at least people i like to be friends with (if not - i can kind of look passed it).
i thought i would take the opportunity to introduce you to jenn. who is one mighty nice lady and one helluva writer. you can find her blogging at quirky pickings where she does some of the best giveaways and has great posts and just in general she's like the nicest person and one of my most favorite internet friends.
jenn is currently working on a novel and after reading the first chapter she sent me i demanded that she send me more and she did and it's excellent and i love it! so here today is a snippet from said novel that i thought i would share with you!
so get your read on and then go ahead and let jenn know that you love it just as much as i do!
so there's this girl named isabel. she likes this guy called reese. and he likes her, but she's more than a little surprised by this. and not prepared for what happens next. their story begins three years ago in the fall.
“Isabel, it’s barely one,” Reese said.
She paused, angled her head so that she could see him. “I gotta be at school early.”
“On a Sunday?”
“I know.” She shoved her hair back. Not because it was in her way—she’d managed, miraculously, to get through a whole day without putting her hair up—but because she needed something to do with her hands to hide the way they sometimes shook, like her voice did, whenever she spoke to him. So she spoke fast. “I gotta get to the ceramics studio to finish up some projects.”
“Oh. Well, I’ll walk you out.”
Why? Her brow furrowed. “I’m not that far. Just the garage across the street. You don’t have to.” I kind of don’t want you to. Not that it’s not nice of you to offer. But, then I’d have to talk to you.
“I’ll walk you out.”
“Okay.” She waited, reluctantly, as Matthew let Reese out. He stood, placed a hand at the small of her back. A second of shock. Of alarm. Her dark eyes widened then fluttered shut as her mindset shifted from appalled to appreciative—it actually felt kind of nice to have his hand there—and then to wonder. What the hell? That’s not friendly. That’s… that’s… what the hell? Her gaze snapped to his. And she thought she saw amusement flash across his face.
“Change your mind? You gonna stay?”
He’s just being nice, Isa, which is what you like about him. Snap out of it. “No.” She turned her head and marched to the entrance. Glanced at the bouncers as she uttered, “Good night.”
His hand wasn’t at her back anymore. She’d walked a little too quickly for that. To keep her hands busy, for a distraction, she began twirling her keys. “I don’t know why you think I need an escort. I've walked to my truck a thousand times before by myself. I don’t—”
“I don’t understand why my walking with you is a big deal.”
Because I can’t talk to you! She walked faster. The sooner she got to her truck, the better. She didn’t even bother to check for traffic as they crossed to the movie theater and then again to the garage.
“I don’t understand that either,” he said.
“You don’t talk much. Especially to me. If I didn’t know you, I’d think you didn’t like me.”
But I do. I do. “Maybe I don’t have much to say.”
“Oh, I doubt that. I think you have a lot to say. You just don’t say any of it.”
Hurry up, Isabel!
“Especially to me,” he repeated. “I wonder why that is.”
Then why ask the question? “So?”
“So, I don’t understand why?”
She sighed. Because you’re a beautiful man, and I like looking at you. A good one, and I wouldn’t have a clue what to talk to you about because you’re you, and I’m me, and… I’m just a girl. Too damaged and far too fragile for the likes of you. “I don’t suppose just because would be a sufficient answer.”
“I suppose so. You’re gonna be at the studio all day tomorrow?”
Ugh. Unfortunately, yes. “God, I hope not.”
“What do you have to do?”
Pretty much everything. They’d gotten to her truck. She unlocked it, threw her things inside and stood there, her back against the cab. Sure, she liked looking at him. But not when he was looking at her. So she focused on everything she saw around him. The cracks in the concrete. The scuff marks on her favorite shoes, her Docs—I should take them to a shoe shop and have them cleaned. The shrubbery on the other side of the brick. The glint of chrome—And I should get my truck washed. And the gleam of red paint—Why anyone would spring for a red car, one the color of a tomato, and pay more to insure the thing makes no sense. Ceramics, Isabel. Focus. “I've to glaze three pieces and make one. I’ll probably be there all day. It’s gonna suck, but that’s what I get for cramming the majority of a semester’s work into one day, for waiting ‘til the last minute.” She glanced at her watch, more to busy her hands than to check the time. “I should’ve left earlier.”
“How much earlier? An hour? Two? We’d just gotten there at eleven.”
“Yeah. I know. But I won’t be in bed until two, and I doubt I’ll get to sleep until three, and I gotta get up at eight.” She’d been thinking aloud. Too much, Isabel. He doesn’t need to know this. She blew out a breath. “It’s late.”
“So. Sleep ‘til nine.”
“Can’t. Too much to do.” She looked him then. “Why do you ask anyway? You’re working, right?”
“Yeah. I was just curious.” He grinned.
Good Lord. She fought the urge to put a hand to her stomach, to chew on her lip.
“Making conversation,” he said.
“Hm. Okay. Well.” She pressed up against the truck. The way he was looking at her now… it was weird. She didn’t know what to think of it. “I’m gonna go.” She set a hand on the interior handle, pushed the door open wider and started to climb inside. His hand was on her again. This time, he’d wrapped his fingers around her arm above the elbow. Not tight. He didn’t hurt her. But the contact had unnerved her, nonetheless. And before she had a chance to say anything, he had turned her, stepped closer still and fixed his mouth on hers. Wait. Wait. What is this? You’re not supposed to be doing this. You’re not supposed to want to. I don’t know how to do this. Reese, wait. Wait. And then… two boys. The trees. The ground. Stop. Stop!
He did. Stepped back.
Just breathe, Isa. Breathe. In. Out. In. Out. It’s Reese. Not them. He’s good. He’s good.