YA romantic fiction. Go ahead, say "blech" that's fine.
She was sitting in her rickety old recliner, reading a dirty story while the rain poured down just outside her window. She was supposed to have gone on a walk with her neighbor but they’d waited too long. She was in tight black pants and a red sateen tank, her long brunette hair pulled tightly back from her face.
Her roommate walked in and shed his shirt right away, looking huffy. Well, it was a fancy button down, probably more expensive than anything she currently owned. Brett didn’t seem to have noticed her sitting there, so she played invisible as usual, reading her story and trying not to watch the way his shoulder muscles twitched irritably as he walked to a from his bedroom, hanging up his shirt, changing into his lounge pants (fancy sweatpants apparently) and got himself a drink.
He’d noticed her, but tried not to. He thought she looked damn sexy in those slim jeans, her long legs were everywhere, one on the coffee table, the other sprawled over the leg of her recliner. He needed to distract himself before he sat down with her and settled on lighting candles and putting in a CD. Some Ella Fitzgerald was just what he needed.
He sat in his armchair, next to hers, and looked over at the computer. She blushed and clicked away, but he recognized the site before she went back to facebook.
“How’s your evening been?” He asked, smiling suddenly.
“Kinda boring. Just me and the dog. I can’t wait for school to start!”
“Me neither, your rent was due last week,” he joked. She usually paid him two months rent when she got her student loans. Extra in case she ran out of money at the end of the term.
She rolled her eyes, used to his teasing. “You know you’ll get it, either in this life or the next,” she repeated. It’s what his father always told her father. Their families went way back, which was why living with him during college had been so natural.
“I know. New jeans?”
She blushed, he was always noticing little things like that. “Yeah, grandma sent them. She actually bought me the right size for once. Probably an accident, these seem to run big.”
He nodded. “They look nice.”
She blushed again. “So, uh, how was your evening?”
He sighed. “I learned something new …”
“Oh?”
“Yeah.”
It was her turn to nod. Must’ve been something about Denise. She really wasn’t good enough for him but you just can’t tell people those things.
He mentally kicked himself. Of all the things he could have said, or should be saying now, none of them seemed right. “Yeah I realized I would rather be home with you then anywhere with her.” It just didn’t sound right.
She stopped fidgeting with the computer. “What was that?”
He looked shocked. “Um …”
Her heart was pounding.
He sighed and said it slower, not quite looking at her face.
“Oh. Did your date not go so well?” She was way over her head. Her own boyfriend was an ass and a bully. Which was why he was unwelcome in their home. But she hadn’t ever thought Brett might want to date her. They were too close for that. It must be the little sister syndrome. Again.
“You could say that.”
Her brows furrowed. They usually communicated very well and there was hardly any awkwardness between them.
“Are you …?” She hedged.
“I dunno. Damn.”
She didn’t understand anything right now, but she set down her computer and looked at her old friend. “Is there anything I can do?”
He smiled and reached to touch her cheek. “Just keep being you.”
He loved how she wore her heart on her sleeve, how her eyes told him everything he needed to know. And right now, they told him that he was doing something right. She smiled back, shy, pleased, but terribly unsure. That vulnerability was so … captivating.
She was frozen like that, staring into his handsome face, his blue grey eyes searching her. It always intimidated her when he’d look at her so intently, like she was being measured.
“Huh. All this time …”
She bit her lip, wondering where that thought was going. Doogan barked and they were pulled out of the moment as a fist pounded on the door.
“Oh no …” She looked to Brett helplessly.
“Just like we talked about … I’ll be at my desk.” They both stood and he squeezed her hand as they walked together, he toward the office and she toward the door. She took a deep, steadying breath before opening the door.
“Hey, Matt,” she said, opting for casual as she stepped out.
“Look at your bra straps showing. We talked about that, babe,” he started.
She bit her lip in annoyance, growing angry. “Let’s try that again. Hello, Matthew.”
He laughed. “Alright, I’ll play. Hey babe.”
She rolled her eyes. She hated it when he called her babe. She had a name, dammit. Say it, she told herself.
“I have a name. Danika. Try it. 3 syllables.”
“Oh you’re on the rag, huh, I’ll just come back next week.”
She was seething mad now. “No, you won’t. In fact, don’t come back next week, next month, or next year even.”
“Aw, babe … Danika … come on … I’m sorry. You know the Matt loves you.”
She rolled her eyes.
“You’re just an oversized frat boy and you don’t love me, you love that I’ve been easy, meanwhile when you find something else you go get it. Which is why you get pissy whenever I text you first.” He opened his mouth and his neck muscles were twitching. “No, don’t bother. I’m done.” She walked back into the house, shutting the door firmly and decisively clicking the dead-bolt into place.
One of the neighbor boys laughed, but shrank when Matt glared at him.
She always had that little soundtrack in her head, like a narrator was telling the story of her life from moment to moment. She didn’t just shut the door, the door didn’t just lock, they did so decisively, a metaphorical representation that she was through with that guy. See, he was that guy now! The narrator was a complete genius.
She was smiling slightly but also trembling.
Brett was standing in the foyer, pretending to re-hang the painting. “You okay, Danni?”
She nodded. “Did you … hear?”
“Yeah. You were … amazing. I actually believed it that time.” He bit his lip, and looked guilty.
“Oh. Well. You helped.”
Brett shrugged. “You deserve better.”
“So do you,” she said, in earnest.
Well here we are again, he thought, dancing around this elephant.
“Why don’t we go get a coffee and catch up on Scrabble?”
She smiled. “And one of those chocolate pastry thingy’s?”
“You got it!” He said, laughing at her sudden enthusiasm.
“Just what the doctor ordered!”
“I’m not a doctor yet …” he laughed.
“Good thing I didn’t mean you, then!” She smiled and got her purse from the coat closet.
When they had their coffee and were settled into the corner with the scrabble box, she bit her lip, in that tell tale way that said “I have a confession …”
“Okay, out with it. If you’d rather play battleship, I’m up for that!” He gave her a way out, being polite.
“No, this is fine. I just wanted to say … I’ve been feeling the same way. That I’d rather be with you then …” she shrugged, the rest of the words weren’t forming properly. The narrator had run away. The author was letting the characters run the show.
“I’m glad you didn’t leave me hanging on that,” he teased her, but gently, his smile warm.
“You really couldn’t tell?”
He forced himself to keep his face even. “You mean you couldn’t tell? Why do you think Denise was so jealous of you?”
“Oh,” she blushed.
He stopped shaking the bag of tiles. “You really had no idea? None at all?”
She shrugged. “I always thought I was like a little sister to you and that’s why you are always so good to me.”
He shook his head. Unbelievable. “I have one hot little sister then,” he chuckled, then started shaking the bag again.
She blushed again, annoyed with herself and her pale Irish skin for betraying her so much.
“I think they’re shaken enough …” she said, changing the subject.
“What?”
“The tiles …”
“Oh! Right!” He thrust the bag at her as she bit her lip, stifling a smile. She took out her seven tiles and sighed.
“6 vowels! Really?!” She shook her head and tried to figure out where to start. It was his rule that she always had to start. Probably because he was going to win anyway, so he gave her that small bit of left over from childhood happiness. Meanwhile, the narrator was back, describing in exaggerated detail how perfect he looked in the soft coffee shop light. She sighed and placed “Ape” on the center of the board.
“That wasn’t a hint, was it?”
She laughed. “No, but it was the best I could do. And don’t say “Are you sure” and then steal my rack from me!” She possessively grabbed the tile bag and took out three more before he could do just that.
“Okay, okay. That’s … six?”
“Five.”
He chuckled. “Five it is …” he said, scratching that down in her column.
He took his tiles and spelled out “Bezoar” using her “e”.
She laughed. “Nice try, but that isn’t in the Scrabble dictionary …”
“it’s in the Wizard edition.”
“Okay fine, but only if I can play this!” She placed “ieber” next to his “b” for “Bieber”.
“Nooooo, heresy!”
“Bezoar!”
“But … Not Bieber …”
She stared him down.
“Okay, okay … Bieber for 14 … Nice double word score …”
She inclined her head, graciously. Thank you. It wasn’t one of her abilities, to match up double word or letter scores in Scrabble.
I know it's short but that isn't where this scene was going at all. So I'm off to finish it in my head while I catch up on "Monstrous Regiment".
COMMENT!
SO SAID THE DEE AND SO IT MUST BE!!!
(also, no, I do not own a scrabble board at the moment and no, i'm not going to look up letter point values right now. It doesn't matter. This is just a rough draft. Scrabble letter tile point values are things editors and Tim's worry about. Not Dee's. <3 )
Her roommate walked in and shed his shirt right away, looking huffy. Well, it was a fancy button down, probably more expensive than anything she currently owned. Brett didn’t seem to have noticed her sitting there, so she played invisible as usual, reading her story and trying not to watch the way his shoulder muscles twitched irritably as he walked to a from his bedroom, hanging up his shirt, changing into his lounge pants (fancy sweatpants apparently) and got himself a drink.
He’d noticed her, but tried not to. He thought she looked damn sexy in those slim jeans, her long legs were everywhere, one on the coffee table, the other sprawled over the leg of her recliner. He needed to distract himself before he sat down with her and settled on lighting candles and putting in a CD. Some Ella Fitzgerald was just what he needed.
He sat in his armchair, next to hers, and looked over at the computer. She blushed and clicked away, but he recognized the site before she went back to facebook.
“How’s your evening been?” He asked, smiling suddenly.
“Kinda boring. Just me and the dog. I can’t wait for school to start!”
“Me neither, your rent was due last week,” he joked. She usually paid him two months rent when she got her student loans. Extra in case she ran out of money at the end of the term.
She rolled her eyes, used to his teasing. “You know you’ll get it, either in this life or the next,” she repeated. It’s what his father always told her father. Their families went way back, which was why living with him during college had been so natural.
“I know. New jeans?”
She blushed, he was always noticing little things like that. “Yeah, grandma sent them. She actually bought me the right size for once. Probably an accident, these seem to run big.”
He nodded. “They look nice.”
She blushed again. “So, uh, how was your evening?”
He sighed. “I learned something new …”
“Oh?”
“Yeah.”
It was her turn to nod. Must’ve been something about Denise. She really wasn’t good enough for him but you just can’t tell people those things.
He mentally kicked himself. Of all the things he could have said, or should be saying now, none of them seemed right. “Yeah I realized I would rather be home with you then anywhere with her.” It just didn’t sound right.
She stopped fidgeting with the computer. “What was that?”
He looked shocked. “Um …”
Her heart was pounding.
He sighed and said it slower, not quite looking at her face.
“Oh. Did your date not go so well?” She was way over her head. Her own boyfriend was an ass and a bully. Which was why he was unwelcome in their home. But she hadn’t ever thought Brett might want to date her. They were too close for that. It must be the little sister syndrome. Again.
“You could say that.”
Her brows furrowed. They usually communicated very well and there was hardly any awkwardness between them.
“Are you …?” She hedged.
“I dunno. Damn.”
She didn’t understand anything right now, but she set down her computer and looked at her old friend. “Is there anything I can do?”
He smiled and reached to touch her cheek. “Just keep being you.”
He loved how she wore her heart on her sleeve, how her eyes told him everything he needed to know. And right now, they told him that he was doing something right. She smiled back, shy, pleased, but terribly unsure. That vulnerability was so … captivating.
She was frozen like that, staring into his handsome face, his blue grey eyes searching her. It always intimidated her when he’d look at her so intently, like she was being measured.
“Huh. All this time …”
She bit her lip, wondering where that thought was going. Doogan barked and they were pulled out of the moment as a fist pounded on the door.
“Oh no …” She looked to Brett helplessly.
“Just like we talked about … I’ll be at my desk.” They both stood and he squeezed her hand as they walked together, he toward the office and she toward the door. She took a deep, steadying breath before opening the door.
“Hey, Matt,” she said, opting for casual as she stepped out.
“Look at your bra straps showing. We talked about that, babe,” he started.
She bit her lip in annoyance, growing angry. “Let’s try that again. Hello, Matthew.”
He laughed. “Alright, I’ll play. Hey babe.”
She rolled her eyes. She hated it when he called her babe. She had a name, dammit. Say it, she told herself.
“I have a name. Danika. Try it. 3 syllables.”
“Oh you’re on the rag, huh, I’ll just come back next week.”
She was seething mad now. “No, you won’t. In fact, don’t come back next week, next month, or next year even.”
“Aw, babe … Danika … come on … I’m sorry. You know the Matt loves you.”
She rolled her eyes.
“You’re just an oversized frat boy and you don’t love me, you love that I’ve been easy, meanwhile when you find something else you go get it. Which is why you get pissy whenever I text you first.” He opened his mouth and his neck muscles were twitching. “No, don’t bother. I’m done.” She walked back into the house, shutting the door firmly and decisively clicking the dead-bolt into place.
One of the neighbor boys laughed, but shrank when Matt glared at him.
She always had that little soundtrack in her head, like a narrator was telling the story of her life from moment to moment. She didn’t just shut the door, the door didn’t just lock, they did so decisively, a metaphorical representation that she was through with that guy. See, he was that guy now! The narrator was a complete genius.
She was smiling slightly but also trembling.
Brett was standing in the foyer, pretending to re-hang the painting. “You okay, Danni?”
She nodded. “Did you … hear?”
“Yeah. You were … amazing. I actually believed it that time.” He bit his lip, and looked guilty.
“Oh. Well. You helped.”
Brett shrugged. “You deserve better.”
“So do you,” she said, in earnest.
Well here we are again, he thought, dancing around this elephant.
“Why don’t we go get a coffee and catch up on Scrabble?”
She smiled. “And one of those chocolate pastry thingy’s?”
“You got it!” He said, laughing at her sudden enthusiasm.
“Just what the doctor ordered!”
“I’m not a doctor yet …” he laughed.
“Good thing I didn’t mean you, then!” She smiled and got her purse from the coat closet.
When they had their coffee and were settled into the corner with the scrabble box, she bit her lip, in that tell tale way that said “I have a confession …”
“Okay, out with it. If you’d rather play battleship, I’m up for that!” He gave her a way out, being polite.
“No, this is fine. I just wanted to say … I’ve been feeling the same way. That I’d rather be with you then …” she shrugged, the rest of the words weren’t forming properly. The narrator had run away. The author was letting the characters run the show.
“I’m glad you didn’t leave me hanging on that,” he teased her, but gently, his smile warm.
“You really couldn’t tell?”
He forced himself to keep his face even. “You mean you couldn’t tell? Why do you think Denise was so jealous of you?”
“Oh,” she blushed.
He stopped shaking the bag of tiles. “You really had no idea? None at all?”
She shrugged. “I always thought I was like a little sister to you and that’s why you are always so good to me.”
He shook his head. Unbelievable. “I have one hot little sister then,” he chuckled, then started shaking the bag again.
She blushed again, annoyed with herself and her pale Irish skin for betraying her so much.
“I think they’re shaken enough …” she said, changing the subject.
“What?”
“The tiles …”
“Oh! Right!” He thrust the bag at her as she bit her lip, stifling a smile. She took out her seven tiles and sighed.
“6 vowels! Really?!” She shook her head and tried to figure out where to start. It was his rule that she always had to start. Probably because he was going to win anyway, so he gave her that small bit of left over from childhood happiness. Meanwhile, the narrator was back, describing in exaggerated detail how perfect he looked in the soft coffee shop light. She sighed and placed “Ape” on the center of the board.
“That wasn’t a hint, was it?”
She laughed. “No, but it was the best I could do. And don’t say “Are you sure” and then steal my rack from me!” She possessively grabbed the tile bag and took out three more before he could do just that.
“Okay, okay. That’s … six?”
“Five.”
He chuckled. “Five it is …” he said, scratching that down in her column.
He took his tiles and spelled out “Bezoar” using her “e”.
She laughed. “Nice try, but that isn’t in the Scrabble dictionary …”
“it’s in the Wizard edition.”
“Okay fine, but only if I can play this!” She placed “ieber” next to his “b” for “Bieber”.
“Nooooo, heresy!”
“Bezoar!”
“But … Not Bieber …”
She stared him down.
“Okay, okay … Bieber for 14 … Nice double word score …”
She inclined her head, graciously. Thank you. It wasn’t one of her abilities, to match up double word or letter scores in Scrabble.
I know it's short but that isn't where this scene was going at all. So I'm off to finish it in my head while I catch up on "Monstrous Regiment".
COMMENT!
SO SAID THE DEE AND SO IT MUST BE!!!
(also, no, I do not own a scrabble board at the moment and no, i'm not going to look up letter point values right now. It doesn't matter. This is just a rough draft. Scrabble letter tile point values are things editors and Tim's worry about. Not Dee's. <3 )