Previously....
I posted a chapter from something I'm working on right now. In honor of a little writing spurt I had last week...and because I'm reading a non-fiction book right now and it takes me a lot longer to read nonfiction...here's another chapter from the same novel. This is a flashback to when the two characters George and Rosalee were young, the summer they met.
George and I had been
hanging out for almost three weeks. The waitresses were starting to wink at me
every time we came into the diner for coffee. Neither of them ever asked what
we wanted anymore. Coffee for both of us, whatever fruit pie was on special for
me and whatever cream pie was on special for George. We’d spent a couple of
afternoons listening to records at my house – with the bedroom door open, and
the boys running past the door ever few minutes or so. Probably under orders
from mom. We’d talked on the phone at least every other night. I could tell
George was bored, but I think he was also enjoying my company too. There were
other girls to be bored with, and he didn’t seem too interested in making a lot
of friends in town.
I’d just gotten home from
babysitting, and was flipping through a magazine, laying on the floor in front
of a fan, trying to cool off from a few hours of playing outside. I heard a
knock on the door and contemplated just ignoring it, figuring it was the mail
man with a package or a salesman or Jehovah’s Witness. But, I got up anyway.
Mama would be horrified if I was home and didn’t answer the door.
I was glad I did.
“George!” I said, a smile
forming on my face. “What’s up? Why aren’t you at work?”
He leaned against the door jam
and his smile showed off his dimple. “Uncle Jim kept talking about the great
swimming hole around here today, and I told him it was cruel and unusual
punishment to keep talking about it on such a hot day, and not letting a guy
experience it for himself. It was a persuasive argument.”
I smiled back. “You are
pretty persuasive.”
He reached out and lightly
took my hand. “So, I’m betting you know some good places to swim,” he said.
“You want to show a guy around, or do I need to use my persuasive powers on you
too?”
Not
likely, I thought. But I tried to play it
a little cool.
“Nothing to do right now,” I
said, only slightly distracted by his hand still holding mine. “And you’re
right about it being crazy hot.”
“Well, then,” he said, still
smiling. “I’ve got shorts in the car. How much time do you need?”
I grinned, squeezed his hand
and started backing up. “You know where the downstairs bathroom is. I’ll be
five minutes,” I said. “And I’ve got a cold coke in the fridge I was saving for
later. First one to the car gets it.”
The words were barely out of
my mouth and I was running up the stairs. I heard George laugh and his feet
thunder down the porch steps. I couldn’t keep the grin off my face. Running
into my room, I threw open the top drawer of my dresser and unearthed my swim
suit, a plain dark blue bikini that Betty talked me into getting on sale at the
department store last time we went into Springfield. I ripped off my clothes
and tugged on the suit, thankful that the top was a halter style and I didn’t
have to mess with tying fussy strings. I pulled on the cut-off shorts I’d just
taken off and ran across the hall into the bathroom, grabbing a towel. My
sunglasses and sunscreen were in my bag, sitting down by the front door from
babysitting. I raced down the stairs, trying to think if I needed anything
else.
I got to the bottom of the
stairs just as George was walking out of the kitchen with the coke in his
hands.
“Confident, are we?” I
asked.
He smirked and glanced
between me and the front door. I lunged for my bag and my keys and George
lunged for me, his arm wrapping around my waist and swinging me away from the
door. I squealed.
“No fair!” I gasped. “I’ve
got to lock the front door!”
We were both laughing hard
as he set me down on the front porch, his arm still firmly around my waist.
“This truce only lasts long
enough for you to lock the door.”
I was still laughing as I
fumbled with the key, but eventually we heard the deadbolt click into place.
The skin on my waist suddenly felt a rush of hot air, and I turned, leaping off
the porch after George. I was seconds behind him, and threw myself into his
side, and knocking him off balance just enough to make my lunge for his car
count. My fingers brushed the hot metal and I turned, triumphant, to find
George standing very close, his face still creased in a smile and his eyes
crinkled from laughter. We were both sweaty and breathing hard.
“You, Rosalee, are one of a
kind,” he said. He held up the bottle of coke between us, then rested the cold
glass against my neck. I shivered.
“I have to say, I kind of
figured this was mine. But you earned it,” he said.
“You’ve met my brothers,
right?” I said. “They are their own full-contact sport.” I reached up and
wrapped my hand around the bottle, my fingers overlapping slightly with his.
“If you’re nice, I’ll
share,” I said.
“I’m always nice,” he
replied. He let go of the bottle and reached around me, unlocking the passenger
door of the car so I could get in. My body was trapped in the space between his
and the car, his eyes never left my face as he turned the key. I found myself
staring at his mouth. He winked, I blushed, and he was walking to the driver’s
side. I stood frozen for a second, then shook my head and climbed in. I set the
bottle in the cup holder, stuffed my towel in my bag, and set the bag on the
floorboard, then picked up the coke and twisted off the cap as the engine
roared to life.
“Which way?” George asked,
looking at me with another smile, this one sweet and friendly.
“Left at the end of the
driveway,” I replied, taking a long drink. The pop was cold and fizzy and sweet
and pretty darn delicious. I pulled it away from my lips and offered the bottle
to George.
He raised an eyebrow.
“Sure?”
“Yep. Take it. It hits the
spot.”
We were quiet on the drive,
passing the coke back and forth while I gave him directions. In ten minutes we
were on the bumpy gravel road that led to the spring. The trees along the road
made shadowy patches on my bare legs and arms as it filtered through the trees
that occasionally brushed along the side of the car. It was only two miles, but
you had to take them slow. I didn’t mind though. We’d left the radio off, and I
just enjoyed the peace. The sounds of the birds and squirrels, the crunch and
hum of the car, the warm breeze blowing my hair. By the time we’d gone the two
miles and pulled into the clearing, it felt like we’d entered into the remotest
pocket of the world. George parked the car and turned it off. We gazed for a
moment at the spring-fed pool. The grass sloped slightly down to the water on
our side. To the right, some huge rocks under a big oak tree made a perfect
diving board and rope swing platform. Trees and undergrowth crowded around the
water, except for the narrow stream that rushed off toward our left. I loved
this place.
“Does it feel as great as it
looks?” George asked, turning toward me.
“Better.”
We opened our doors and
walked toward the water. I kicked off my sandals and set down my bag. George
shoved off his own shoes and pulled his t-shirt off over his head, and I have
to admit I took advantage of the few seconds in which his face was covered by
the shirt to admire his lean muscles. I turned away, and reached down to slip
off my shorts, although I hesitated, aware of George right next to me and
suddenly feeling a little shy.
Don’t be silly, I scolded
myself. You go swimming with boys all the time. I quickly dropped my shorts,
pulled off my t-shirt and ran toward the big jumping rock. I could hear George
laughing behind me, but I didn’t slow down or turn around. I jumped up on the
rock and without slowing down ran off the edge, tucking my knees up to my chest
and closing my eyes just before hitting the deliciously cool water. I let
myself sink, enjoying the refreshing water, the peacefulness, the
weightlessness – before kicking my legs and reaching my hands toward the
surface. I broke through the water, tilting my face up slightly so the water
would push my hair way from my face.
When I opened my eyes I
glanced around for George, and found him standing on top of the rock, grinning
at me.
“Well, what are you waiting
for,” I said as I treaded water.
“Didn’t want to accidentally
land on top of you,” he replied as he grabbed the rope. He walked backwards
until there was no more slack in the rope, then bounded across the rock. As his
feet left the ground he let out a whoop, sailing almost all the way across the
creek. He hung on to the rope as it hit its peak, then just as he started to
swing back toward the rock he let go. I laughed at his gigantic splash, and
turned my head away from the spray instinctively. A moment later, George’s head
popped up so close to my own that I jumped, startled at how quickly he’d swam
through the water.
“Boo,” he said.
I laughed and smacked his shoulder.
“Smart-aleck.”
He grinned. Surrounded by
the blue sky and blue water, his eyes were brilliant, deep and mesmerizing. His
shaggy hair was plastered to his forehead, dripping water down his cheeks. A
few pieces of hair clung to his cheekbone. I wanted to reach out and push the
hair off his face. The thought made my insides flutter. I wasn’t experienced
with boys at all, but I knew that a gesture like that would be a statement of
some kind, a silent acknowledgement that maybe I was open to something more
than friendship. But I thought maybe I was okay with saying that.
My fingers softly – but with
no hesitation – skimmed the top of George’s cheekbone, carrying the wet hair
off his face. I let my fingers run through his hair, my hand coming to rest on
his shoulder for a moment before slipping off into the water again.
Uncertainty hit me
belatedly, and I opened my mouth to fill the silence with something funny. But
before any words emerged George’s rough hand slid around my bare waist, the
other hand cupping the back of my head, tangling in my own wet hair. And then
he kissed me.
My insides melted and my
skin sizzled. His lips were soft, but firm, asking questions that my own mouth
answered enthusiastically. I stopped thinking and became a mass of sensations.
The gentle pressure of George’s hands…the feel of hot skin and cold water and
sunshine on my back…the cinnamon taste of his mouth. I wrapped my arms around
his neck and his hand on my waist became an arm wrapped around me, our bodies
pressing into each other.
When George eventually
pulled back, I opened my eyes to see his blue ones still inches away from me,
their corners crinkled slightly in a smile. I moved my arms and tried to pull
away, the rational part of my brain slowly waking up and wondering what in the
world had just happened, but George’s arm remained firmly wrapped around my
waist.
“Well,” he said.
“Well,” I replied.
As I searched for something
not stupid to say, George’s head suddenly dipped slightly, and the arm not
wrapped around me snaked behind my knees. I yelped as he scooped me up, then
squealed as I found myself launched out of the water. I landed in the water with
a splash and emerged laughing.
“Oh, it’s on now.”
Magic Bites is the first book in an urban fantasy series in which magic has reasserted itself in the world, pushing technology to a place of little importance. A world in which man's industrial and technological achievements crumble uselessly, in which creatures that go bump in the night are just a matter of fact. 
Okay, this is a bit of a departure from the books I normally talk about on here, but it's a book I've been reading quite a bit of lately. It was a gift from a dear friend (her toddler's favorite), it's the first book the Munchkin has really shown a preference for, and I have to say I like it a lot myself. It's just a really cute book.