />
<br />
Enjoy!!<br />
<br />
**********<br />
<br />
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
This sadness was painfully familiar.
The silent, open mouthed suffering was something I had felt entirely
too much of in my life. The barely controllable urge to purge my
grief with the slice of a razor was overwhelming. I could almost
hear the darkness whisper in my ear, a taunting tease of potential
relief. I knew this was the risk of coming back here. I knew that
it resurrected a thousand instincts to hurt, to maim and to destroy
everything inside of me. Everything that I had worked so hard to
rebuild.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Leaving the Center was like leaving a
warm and safe cocoon and being thrown headfirst into complete and
utter chaos. From the moment my plane touched down in Virginia I
struggled to remember that I was in control of these traitorous
feelings. That it was my choice to cope in a healthier way.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
But returning to Davidson, particularly
under these circumstances, was proving a true test of my new found
resolve. The meds helped. The stuff I had learned in therapy
rattled around in my head, reminding me to breathe. To re frame. To
talk myself off of the cliff I was already in danger of toppling over.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
But Ruby needed me. Which made my
anxiety even harder to rein in. Because I had always been the needy
one. The truth of it was that I had needed Ruby. Maggie. Lisa.
Even as I had denied needing anyone.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
And now I was the one being leaned on
and I wasn't so sure I could handle the pressure. I was brittle and
raw and I knew that Dr. Todd's concerns about me coming back here
were legitimate ones....</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
~~~~~~~~~~~</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
I made it through the day. Barely.
Even the weather was in mourning; a soft rain falling as I made my
way into the church. Everything felt dark. I focused on my
breathing even as my guts knotted up inside of me.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
It was important I found my strength.
That I pull my shit together and be the man who could support someone
else and not just leach it. Damn it, I could do this!
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
I was engaged in this crazy internal
dialogue. Jumping back and forth between giving myself a perky
little pep talk and mentally screaming at myself to man up. I was
totally lost in it, trying to get up the nerve to go to the front of
the church and sit with Ruby in the pew where she sat sobbing.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Her grief was almost too much to bare
but I needed to get over that. It wasn't fair to leave her alone.
Not now. Not when she never abandoned me when I needed her. But
there was that part of me that fought for self preservation and I
knew this whole scene had the makings of my own personal disaster.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
I was very close to running out the
side door and never looking back. Drive to the airport, jump on the
first available plane and get myself the hell out of Virginia.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
I had almost talked myself into it when
I felt a stirring in the air. I swear my body started to hum and I
just knew<i> she </i>was there.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Maggie.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
And just like that the fuzzy black
faded away and everything clicked into place. My heart thudded into
over drive and my palms started to sweat so I shoved them into the
pockets of my gray slacks.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Of course she came. I knew she'd be
there. And though I tried not to allow myself the hope of seeing
her, I couldn't deny that I had longed for it all the same.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
And here she was, looking the same only
<i>better</i>. Her dark hair was pulled back in a low ponytail. She
wore a dark green wool coat over a black dress. She looked beautiful
and perfect and the embodiment of everything I had always craved.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
She walked into the church, stopping to
talk to an older woman I recognized as one of the local shop owners
here in Davidson. I knew I should go and find Ruby. But I couldn't make myself move. I stood there, rooted to the
spot, not sure if I wanted Maggie to see me or not, even as I screamed
at her in my head to look at me. <i>Please.</i></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
As much as I missed her and dreamed of
this moment, I was scared of it. I had pushed her away. I had put
the necessary distance between us. I had done it for her. Because I hadn't wanted her to get sucked into my crazy life anymore than she
already had been.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
But God I <i>loved</i> her. She was the piece
I had been missing for the last three and a half months. She was
everything I wanted in my life but wasn't sure I deserved. And this
was why I wasn't good for her. My feelings about Maggie May Young
were too intense, too consuming and they always threatened to swallow
me whole.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
But then her eyes lifted and met mine
and everything else disappeared. Her eyes were bright and I could
see the way her chest started to rise and fall more rapidly. Before
I realized what I was doing, I was moving toward her at the same
instant that she began to make her own journey down the aisle of the
church.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
It was like this every time we were
together. Our bodies orbited around each other as if pulled by an
invisible force that we had no control over.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Fuck me, I wanted this. And I wanted
to run from it. I wanted to pull her in and never let go. And I
wanted to push her away.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Two minutes. That's all it took for my
head to short circuit.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Maggie stopped five feet away and we
stood there, staring at each other. I didn't know what to say. What
worked as appropriate chit chat when you saw the love of your life
again after breaking her heart? And at a funeral no less.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
I could see she was struggling as much
as I was. And I hated that. Her face was flushed and I could see
her pulse throbbing in her neck. I wanted to taste the skin there
and feel her heart beat beneath my lips.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
So instead I went for the
anti-climatic.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
“Hi.” I said softly.</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00475134492633014156noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3857445576859781212.post-12520694454266579952013-02-12T04:47:00.000-08:002013-02-12T04:47:08.248-08:00Bad Rep sequel sneak peakOkay, I've hinted around about the follow up to Bad Rep for awhile. I hemmed and hawed over whether I wanted to follow Jordan and Maysie's story, or whether I should spend some time with other characters I had grown to love.<br />
<br />
As you do when you're brainstorming, I wrote all of these snippits...trying to figure out which one I really wanted to write. And Riley Walker, Maysie's snarky but loyal best friend, kept coming back to me. The truth is I incorporated so much of my own personality into Riley as I put together Bad Rep that she quickly became on of my favorite characters. And I've been dying to see where her story goes. <br />
<br />
One of the first little bits I wrote went like this: "I had been dumped. And we're talking, take-his-testicles-off-with-a-teaspoon dumped." I just loved that and so the idea for the "sequel" went from there.<br />
<br />
There you have it...the next "Bad Rep" book will be about Riley and Garrett, the lead guitarist of Generation Rejects. Where that ends up, only time will tell. I know people will be disappointed this isn't a book entirely focused on Jordan and Maysie. They'll be around of course. And you'll get to see how they're holding up. But I really wanted to write in Riley's voice. Because I love her attitude and I love her snark and I KNOW she will be so much fun to figure out. So here is a tiny piece of Riley's story, the Bad Rep spin off...Again, no title has been decided on but I usually come up with those as I go. Will keep you posted of course!<br />
<br />
ENJOY!!<br />
<br />
**********<br />
<br />
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<i>Dear God on everything that is
holy, please don’t let me strangle this guy!</i> I gnashed my
teeth together, feeling the overwhelming urge to smack the shit out
of Maysie for dragging me to the seventh level of hell with her. Or
otherwise known as a Generation Rejects after party.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Sure this may be her thing. She
played the part of rock star girlfriend really well. And more power
to her. But she had gotten a wild hair up her ass thinking I needed
to party, enjoy my youth, blah blah blah. So here I was, surrounding
myself with drunken jack asses as they tried to rub against each
other (or me if I wasn’t paying attention) in some sort of scary
mating ritual. Sorry, I missed <i>that</i> episode of Wild Planet.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
“Don’t you think?” Huh? I
blinked in exaggerated slowness, making it clear that I hadn’t
heard a damn thing he had said. Garrett wasn’t put off by my
blatant disinterest. I think the dude could talk to a brick wall.
Garrett Bellows, lead guitarist of Generation Rejects, Jordan’s
roommate, and the guy I had been engaged in a one sided conversation
with for the past fifteen minutes. One sided meaning that he was
talking and I could care less. I had tuned out around the time he
started waxing poetic about surfing at night during some trip to
Hawaii last year.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
I really hated these pseudo
philosophical types. You know the ones that smoked a bowl or two and
suddenly they were Plato reincarnated; talking about the meaning of
life and how it had to be a government conspiracy that McDonald’s
only rolled out the McRib a few times a year.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
“I’m sorry. You’ll have to run
that by me again. I was too busy trying to remember why the hell I
let Maysie talk me into coming here in the first place.” I said,
infusing more than a little bit of asshole into my tone. Okay, so
maybe the guy didn’t deserve to have a firsthand encounter with
Riley Walker, Mega Witch, but I was in a bad mood and feeling
annoyingly heartbroken; which made me rude and more than a little
punchy.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
I didn’t handle humiliation and
disappointment very well on a good day. And Damien, ex-douche and
overall shitty human being had dosed out both in plentiful supply
over the last two weeks. And today was <i>anything</i> but a good
day.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
I fully expected Garrett to call me a
bitch and leave me alone to stew in my bitter juices. I was really
hoping he would anyway. But the idiot did no such thing.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Instead he laughed. He freaking
laughed! Was he missing a few of those brain cells that were
required to recognize when someone was being a complete and total
fuck face to you? Oh God, maybe he thought my attitude was
endearing! Shit, I hadn’t thought that he might be one of those
crazies who got off on bitchy girls. Retreat Riley! Retreat!</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
“You have one huge ass chip on your
shoulder. Does it work for you?” Garrett asked lazily and my eyes
snapped up to his. He spoke in a slow drawl that was either meant to
be dead sexy or a perfect cure for insomnia.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
“Does <i>what </i>work for me?” I
asked him warily, not sure where he was going with this. He pushed a
hand through his hair and narrowed a pair of thoughtful blue eyes in
my direction. I couldn’t really make up my mind if I thought
Garrett was good looking or not. His dirty blonde hair was on the
longish side, hanging down to his shoulders. I wasn’t typically
into guys with long hair, but this dude sort of worked it. He wasn’t
overly tall, probably coming in around 5 foot 11 with a wiry frame
that he seemed to like to show off, given the amount of time he spent
without a shirt on. Though if I had defined abs like that, I’d
probably be topless all the time, tits and all.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
His cornflower blue eyes could have
been appealing if they weren’t blood shot and glazed over. He
exuded that laid back could-give-a-shit demeanor that only came after
inhaling a copious amount of THC into your system. And given the
number of chicks who had attempted to get his attention since he had
plopped down beside me to begin the most asinine conversation in
history; he must have some sort of magnetism. Too bad I was wearing
my armor of snark and not remotely susceptible to any of his possible
charms.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
I could admit that I had already
dismissed him as a low functioning stoner who was smoking away the
last of his brain cells. But then his question and his following
statement caught me off guard.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Garrett leaned forward and rested his
elbows on his knees. He waved a hand in my direction. “This. The
whole I’m-a-bitch-so-stay-the-fuck-away act. I get that this
probably isn’t your scene. I bet you’d rather be at some eco
warrior save the pandas meeting or something. You seem like the idealistic
save the world type.” I bristled at his annoyingly astute
observation.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
“Wow, so you picked that all up from
the complete lack of conversation we were having? Can I add deluded
quasi psychic to your resume? Right under wannabe rock star?” I
said rather nastily, not wanting to give anybody the upper hand.
Particularly this grunged out dope head whose eyes seemed to have
cleared a bit. And I couldn’t help but notice that, yeah, they
were pretty appealing. How obnoxious.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
“Well, you’re wearing Reco jeans,
which points to the fact that you think you’re environmentally
conscious but in reality it smacks of pretention if you ask me.” I
opened my mouth to tell him he could take his bullshit preconceptions
and shove them straight up his ass. But I didn’t get a chance
because he just kept going, whether I wanted him to or not.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
“And then there’s that shirt. I’m
sure you spent a long time stitching all those little patches
together. Does that make you feel better than everyone else? The
fact that you sew your own clothes and wear pants made from plant
shit? Because I bet you just feel really lonely. And sad. So you
throw out this attitude and judgmental BS hoping no one calls you on
it. And if they do, that only proves they aren’t worth your notice
or your time.” Garrett delivered his stinging critique with a
frustrating blasé smile. Like he was commenting on the weather! When in truth he was flaying me alive. I wanted to punch
him in his stupidly attractive face. Because yes damn it, I suddenly
realized he was pretty darn cute. And I hated him!</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
“Whatever.” I hissed out getting
to my feet. Garrett laughed and I realized I had reacted just as he
expected me to. Well, who cares, I didn’t need this crap.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
“Have fun dulling your senses and
killing your brain cells.” I bit out as he pulled a joint from his
pocket and lit up.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
He pulled in a lung full of smoke and
slowly exhaled. “And you enjoy standing up on your soap box while
you doll out your all-important criticisms. I’m sure it’ll make
for a fun evening.” He said drolly as he turned to a pretty girl
who sat down beside me. She giggled and leaned into him as he slung
an arm around her shoulders. He literally turned his back to me as
though I had been dismissed.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
What a dick!
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
I stood there fuming. No one out
bantered Riley Walker. Especially not a guitar playing, pot smoking,
needs a hair cut in the worst way, jack ass.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
So I stormed off. It was only much
later that I realized Garrett Bellows had done something more than
piss me off and incite my urge to maim and kill. He had made me
forget about Damien. And for the first time in weeks I hadn’t been
depressed and miserable.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Huh. Interesting.</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00475134492633014156noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3857445576859781212.post-36789111788197471502013-01-30T12:53:00.002-08:002013-01-30T12:53:41.403-08:00A Little Look at JordanIn honor of hitting 2,000 likes on my facebook page here is a little bit of Bad Rep from Jordan's POV. I really love writing from a guy's mindset. I hope this clears up a little of what Jordan was thinking during all of that drama. Enjoy!!!<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
********</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
~Jordan~</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
“Hey Jordan.” I grit my teeth at
the breathy voice on the other end of the phone. That's what I get
for not paying attention to the caller ID <i>before </i>I
answered it. I had been dodging Liv's calls for a few weeks now. I
felt like we had said all we needed to say. I knew she just wanted
the drama and I was not into that at all.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
After that night of
the mixer, I bit the bullet and ended whatever relationship she and I
still had right then and there. Yeah, maybe it was a bit dick of me,
but I couldn't have her thinking that there was any hope we'd be
together again. Particularly after being in that bathroom with
Maysie.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Olivia
had blamed Maysie for all of it. Which was bullshit. She knew it, I
knew it. We hadn't been <i>together </i>since
May. We had made the decision to spend time apart, see where that
led us. I should have cut the proverbial cord then, no questions
asked, no misunderstanding. But when you're with someone for such a
significant part of your life, it was fucking hard as hell to put the
fork in it. No matter how dysfunctional the whole thing had become.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
But then I had met
Maysie. And touched Maysie. And tasted Maysie. And there was no
going back to Olivia. I told her when she got back for the summer
that we were over. But she had begged me. Pleaded that I couldn't
leave her. She threw a bunch of shit in my face about our history
and the fact that she was going through a tough time after her
grandfather died in the spring. That she needed me. I shouldn't
have caved. I knew that I wanted to be with someone else. I told
Liv that I had met someone.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
So, long story
short, she hung onto the dead horse of our non-existent relationship
while I tried not to run like a little bitch to Maysie and beg her to
have me. She was being cool and distant and part of me knew that I
should respect that. But that louder, more insistent part of me was
like FUCK THAT! So I made my move.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
In the worst
possible scenario. But I made it. I couldn't handle it anymore.
And I knew for those few minutes that she was into me. I mean,
really into me. And I felt like I had won the fucking lottery. But
then that goddamn friend of Olivia's busted in and then Maysie was
running away.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
I felt like I saw
Maysie's back more often than her front. I couldn't get her to stay
long enough to work through anything. And that was frustrating. But
it made me want to chase her down until she had no where to go. And
didn't want to.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
I felt like shit
that Olivia thought I was going behind her back with Maysie. I hated
that she found out the way that she did that Maysie was that someone
I had met over the summer. I knew Liv and Maysie were sisters and I
didn't want to be the source of what would most likely become a very
awkward situation.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
After her round of
bitch wrestling, I laid it all out for Olivia. I was done playing
nice. I let her know in no uncertain terms that my heart was with
Maysie. I wanted to be with Maysie. The “discussion” with
Olivia turned into her yelling and me trying to calm her down. Then
she started crying and it sort of deteriorated from there. When she
picked up my Gretsch guitar, the one my uncle bought me when I was
fourteen, and smashed it against the wall, I had had enough
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
I had gotten my
keys and left, thinking that was the end of it.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
I should have known
better.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Even
though I had stayed away from the Pi Sig house for the last two
weeks, I couldn't avoid an ex-girlfriend who was insistent on being
seen. She waited for me after class, called my phone constantly. I
started avoiding the commons and library. Thank fucking Christ for
Garrett and his open door policy because I was close to losing my
damn mind.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
And maybe I wasn't
being fair in not letting Olivia say her piece. But I was of the
understanding that we were all talked out. What else was there to
say?
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Because when I
wasn't at school, or hiding out at Garrett's I was doing some
stalking of my own. I waited for Maysie outside her apartment
several times a week. I couldn't get a read on her schedule, so I
just started showing up at random times.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Her friend Riley,
who I had mad respect for, was okay with it at first. But as time
wore on, she finally told me to leave her roommate alone. That had
sucked. Because I didn't want to leave Maysie alone. Maybe I should
just call her.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
But it was too easy
to ignore a phone call. I wanted to see Maysie face to face. I
needed her to see me when I laid it all out at her feet. I was
feeling desperate and that was something I wasn't used to.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
By the end of week
two, I was at Garrett's house. I was expecting the guys back anytime
to start practice. We had a gig tomorrow night and wanted to nail
down our set. Hanging out with my band mates was just the break that
I needed. None of the guys went to Rinard. They were all locals who
happened to have a mutual love of hard, kick ass rock.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
When I hung out
with them, I wasn't Jordan Levitt, Frat president, Mr. Popular,
ex-boyfriend to Olivia Peer. I was just another guy, banging on the
drums to the noise around him. And it felt freaking great. I liked
the guy I was when I was here at Garrett's. Because I was really
starting to hate that other Jordan. He was kind of a prick.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
I was feeling
better about things. I needed to distance myself from the Rinard
bullshit machine. I needed to figure out a way to get Maysie to
listen to reason (well my reasoning of course) that we belonged
together. And I was ready to pave my own way in this mess that I
called a life.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
But then I answered
the fucking phone.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
“Hey.” I said
shortly after hearing my ex's greeting.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
“I just wanted to
see how you were doing. I miss talking to you.” Olivia said
softly. I didn't respond. What was I supposed to say? The truth
was I didn't miss a thing about the awkward tension that had been our
relationship for the last year.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
“Yeah.” I said
back. I heard Liv take a deep breath. “Look, Olivia. I'm not
sure what the point of this phone call is, but I think we've said
everything we need to say.” I said, trying to be gentle and not
the raging jerk that I really wanted to be. I felt like every time I
spoke with her it was the same conversation over and over again. I
tried to patient. I tried to be understanding. But I was at the end
of my very long rope.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
“I don't think so
Jordan. We still have a lot to say to each other.” Olivia's voice
started to sound angry. I was saved from having to continue with
this particular discussion by the arrival of my band mates. They
loudly entered the house and I was thankful for the distraction.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
“Piper! We've
got to practice!” Cole yelled out in way of a greeting.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
“Jordan! Listen
to me!” Olivia screeched and I knew whatever she had to tell me
was just going to piss me off. We had never been able to talk about
anything like freaking adults. It always ended up with her screaming
and me wanting to bang my head into a wall.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
“Olivia...I
have to go. Like I said, I'm not sure what else there is to say. We
broke up. I'd like to be your friend. But I don't know what else to
say.” I clenched my drum sticks in my hand, thinking about
smacking myself in the face with them for picking up the damn phone
to begin with.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
“Friends?
Friends!? Give me a fucking break Jordan! If you think I'm going to
move aside while you start screwing that bitch, you are sadly
mistaken.” She yelled. She was working herself up to blow and I
really didn't need this shit. And she was not going to talk about
Maysie like that.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
“Watch it Liv.
You can say what you want about me, but don't bring Maysie into this.
You and me, we had our problems and they had nothing to do with her.
We were broken a long time ago. If I hear you saying shit about
her, you'll have to answer to me. Are we clear?” I growled.
Yeah, I was well and truly angry.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
“Jordan, I'm
sorry, I'm just so upset.” Olivia wheedled, her tone instantly
changing. I sighed tiredly. I knew manipulation when I heard it.
And I had hit my mind fuck quota for a life time.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
“Look, I”m
sorry you're upset. But we're done here. But I'm serious, leave
Maysie out of it. You have beef with me, not her.” I warned.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
“Dude, seriously,
hurry up!” Mitch poked his head into the bedroom where I was
staying. I nodded my head at him.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
“I've gotta go.
I think we're done here anyway.” I said.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
“Don't you dare
hang up Jordan Levitt!” Olivia's voice rose again. Shit, there
was no easy way out of this mess. So yep, that's exactly what I did.
I hung up the phone just as Liv started threatening me again. Dick
or not, I was over it.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
**</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
The Boogie Lounge
was packed. I smashed my sticks down on my kit, loving this part of
the set when I could really unleash. We had just launched into the
song, Loose Ends and I was going balls to the wall. I had
incorporated this kick ass drum solo toward the end. It was intense.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Sweat poured down
my face and I wiped it away from eyes with the back of my hand as
Garrett took over with this guitar. I couldn't really see the crowd.
The lights were blinding. Right now the people at the foot of the
stage looked like a big shadowed blur.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Cole was
practically mouth fucking the microphone. He was such a fame whore.
He loved the attention. Me on the other hand, I could take or leave
that part of it. I just liked playing music. I mean, it was great
that people liked us and dug our songs. But I would be just as happy
playing in Garrett's basement. It was about jamming with people who
were as into the music as I was. It was about creating something
that I loved.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
The rest I could
give a shit about. But the other guys wanted the lime light. Cole
particularly, craved it. So I went along for the ride. I enjoyed
being a part of Generation Rejects, even if the attention was a bit
unwanted at times.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
That
had been a source of serious conflict between Liv and me. She hated
the band. Hated my music. She wanted me to have nothing do with the
three guys rocking out on the stage with me. And that was a huge
part of what killed our relationship. Over time, her constant
nagging about giving up the band became too much. So Maysie or no, I
would never have stayed with someone who didn't support something
that mattered so much to me.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
We
ended the set with Lost in You, one of our few ballads. I hated
ballads. I particularly hated <i>that </i>ballad.
I had written it two years ago when I thought Olivia hung the
fucking moon. It was pussy song written by a deluded idiot. But the
damn thing had become insanely popular. So now, here I was, forced
to play a song that only reminded me of what a dumb ass I had been.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
“Awesome job
tonight, Piper.” Mitch gave me a mock bow and I twirled the drum
stick in my hand. I was burning up under the glare of the
spotlights. I stood up and used the front of my shirt to wipe my
face.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
“Thanks man, it
was pretty killer tonight.” I said, moving off to the side of the
stage.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
“You know, we
really should take Kyle up on his offer to help us get some gigs.
You're done in May. Summer is touring season. It would be awesome.”
Mitch said, bringing up the old discussion. Mitch, Cole and Garrett
had been tossing around the idea that we should go on the road for a
few months.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Mitch's cousin
Kyle, was a club promoter in Washington D. C. He had heard us play
last school year and liked what he heard. He told Mitch that he
would easily be able to get us some gigs at some clubs where he had
connections. The idea had its appeal. I loved music. There was
nothing I wanted more than to make a living at it. I just wasn't
sold on it. There were too many other variables to consider. Like
my dad, who wanted me to join his accounting firm after graduation.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
I rolled my tongue
ring across my teeth. I did it so much I was probably chipping away
at the enamel, but it was my nervous tick. Something I did when I
felt the overwhelming urge to put my fist through something.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Which is what this
discussion made me want to do. Mostly because I was sick and fucking
tired of my dad's asshole disapproval running my life.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
“Yeah, I think
you're right.” I finally said, surprising the hell out of Mitch. I
had been the lone voice of dissention and my sudden agreement
definitely came out of left field. But it was my life. And it was
about time I started living it on my fucking terms.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Mitch was a big
guy. I was by no means a small dude. But Mitch towered over me. So
when he dropped his bass and gripped me in a hug, it felt like he was
crushing my ribs.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
“Man, seriously,
enough with the hugging shit.” I pushed him off but grinned.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
“Did you guys
grow fucking vaginas while we were on stage?” Cole asked, throwing
back his beer. His serious lack of filter made me want to slug him
in the face most of the time. But you had to laugh him off, it was
easier than inflicting bodily harm.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
“Shut your
fucking face, Kroegar.” Mitch laughed and Cole's face darkened.
Cole hated Nickleback with a passion that was bordering on crazy and
Mitch enjoyed nothing more than goading our front man.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
“I'm
gonna punch you in the fucking balls.” Cole growled, slamming his
beer down on the table. Garrett and I dropped the equipment we were
holding and stepped in between them. A fight between our band mates
wasn't unheard of. Garrett and I usually let them duke it out but we
figured a fistfight in the club, even if it ended with every one cool
again, wouldn't get us a return invite to play.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
“Just chill out
you two and load up your shit.” Garrett said, smacking Mitch on
the back of the head and shoving a handful of amp cables at Cole.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
“I'm not fucking
Chad Kroegar.” Cole mumbled, wrapping up the cable.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
I didn't know
whether to laugh or smack him.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
When we were
finished loading up our gear into Garrett's van, we headed toward the
bar to get a drink. And that's when it happened.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Okay,
well the <i>it </i>was
actually <i>her.</i></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Maysie Ardin.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
She looked fucking
beautiful as always. She was dancing with Riley and her other friend
Gracie and I couldn't take my eyes off of her. The way she moved her
body only served to remind me of what it felt like to touch that
body. To run my fingers along her sleek, wet warmth. Fuck, I was
getting a god damned hard on. I needed to take it down a notch.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
But it was hard
when we were in the same room. Hell, just breathing the same air as
Maysie made the urge to grab her and hold on forever impossible to
ignore. So I stood there, against the wall, staring at the girl who
had turned my world upside down. And I ached. A deep in the bones
ache for something with this girl. Something amazing and life
changing.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
When she was done
dancing, she walked off the floor and toward the bar with Gracie. I
could see the sweat glistening on her skin and my tongue literally
throbbed with the desire to connect to her flesh. I watched as she
made her way to a dark corner at the end of the bar. She hung back,
almost as though she were trying to make herself invisible. I saw
her glance around the room and I knew she was looking for me.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
At first that made
me damn near giddy until I really took in her face. She was
extremely uncomfortable. The way her eyes darted around made me
think of a hunted animal.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Which was crazy
because she had no reason to look like that when it was me that was
nervous and unsure. It was completely out of character for me to trip
over my tongue around a chick. I had never been that way with Liv.
Even when I was knee deep in the unrealistic ideal of her, I never
had this tangled up in the guts feeling I would get around Maysie.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
I always thought
love at first sight was a crock of shit invented by guys wanting an
easy way into a girl's panties. All the Shakespearean bullshit about
never knowing love until you saw her was just that...bullshit. That
wasn't real life. It just didn't happen like that.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
I had never been
more wrong.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
From the moment
Maysie Ardin walked into Barton's I was obsessed. I could admit
that. She was gorgeous. She was funny. I loved watching the way
she bantered with Riley. Or the way she and Jaz would dance to the
music in the bar during their breaks. Hell, I even loved the way she
smoked her cigarettes; holding in the smoke and then slowly exhaling.
It was sexy. It was hot. She was very, very dangerous. Because I
watched her way more than was healthy, even I knew that. I tried to
rationalize these intense, over the top emotions I was having for a
girl I didn't even know that well.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
It didn't make
sense. There was no build up. With Liv there had been major build
up. But this was instantaneous. And if I had learned one thing over
the last few months, it was that attraction made zero sense. I
wanted Maysie badly. Fuck me, it was damn near desperate.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
I had never in my
life been so consumed with someone the way I was with Maysie Ardin.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
And she was
avoiding me.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
I could tell by the
way she was hiding off to the side of the bar, that she didn't want
me to see her. She was hoping to go unnoticed. What she didn't
realize is I always noticed her. If she was in a room, then my eyes
would find her. There was no hiding from that.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
I moved through the
crowd. Not once taking my eyes from the girl who stood nervously,
chewing her bottom lip.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
I came up behind
her. My eyes lazily moved up and down her body, taking her in. She
hadn't realized I was there so I took the time to peruse her at my
leisure. Her smell hit me like a ton of bricks and my dick twinged
in my pants again.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Finally I sucked in
a breath. “Hey, Mays.” I watched as her shoulders tensed and I
suppressed the urge to slam her against the bar and take what I
wanted so much to be mine. The instinct to mark and plunder was
overwhelming. Man, I had to get this shit under control.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
“Hey.” She
responded, not turning around. I needed to see her face. So I moved
around until I was looking directly at her. Her head was bowed, her
long hair looking wild and fuck me beautiful. I remember grabbing a
handful of that hair and pulling as I devoured her mouth at the
mixer. My dick was no longer just twinging, it was rearing to go.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
“You looked good
out there.” I remarked, waiting to see her eyes. And when she
finally looked at me, my heart freaking stopped. It was those damned
eyes. They got me every. single. time. They were a seduce me brown
that I remembered going hooded with desire. My tongue felt thick as
she looked at me. How can a girl bring me so low so quickly?</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
We started to
exchange pleasantries, as forced as they were. Hell, even I was
feeling the awkwardness at this point. Then I asked her how she had
been and something changed. My girl went from uncomfortably blase to
raging pissed.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
“Just fucking
peachy.” She bit out. What did I say? I frowned, not
understanding the reaction to such a simple question. And then, well
I got sort of pissed myself. Because I had been seriously pining
after this girl for months. Consumed, obsessed, needy. And then she
bit my head off. Girls and their damn crazy thoughts. And us guys
were supposed to understand?
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
“What the hell
Maysie? It was just a damn question?” I asked in bewildered
irritation. I just didn't get it. And from the look on her face, I
wasn't going to get any answers. She had completely shut down. Her
friend was suddenly beside her and I greeted Gracie with a barely
civil hello.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
I stared at Maysie,
wiling her to say something...anything. But she wouldn't look at me.
Finally I gave up, this was going no where. “I've got to get back
to the guys. See you later.” I said. But she still wouldn't look
at me.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
So I left her. And
that was the hardest thing I had ever done. Especially when my every
instinct was to hold on to her tight and never let go.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
And then it hit me
with sudden clarity. I needed to grab a hold of what I wanted. I
needed to let Maysie know exactly how I felt. Let the chips fall
where they may. Because I wanted that girl in my life. I needed
her. Wanted her to know that she owned every piece of me.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
So I ditched the
guys. I was headed to Maysie's and I was going to make her hear me
out. </div>
</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00475134492633014156noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3857445576859781212.post-71777943551036241752013-01-07T14:03:00.001-08:002013-01-07T14:03:10.595-08:00Sneak Peak at Light in the Shadows!Thanks for all the new likes on my Facebook page! As a thank you here is a chapter from Light in the Shadows. Good ol' Clay sure has a lot going on...remember this hasn't been edited and it's subject to change.<br />
<br />
Enjoy!!<br />
<br />
<br />
*************<br />
<br />
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
It was my birthday. I wanted to be
giddy. Excited. But I just felt sort of numb. It had been a long
time since birthdays really meant anything to me. But today, I did
feel happy. Because today I turned eighteen.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Yep, Eighteen.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
I was finally my own man. Free to make
my own choices. My own mistakes.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Free to live my own life.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
That was something I never allowed
myself to even dream of. Because dreams have a way of crashing down
around you and leave you broken. So I had always tried to stay away
from dreams.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
But there was a time not so many months
ago, I had started to dream again. And that led to something one
hundred times more beautiful. And a thousand times more dangerous.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Hope.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Because my hope had been wrenched away.
Died a tragic death at the hands of my own selfishness and fear.
And even as I tried to reconcile my guilt about ruining the one good
thing I had, I still felt it like a sharp jab to the gut.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
It never left me. The pain of regret.
It was like a phantom limb. A shadow that refused to let go.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
But today, I felt it again.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Hope.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
And it was a glorious thing.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
I woke up to Tyler dumping cut up
pieces of colored construction paper all over my head. I spit them
out of my mouth and pulled bits out of my hair.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
“What the hell are you doing?” I
asked incredulously, sitting up, sending paper swirling to the
ground. My skinny as hell roommate, brought on by years of heroin
addiction, grinned at me like a loon.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
“Happy Birthday, man! Get up! The
staff go all out on your birthday! They'll cook you whatever you
want for breakfast and I sure as shit wouldn't be missing out on
that. Not when otherwise you'll be choking down oatmeal and cold
bagels with the rest of us.” I couldn't help but laugh. And damn
that felt good.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Because today could be a beginning for
me. The beginning of a whole new chapter. And there it was again...</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Hope.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
************</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
By around 2:00 in the afternoon, I had
caved to the Birthday Gods and had finally gotten into the spirit of
things. A few of the behavioral aides had brought out a cake during
lunch. The entire room had launched into a really bad version of
Happy Birthday. I had even gotten a few presents from my counselor
and other staff.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Maria and I had snuck away after group
and watched a movie in the common room. Something we never would
have gotten away with otherwise. Mail had come and gone and I
received the obligatory greeting card from my parents. I was sure it
was something my dad's secretary had picked up at Walmart. It looked
cheap and cheesy and was only signed “mom and dad.” And I swear
it wasn't even their handwriting.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
It wasn't as though I was surprised by
their lack of sentiment. But I had to seriously tamp down the flash
of hurt I had felt nonetheless.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
I had met with Dr. Todd briefly to
discuss my treatment. I was due to be released from the center in two
weeks. Though, Dr. Todd informed me that since I was now a legal
adult, I could discharge myself if I chose to do so.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
That had given me pause. Wow. I
really did have full control over my future. My parents didn't
dictate anything about my life anymore. And the giddiness I had
denied myself earlier, let loose inside of me without abandon.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
But I had to be careful. I couldn't
let my newfound freedom ruin the progress I had made. It would be so
easy to check myself out, go about living my life and forget about
the sordid ugliness I had been living for so long.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
But that was ridiculous. Because if I
didn't' finish what I had started and continue to commit to my on
going treatment the darkness would find me again. I couldn't run
from it.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
So I had assured Dr. Todd I would be
staying the remaining two weeks and he didn't' hide the relief at my
statement. He had clasped my shoulder in a way I wished my father
would and had smiled kindly, letting me know that he thought I was
making responsible and sound judgments.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
And again...I felt really good.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
*********************</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Right before dinner, I was called to
Jacqui, the night administrator's office. I couldn't help but wrack
my brain, thinking of some infraction I may have committed. But I
had been good as gold for some time now, so I couldn't' figure out
what I was needed for.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
I walked into the office and was
greeted by a warm set of arms that wrapped around me. I brought my
arms up and held my Aunt Ruby, who was gripping me like her life
depended on it. I should have realized when I hadn't heard from her
today that she was up to something.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
But I had never thought she'd come down
to Florida to see me. But that was Ruby. She had always loved me
more than I sometimes deserved.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
“Ruby.” I said, smiling at my much
shorter Aunt. She beamed up at me. She was dressed in her typical
gypsy getup, complete with flowing skirts and some crazy scarf thing
around her neck. She even had tiny shells sticking out of her hair.
Where the hell she got the ideas for her crazy outfits, I had no
idea.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Ruby reached up and patted my cheek,
the way she had done since I was a little kid. “My Clay. It's so
good to see you.” Her grin was infectious. Ruby radiated a
positive energy that was impossible to ignore. She had helped to
pull me from many a bad place just by being her. I would do anything
and everything for the woman who stood in front of me. She was the
mother I wished I had. She had been down at least four times in the
last three months. Lisa had come with her whenever she could, but
work kept her pretty busy.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Four times, my aunt had been to see me
and my parents hadn't come once.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
“What are you doing here?” I asked
her as she hugged me tightly again. Ruby pulled back and gave me a
mock scowl.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
“As if I would miss your eighteenth
birthday! Don't' be silly.” She swatted my arm and pulled me over
to the small couch that sat in the corner of the office. Jacqui had
left, giving us some time to visit. Ruby hefted the heavy bag she
had brought with her.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
“Are you carting around a ton of
bricks in there?” I joked, watching as my aunt pulled out a
squished cardboard box.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
“Oh, darn. It's all smooshed.”
Ruby complained, peering down into the box. She closed the lid and
handed it to me. “Well, it should still taste good.” She had
brought me a freaking birthday cake. Complete with my name and tiny
little paintbrushes made in colored icing for decoration. I felt my
chest seize up. Christ, I was seriously turning into a complete
douche bag. Crying over every tiny thing. What happened to my man
card? You'd think I had turned it in a long time ago with the way I
was getting all choked up over cheap, grocery store birthday cake.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
But fuck me, I couldn't remember the
last time I had a birthday cake. And today I had had two. Even I
wasn't immune to the warm fuzzies that brought on. Ruby then pulled
out two plates.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
I grinned as she cut me a large slab
and I hate it like a starving man. I was always a sucker for sweets.
Ruby ate delicately around the icing, complaining that she should
have gotten carob instead of chocolate because it's healthier. I let
her grumble about how white sugar was worse than rat poison and
ingesting refined flour was like personally asking for your pancreas
to shut down. Yep, I just silently listened and ate the hell out of
some chocolate birthday cake.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
“I still can't believe you came down
here. It really means a lot to me.” I said finally, washing down
the cake with a bottle of water. Ruby's eyes started to water and I
braced myself for the tear fest. Ruby was extremely emotional and
once upon a time I would have run for the hills at the slightest hint
of the touchy feely stuff.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
I had spent a long time creating a very
thick, impenetrable wall around myself. A wall that made it easier
for me to live each day inside my own, very messed up head. If I
didn't let people get too close, than I didn't have to feel the guilt
of screwing up later.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
But that had been blown all to hell by
a pair of beautiful brown eyes and a snarky attitude.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Can't go there. Not now. Not when I
was actually feeling okay. Shit, I'd end up a blubbering mess along
side my already blubbering aunt.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Ruby wrapped her small hand around my
wrist and squeezed. I reached up to cover her hand with my larger
one. I was okay with showing her that I loved her. I was learning
that it was good to share your feelings. That I didn't have to
protect people from the person that I was. That damn it, I was worth
loving. This was drilled into my head during every therapy session.
I was told over and over again that gosh darn it, people like me.
But it still stuck in the back of my throat. This crazy notion that
I was a decent human being.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
“Clayton Reed, I'd have moved into
your room if I was able to. But something tells me they might frown
on that here.” I snorted. Even though she was joking, I wouldn't
have put it passed Ruby to try. “Lisa and I love you as if you
were our own. We will always be here for you. No matter what.”
Ruby finished seriously. My throat felt uncomfortably tight, but in
a good way. A really good way.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
“I love you guys too. I can't thank
you enough for everything you've done for me.” I said in quietly,
proud of myself for being able to express my feelings in an
appropriate way (thank you coping skills 101). Ruby furiously wiped
at the tears that leaked out of the corners of her eyes. She pulled
a handkerchief out of her pocket and blew her nose noisily. Nothing
like a cotton wad full of snot to kill the heaviness.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
“Enough with all of this crying.
It's time for gifts!” Ruby enthused, giving me another watery
smile before pulling three packages out of her bag.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
“Ruby. You didn't have to get me
anything. Just you being here is enough.” I said, though I
couldn't help but feel an anticipatory excitement that I hadn't felt
in a long time. The kind of bubbling in your stomach that you only
feel on Christmas morning. Or before you get behind the wheel of the
car after getting your license.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Or before you kiss your girl for the
first time.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Anyway...onto presents.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Ruby watched as I unwrapped the gifts.
She and Lisa had gotten me a new charcoal kit, a ridiculously
expensive set of paint brushes and a bunch of new sketch books. I
couldn't stop the goofy grin that spread across my face. There was
nothing in this world she could have given me that would have meant
more.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Drawing and painting were everything to
me. I had become almost obsessive about it. But it was that
indelible part of me that I refused to ever give up. I had lost so
much already, but I always had my art.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
“I wasn't sure exactly what you used,
but the girl at the art store assured me these were the best.”
Ruby said a little nervously. I ran my hand through my hair, a
little overwhelmed by those prickly emotions again. But now I could
appreciate them for what they were and not worry about potential
explosions. Medication was a fantastic thing.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
“They're awesome Ruby. Thank you so
much! I'll call Lisa later to thank her as well. This is just...”
My voice trailed off and I grinned like an idiot at my aunt, who was
smiling like a loon. Hah. <i>Like a loon</i>. Yep, we looked like
a couple of...well, mental patients. I couldn't help but crack up as
I thought that.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Then suddenly Ruby's mood sobered. The
change in her demeanor threw me and I was instantly on edge. She
reached into her bag and pulled out another gift. This one wasn't'
wrapped in the traditional birthday paper the others had been.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Looking closely, I could see that this
one was bundled up meticulously in the Davidson Digest, the local
paper of Davidson, Virginia. I looked at Ruby questioningly. She
was staring down at the mysterious gift and I could tell she was
uncomfortable. What the hell was hiding in that paper? A fucking
bomb?</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
“More gifts Ruby? You shouldn't
have.” I joked, already hating the seriousness that had overtaken
my usually jovial aunt. Ruby clutched the object in her hands and
held it out for me to take. Slowly I took it. It was heavier than
it looked. I couldn't get a read on its contents through the thick
paper.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
I started to pull at the tape when Ruby
covered my hand, stopping me. She looked at me with concern and I
dropped it on the table. “What is it Ruby? Just spit it out.” I
said, feeling more than a little annoyed by the smoke and mirrors
bullshit going on. What the hell was so scary about a damn present?</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Ruby sighed. “It's from Maggie.”
She said quietly.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Oh. Well there was that.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
I swear the air left my lungs and I
felt like I was suffocating. My heart started beating in overtime
and I thought I might pass out. It was nuts how just the mention of
her name caused such an instant physical response. It was like my
body reacted on a primal level to it.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Ruby and I never talked about Maggie.
Hell, I very rarely talked about Maggie. The few times she had been
brought up with my friends at the center, I shut it down as quick as
possible. Not because I didn't <i>want </i>to
talk about her. But because talking about Maggie was hard.
It was painful. It was like taking a kick to the kidneys. But it
also made me remember what I was missing on the outside. What I had
given up because I was a fucking coward who couldn't deal with life.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
My memories of Maggie Young were
complicated. And the only safe place I had really been able to let
loose about it was with Dr. Todd. Therapy was my safe place. I let
things rip there that I never would anywhere else. There I could
indulge in the fucked up darkness that I still felt inside when I
remembered how badly I hurt the girl I loved the most. How I ached
for her every single day. How I wanted nothing more than to run back
to her and beg her to take me back.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Dr. Todd and I were working through my
feelings of guilt and shame where Maggie was concerned. Because I
had hurt her more than I had hurt anybody else. Because she was the
person who had been prepared to walk off the cliff with me.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
And I had almost let her.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
“Maggie?” I choked out, trying not
to strangle on the effort it took to say her name.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Ruby nodded, her mouth tight with
worry. I knew she was scared that mentioning the girl I had loved
and lost would make me lose it. And part of me wanted to lose it.
But then what would that accomplish? Maggie would still be a
thousand miles away, living her life, just as I had wanted her to.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
But here I was, holding a gift from
her, ready to cry like a little baby at the mere mention of her name.
She had me by the balls. Now more than ever. That was painfully
clear.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
“She came into the shop last week.”
Ruby began, watching me closely. I worked hard at keeping my face
perfectly neutral, when inside I was screaming. Inside I was cursing
the fucking cosmos, fate, whatever, for this god damn tragedy that I
called a life.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
“Oh yeah?” I asked with the fakest
attempt at casual that I had ever heard. It was laughable. I <i>would</i>
have laughed if I hadn't wanted to cut my fucking skin until I bled.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Damn it! I hadn't felt like that in a
while. It was not a good thing.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
But I took a deep breath and counted to
ten. I found my super bubbly happy place in my head and got my shit
under control. Because I was desperate to know about Maggie. To
hear about her. To know what she had wrapped so carefully under the
newspaper in front of me. And nothing could have kept me from that.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Ruby took another deep breath and
continued. “I hadn't seen her since after you had come to Florida.
She looked good, Clay. Really good. She seems to be in a really
good place.” Ruby said, smiling slightly. I responded with my own
smile. Because that did feel good. Knowing she was okay and not
miserable because of what I had done to her.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
“That's great.” I said with
sincerity. Ruby's face relaxed marginally when I had yet to freak
out on her. Little did she know there was still time...okay my
sense of humor sucked, even as an internal monologue.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
“Yes, it is.” Ruby agreed. She
cleared her throat. “She came in to look over the new books. I
told her it was good to see her but I left her alone. Let her do her
own thing.” I smiled at the thought of Maggie getting all giddy
over a bunch of used books. She was such a dork for that kind of
thing. A beautiful dork of course.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
“That's cool. She always did love
your shop.” Ruby nodded.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
“That she did.” She agreed.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
There was a moment of silence and I
thought that was it. <i>Great story, Ruby, </i>I
thought dryly, trying not roll my eyes. But I should have
known better. Ruby was known for dragging things out. It took her
forever to spit out the point of what she was trying to tell you.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
“Before she left, she came up to the
counter and handed me <i>that</i>. She said it was for you. For
your birthday. She asked me to make sure you got it because she
didn't know where you were. I took it Clay, but I wasn't entirely
sure I was going to give it to you.” Ruby told me, looking me
straight in the eye.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
I grimaced, understanding her
hesitance. “Yeah, I get it. But it's okay. Really.” I assured
her, my fingers itching to rip off the paper and see what Maggie had
given me. I needed to see it. More than I needed anything at that
moment.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Not waiting any longer, I pulled the
wrapping and tossed it on the floor. At the first glimpse of the
dark, charcoal butterfly on the cover, I had to sit back and take a
minute. Because this girl was going to undo me from a thousand miles
away. She was getting ready to rip my fucking heart out.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Because I recognized that butterfly.
Because I had drawn it myself. For her.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
For Maggie.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
“What the hell?” I said more to
myself, pulling the leather bound book into my lap. Opening it up, I
realized it was a scrap book. Page after page, Maggie had carefully
placed my drawings on plain mattes. They were the ones from my
bedroom wall in Virginia. And the ones I had given her.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Every single one was there. Every.
Single. One.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Ruby was looking at the pictures over
my shoulder as I flipped through. I turned to my aunt. “When did
she do this? When did she get my pictures?” I asked in absolute
disbelief. I was stunned by what was in my hands. Like a piece of
me had been returned. As though once again, Maggie May Young and
galloped in to the rescue.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Ruby touched one of her fingers to a
picture of Maggie's face that I had drawn in pencil. I loved that
picture. I remembered the day she had come over to my house to study
and had ended up falling asleep. Watching her sleep (and not in a
creepy, stalker way. It was totally romantic, alright) was one of
the most peaceful moments for me back then. She was so beautiful and
unguarded and I loved her so damn much I hurt with it.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
So I drew her. I had to. I needed to
capture that moment when everything was perfect.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
My heart thudded in my chest at the
weight of what this album meant. For Maggie. And for me. Because I
knew she still loved me. And damned if that didn't make me feel like
doing a tap dance in the middle of the room. And I would have to if
I didn't think it might make me end up with a Thorazine drip.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
“She came over to the house, not long
after you were sent here. She asked to go up to your room, that
there were things she needed to get from up there. Lisa and I didn't
see the harm. Not after everything...” She stopped abruptly.
There was no sense in her continuing that particular thought. We
both knew how much Maggie had been through.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
I continued to thumb through the pages.
Ruby and I remained quiet as I took it all in. These pictures that
reminded me so much of the one bright spot I had during the darkest
time of my life. Of the girl who had tried to save me even as I
destroyed her.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Shit, I was going to fucking cry. I
felt the tears prick in my eyes and I rubbed them away with the heel
of my hand. I squeezed my eyes shut.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Deep breath.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
One. Two. Three.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Deep breath.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
I opened my eyes, lingering on Maggie's
face in front of me before flipping back to the front. And then I
saw something I hadn't noticed before. On the bottom corner of the
inside cover, a piece of paper was tapped to the leather.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
It was from Maggie. Christ, she had
written me a note. I wasn't sure I could read it. Not when I was
already feeling like I had been run over by an eighteen wheeler.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
But I did anyway. As if I could ever
resist her.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
And I was glad I did.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<i>There is more beauty inside you than
anyone I have ever met. These pictures don't lie. I won't ever
forget you. Or stop loving you. You can ask me to. You can tell me
to move on. But I won't. And I never will. Just don't forget how
beautiful we were. How beautiful we can still be. Please. </i>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<i>~Maggie</i></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00475134492633014156noreply@blogger.com19tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3857445576859781212.post-65039739436558105552012-12-05T03:33:00.004-08:002012-12-05T03:33:47.070-08:00Because I hit 400 likes on my Facebook page...here's a little something for you.Thank you to everyone for liking my Facebook page!<br />
<br />
Here is Clay and Maggie's first meeting from Find You in the Dark, only told from Clay's perspective! Enjoy!<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: medium;">The First Day of School ~
Clay~</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
“<span style="font-size: small;">Time to get up!”
Ruby's voice called in from the hallway. I groaned and pulled the
covers over my head. Fuck me! I was functioning on less than four
hours of sleep and felt like shit. Maybe if I ignored her, Ruby
would forget I was even here.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;">I should have known
better.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
“<span style="font-size: small;">Wake up, Clayton! You
don't want to be late on your first day of school!” My aunt's sing
song voice, normally almost soothing to me, was grating as hell at
6:45 in the morning. </span>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;">Six forty-fucking-five in
the god damn fucking morning! </span>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
“<span style="font-size: small;">I'm up.” The words
were muffled through the flannel of my comforter. Slowly I pulled
the blanket back and stared at the ceiling. It was my first day of
school in Virginia. First day of my own personal hell. Welcome to
the Thunderdome, baby. </span>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;">I didn't waste too much
time lying there, knowing Ruby would come bursting through the door
if she didn't hear me getting up. So I slowly put my feet on the
floor and stretched out my body. Scrubbing my hands through my
overly long, dark hair, I tried to quell the nerves in my stomach.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;">Looking around the room, I
realized I had become a stranger in my own life. I hadn't been to
Virginia since I was a kid and now I was, living here. With a woman
who I didn't really know that well, about to go to a brand new
school. I didn't know anyone. Christ, I barely knew myself. I
didn't hold out any hope that this place would be any different than
the one I had just left. Same shit, different zip code. </span>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;">Lord knows I sure as hell
didn't feel any different. I still felt like a fucking mess inside.
Four months in psychiatric treatment didn't do shit. Sure, I'd been
given a fancy label for the crazy crap going on in my head. Bi-polar
disorder. Borderline Personality. They were just words.
Definitions for a less than normal person. </span>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;">Because normal was
something I didn't think I'd ever be. </span>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;">Normal sounded wonderful
though. Most people would rather die than feel ordinary. Kids my
age were striving to become something unique. They wanted to be
their own individual, completely different. But I'd give anything to
blend in. To feel like for once, I was just like everyone else.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;">I lifted the plastic
bottle from my bedside table. I shook it, hearing the sound of the
pills jangling around. They were supposed to be the answer I needed
to fix the ugliness inside me. I was supposed to be taking them
twice a day, probably for the rest of my life.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;">But I hated them. I hated
the dulling of my thoughts. The way my limbs felt heavy and hard to
move. I hated that all I wanted to do was sleep my life away rather
than live it.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;">If that was my magic cure,
then I'd keep on fucking looking. Because it sure as hell wasn't in
the bottle in my hands.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;">I felt the anger rise up
out of my very dark place. I threw the bottle across the room,
watching it hit the window with a satisfying smack. The bottle was
still intact. Damn it.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
“<span style="font-size: small;">Clay! If you don't get
in the shower, I'm coming in and getting you!” I heard someone
threaten from outside my door. I cringed, recognizing Ruby's
girlfriend, Lisa. I'd better get a move on, because knowing her,
she'd actually do it.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;">Whereas Ruby was full of
happy, sparkles and kittens, Lisa was hard and firm. And I did not
want to mess with the bad ass biker lady, poised ready to come
through my door and drag me into the shower.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;">I grabbed my robe and
threw open the door to find Lisa standing there, her arms crossed
over her chest, a scowl on her face. “I'm on it.” I said, moving
passed her down the hallway. Lisa was extremely intimidating, but I
sensed a softness beneath the hard exterior. I didn't know Lisa that
well, even though she and Ruby had been together for five years.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;">Ruby was my mom's older
sister. Once upon a time, Ruby and my mother had been close (as
close as anyone could be to my mom). She used to come down to
Florida for Christmas and in the summer. But that had all changed
when I was around twelve years old. I had been too young at the time
to understand what “coming out” meant. </span>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;">I figured it out later
that Ruby had finally admitted to my parents that she was a lesbian
and had fallen in love and moved in with a woman named Lisa. My
parents had immediately cut off communication. My father, a
conservative Republican, had no place for “alternative lifestyles”
in his family. My mom was just a judgmental bitch who would rather
cut off her family than face a life choice that was different than
hers.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;">I couldn't think about my
parents without feeling rage. Rage and hurt and a twinge of hate.
They were my parents in DNA only. They had made it perfectly clear
that they were through with me. That they were tired of my “issues”
and that's why they had shipped me to Virginia. </span>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;">I had embarrassed them.
Humiliated them in front of their friends. I had forced them to face
a side of me that they had tried to deny for so long. So they had
thrown me into a hospital until I was deemed <i>okay </i>to
leave. Then they sent me here. With nothing more than some clothes
in a suitcase. </span>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;">I knew
they hated me if my mother was willing to talk to her black sheep of
a sister in order to get rid of me. I had only arrived three days
ago. I had been discharged from the hospital and a car picked me up,
the driver gave me my plane ticket and I touched down in Washington
D.C three hours later.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;">No
call, no letter, nothing from my parents but a second hand message
from a complete stranger that I was going to live with my Aunt Ruby
for an indefinite amount of time. I knew Ruby had spoken to my
mother since I had arrived, but I hadn't. Not that I particularly
wanted to. But that little boy inside of me that longed for a
mother's affection, ached with the knowledge that my own parents, the
people who had given me life, wanted nothing to do with me.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;">Well,
there was a fucking depressing thought for first thing in the
morning. <i>Way to start the day, asshole!</i>
I thought to myself harshly. </span>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;">I
got in the shower, going through the motions, without really thinking
about them. Back in my room, I went through the clothes in my
suitcase that lay open on the floor. I hadn't bothered to unpack
yet. Mostly because I was too busy being depressed and angry to
think about getting my life into some sort of a routine. </span>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;">So I
threw on the first clean pair of clothes that I found, a pair of
jeans and a gray t-shirt. I picked up my army jacket and headed out
the door. Putting my arms through the familiar sleeves, was a
strange sort of comfort. I had gotten the beat up jacket at Goodwill
in Miami. My mom had hated it. So of course I loved it. I wore it
every god damn day.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
“<span style="font-size: small;">There
you are.” Ruby said, smiling as I entered the kitchen. The room
was warm, with sun coming through the stained glass window above the
sink. My aunt stood at the stove, cooking a pile of eggs. “Sit,
eat.” She said, setting a plate with eggs and toast down at the
table.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
“<span style="font-size: small;">I
don't normally eat breakfast.” I told her, looking at the food in
mild disgust. Taking my medicine killed my appetite. The thought of
eating right now made me feel faintly sick to my stomach. Yet
another reason, I refused to take the the pills this morning. Not
eating wasn't normal. And damn it, I'd be normal any way I could.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
“<span style="font-size: small;">Well,
just try. You can't go to school on an empty stomach.” Ruby said
as though I were a small child. She handed me a steaming mug. The
liquid inside was unidentifiable. I sniffed it hesitantly. I never
knew what my new age aunt would try to foist on me. Just yesterday
she insisted I drink a tea infused with angelica root to try and
purge my negative aura. It had made me want to puke.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
“<span style="font-size: small;">What
is it?” I asked, peering into the cup. Ruby patted my back. </span>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
“<span style="font-size: small;">It's
Earl Grey, silly.” I let out a sigh of relief. </span>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
“<span style="font-size: small;">With
a few drops of St. John's Wort essential oil for positive mood.”
Ruby added as she went over to get her own mug of tea. I sat the
drink down on the table. Lisa came in as I was pushing my eggs
around on my plate. She poured me a cup of coffee and I gave her a
small, but grateful smile. </span>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
“<span style="font-size: small;">Thanks.”
I said, drinking it in two gulps. </span>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;">Ruby
was humming under her breath as she cleaned up the kitchen. Lisa sat
down beside me and started going through the paper. “Did you take
your pill?” She asked me, without looking up. I grit my teeth. It
was going to be hard to get anything passed her. Ruby seemed pretty
oblivious to a lot of things. But Lisa was shrewd. And smart.
Which might make my life a hell of a lot more difficult. </span>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
“<span style="font-size: small;">Yeah.”
I lied effortlessly. I had grown used to lying. I lied often, and
without guilt. But the level stare Lisa tossed my way, made me
swallow thickly. I started to pick at a healing scab on the
underside of my arm. Something I often did when I felt agitated. I
ran my fingertip along the rough edge of the cut. It was straight
and precise. Made with a confident hand. Made to hurt and forget
all at the same time. </span>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
“<span style="font-size: small;">Just
make sure you do. Your medicine helps you. You don't want to end up
back at the hospital, do you?” She asked me, taking a sip of her
coffee, but never looking away from me. Her eyes followed my fingers
anxiously picking at the scab on my arm and I immediately stopped the
nervous movement. I pressed my hand to the table top, trying to stop
myself from picking.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
“<span style="font-size: small;">Uh,
no. Definitely not.” I agreed. Fuck. This lady most certainly
had my number. And I felt oddly reassured by that. I wasn't used to
anyone really giving a crap about me. No one had ever taken the time
to care about about how and what I was doing. But these two women
were making it clear that <i>they</i>
did. </span>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;">I felt an unaccustomed
relief that was startling in its intensity. </span>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;">Lisa laid a hand on top of
my clenched one. “Take care of yourself, Clay.” She said softly
before moving her hand away and returning to the paper. </span>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;">I didn't know what to do
with the warm feelings that sentiment gave me. So I got to my feet
and carried my plate to the sink. Ruby put her arm around my waist
and gave me a squeeze. I froze. Physical affection was really weird
for me. Again, it wasn't something I was used to. But Ruby hugged
me without wanting anything in return. Unconditional love was new to
me. And made me feel really uncomfortable. </span>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;">I moved away from my aunt.
“I'd better get going.” I said, reaching for the messenger bag
that hung on a hook on the wall. </span>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;">Ruby handed me a few
papers. “Don't forget to stop by the office and check in when you
get there. They'll give you your schedule. Good luck.” She gave
me a wide smile. I tried to smile back, but my lips didn't appear to
be working. Good luck. Yeah, I'd be needing a lot of that.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;">Lisa waved as I grabbed my
car keys and headed out the door. The day was warm. Not Florida
warm, but still nice. I hadn't seen much of Davidson since I had
arrived. But it seemed like a quiet town, with not a lot going on.
Which was a nice change from the overly frenetic energy of Miami. </span>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;">I was glad to leave the
mayhem behind and maybe settle into a nice quiet life here. If that
were possible. My fingers moved to my scabbed arms again. A
constant reminder that I was only deluding myself. Nice, quiet,
normal. Those words weren't in my vocabulary. And I didn't think
they ever would be.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;">I unlocked my five series
BMW with a sort of twisted loathing. I hated the car. I hated
everything it represented. Because my parents had given it to me on
my sixteenth birthday. They loved to play at being the perfect,
doting parents in front of their friends and associates. And that
was the entire point of that useless piece of metal. It was a
statement. It said, “see what great parents we are? We gave our
son this awesome car!” It made me sick.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;">They had shipped the car
here a while ago. Apparently, they had planned on me coming to
Virginia way before I had known about it. Ruby had said it had
arrived three months ago. While I was still on lock down in the
Miami General psych ward. </span>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;">But I needed wheels, so I
was kind of stuck. No way I'd drive Ruby's VW bug with the whacked
out bumper stickers reading “break for my broom” and “my karma
is my dogma.” I didn't want to come across as a complete pussy.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;">I headed toward Jackson
High School. I was nervous. I could admit that. Though I shouldn't
be. This wasn't the first time I'd be the new kid at school. I had
changed schools three times in the last six years. Usually when my
behavior got me expelled and my parents were forced to find me a new
private school to attend. I never lasted long. Self-destruction was
my middle name. And walking the straight and narrow was not what I
did. </span>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;">I wondered, with humorless
amusement, how long I'd last here. </span>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;">I pulled into the parking
lot and stared up at the brick building. This was my first time at
public school. And I did <i>not </i>want
to go inside. I wonder if I could get away with skipping on my first
day? But I thought about Ruby and Lisa and how much they were
putting themselves out to let me live with them. And for once, I
felt a little guilt. And a realization that my actions <i>would
</i>affect others.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;">Huh.
Maybe I had learned something in all of that therapy. </span>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;">I
finished listening to the song on my stereo, drumming my fingers on
the steering wheel. I was already late, might as well enjoy my
music. I watched other students scramble toward the school. Like a
bunch of mice, scurrying inside. I was going to hate it here. I
just knew it. I didn't fit in with these small town, walking talking
stereotypes. Who the fuck was I kidding? </span>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;">But I
wasn't there to make friends. I'd had enough of people pretending to
like me for one life time. This time I'd stay the fuck to myself.
The fewer people to get involved in my life the better. I didn't
need the fake sympathy and then the more obvious disgust when they
realized how messed up I really was. I had been used by people my
entire life and I didn't want any more of that.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;">I
just needed to get through the year. Graduate. Then move the fuck
on. My life would be own. I turned 18 in March. Then my parents
could go fuck themselves, because I would be making decisions for <i>me.</i></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;">I had
worked myself up pretty well by the time I finally got out of the
car. I was feeling good and pissed as I grabbed my bag and the
papers Ruby had given me and headed toward the school. I had no idea
where I was going. </span>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;">I
stopped in the middle of the side walk and started going through the
papers, trying to find the name of the administrator I would have to
speak with. I dreaded having to walk through those door. Dreaded
having to start this whole living thing all over again. </span>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;">Then
it felt like a damn wrecking ball smacked into my back. I stumbled
forward and dropped the papers I was holding. My temper immediately
flared. My head started to buzz and my fists clenched. I was ready
to take someone's fucking head off!</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
“<span style="font-size: small;">What
the fuck?!” I growled, reaching down to pick my papers up off the
ground. I started to cuss. A lot. Fuck, shit, god damn it! They
all came out of my mouth like verbal weapons. Aimed at the asshole
who had yet to apologize for knocking into me. </span>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;">I
straightened up and looked down at a girl who was fitting a piece of
plastic onto the back of her phone. She hadn't bothered to look up
at me and I couldn't really see her face. Long, brown hair hung
around her, eyes trained down to the object in her hands. </span>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
“<span style="font-size: small;">Oh,
I'm sorry. Did I miss the stop sign?” She asked sarcastically. I
almost laughed. Was she serious? I didn't know if I should be angry
or amused. Though she still hadn't looked up and her rudeness
started to piss me off again.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
“<span style="font-size: small;">Guess
it's too much to expect an apology.” I said through clenched teeth.
I was goading her. I wanted her to look at me. The fact that she
hadn't yet, bothered the shit out of me. </span>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
“<span style="font-size: small;">Probably.”
She answered offhandedly, finally looking up. And when she did, I
swear the air left my lungs. Who the hell was this girl? She was
fucking gorgeous. Her long, brown hair hung down her back in a slick
stream. Her wide, brown eyes blinked at me as though she were
startled by my appearance. Thick bangs covered her forehead and her
perfect nose scrunched in annoyance, once she got herself together.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;">I felt
my hands grow slick and I shoved them into the pockets of my jacket.
My heart was hammering in my chest and I couldn't stop staring at
her. God, I must look like a damn psycho leering at her like that.
Her face and neck were flushed and her chest rose and fell heavily.
I tried not to stare at her chest as it moved. But my eyes drifted
there anyway. </span>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;">Christ!
I was ogling some strange girl's chest in front of the school! Get
it together, man! </span>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;">I
fixed my eyes back on her face and watched as her jaw clenched. She
was angry...and really hot.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;">I
closed my eyes, trying to get myself under control. No friends! No
social interaction! That was my mantra! I had to remember it. No,
I was going to have to force myself to stay away from this girl.
Whoever she was.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;">But
then what do I do? Like an idiot, I try to find a way to keep
talking to her. Like she was my new drug of choice and I couldn't
get enough.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;">I had
known this girl for all of thirty seconds and I was already ready to
follow her to the edge of the earth and back. Yep, I was insane.
But I knew that already. Nothing new there. </span>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;">The
girl gave me a funny look and started to walk passed me without
another word. But I had to stop her. I needed to! “Well, you
could at least tell me where the main office is. You know, after
practically running me over and all.” I said to her retreating
back, hoping like hell she'd turn back around. Just so I could see
her face again.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;">But
she didn't look at me again. She kept moving toward the school as
though I had already become an after thought. “You're a big boy,
I'm sure you can handle this one on your own.” She called over her
shoulder. I couldn't help but watch the way her hips swayed as she
moved. </span>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
“<span style="font-size: small;">Thanks
for nothing!” I yelled after her, annoyed that I was so bothered by
the fact that she had completely blown me off. Isn't that what I
wanted? To be left alone? </span>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;">She
didn't respond, disappearing inside the school. And I stared after
her.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;">Damn,
I was in trouble. </span>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00475134492633014156noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3857445576859781212.post-39879504843806185552012-11-21T14:16:00.000-08:002012-11-21T14:16:44.088-08:00Find You in the Dark novella title reveal...I've uploaded a page for my new novella, on Goodreads.com, which will be out early next year. This is a spin off of Find You in the Dark and follows the love story of Maggie's best friends Daniel and Rachel. I plan to put this out before I release the sequel to FYITD, Light in the Shadows. <br />
<br />
The title is....<br />
<br />
Cloud Walking.<br />
<br />
The official blurb will be out soon, but have a look on goodreads!Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00475134492633014156noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3857445576859781212.post-73745557348501453752012-11-20T12:29:00.002-08:002012-11-20T12:29:38.580-08:00Celebrate Thanksgiving and Black Friday by reading Find You in the Dark for $.99 on amazon!This will be my first Thanksgiving in the UK...and I must say I'm missing it already. No holiday on this side of the pond :-( . So I thought as a way to say thanks for all the support for Find You in the Dark, I would put it on sale, starting tomorrow through Black Friday for $.99 on amazon. So spread the word and spread the love!!!! Get your read on!Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00475134492633014156noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3857445576859781212.post-58941362721615465672012-11-17T01:42:00.003-08:002012-11-17T01:42:56.958-08:00Welcome to my new blog!Okay, so I'm finally jumping on the blogging bandwagon. This process will be full of growing pains...but I hope to make this a place for everyone to come and learn more about upcoming projects. So hang in there while I get the hang of this. :-)Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00475134492633014156noreply@blogger.com0