Me Too: A Short Story

 She couldn’t stop laughing, not after the words that had just arbitrarily slipped from her mouth, and especially not with him laughing as well. 

It was an unfortunate nervous tick of hers–incessant laughter. She’d had it since she was a child. When she was nervous, she laughed. Scared. She laughed. Angry. She laughed. She even laughed when she as sad. Her round of giggles at her grandmother’s funeral had her ushered out of the wake and into the parking lot.

Sure, she laughed like most people, when most people laughed, but when she was undeniably embarrassed, she laughed non-stop with horrifying honks and snorts. She didn’t know if he was laughing with her, for nervous sake, or if her mortifying animal sounds were causing him to laugh at her.

But what if he was laughing out of pity, laughing because of what she’d said? The thought made her choke and pressed tears from her eyes. They tumbled down her cheeks into the chlorinated water between them. She pressed her eyes closed, too afraid to look at him anymore, even as red embarrassment crept up her neck and face.

She heard his laughter die, felt it really, and with the loss of its timber, she felt her stomach fall even more. As best she could, she suppressed the giggling that tickled her throat and covered her face with her hands. More tears pressed against the backs of her lids and for mercy’s sake, she prayed her palms would keep them hidden.

Her breath caught when she felt his fingers gently pulling against hers. She nearly fainted when she felt his lips claim hers with a sweetness that rivaled honey.

The tingle of his breath swirling in her ear caused her laughter to cease altogether and a smile to shape her lips.

“Me too,” he’d whispered. “I love you too.”

THE END

*I so enjoyed seeing this tale unfold. Romance, who doesn’t love the sweetness of love? These are my results for Monday’s Muse Writing Prompt April 2nd, 2018.

 

 

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Certainly Absolutely: Flash Fiction

This wasn’t like the last time he’d kissed her. This time, something about the play of his lips against hers had changed. The gentle ebb and flow between give and take made her toes curl in her ballet flats.

She placed her hands on his shoulders to keep herself balanced, lest she melt like a puddle of wax at his feet. The heady scent of his cologne and his masculinity mixed and mingled only to intoxicate her senses further.

Oh, but how this moment awakened her and frightened her with the same power.

The last time, the first time he’d kissed her, it was little more than a peck on the lips, accidental really. This time he’d slowly snaked his hands around her waist, gazed into her eyes with a mixture of confidence and uncertainty before pulling her into his embrace with his wordless question heard only by her lips.

Certainly. Absolutely. The words whispered without sound. She would love him…because she already did.

THE END

*Every now and again, touches of romance are required to sprinkle the pages of my creative journal. These are my results of MONDAY’S MUSE WRITING PROMPT FEBRUARY 26th, 2018.

~Dream. Imagine. Believe. Do. CONQUER! 

Monday’s Muse Writing Prompt: February 26th 2018

OPENING LINE (S): “This wasn’t like the last time he’d kissed her. This time, something about the play of his lips against hers had changed.”

RULES: 

  • Using the above line and the picture provided, (Or a line of your own choosing) create a story (or even a poem) within up to 20 minutes.
  • Once you have finished your super awesome masterpiece, add a link in the comments section of THIS POST to your story for others to read, as well as a link on your page back to this original post for others to follow along and write with as well. In your “tags” section, add the tag “Monday’s Muse.”
  • To get the Above Image follow this LINK

If you do not have a blog of your own, leave me a comment and send me an email to icameforthesoup@gmail.com and I will post your lovely words here on my blog.

(PLEASE KEEP ENTRIES THAT NEED TO BE POSTED ON THIS SITE WITHIN A PG13 RANGE. THANK YOU)

~Dream. Imagine. Believe. Do. CONQUER!

Bittersweet: A Short Story #Drama #Romance #MondaysMuse

She scrolled down the screen with her thumb and read the text again. It didn’t matter. She couldn’t change anything now but oh how she wished she could.

It had been nearly two years since she’d received the message and still those words caught up in a blue bubble managed to evoke the same response from her.

Sure, the outward expression had been dulled by familiarity and her obvious ability to recite the script by rote, but on the inside…on the inside she felt forgiveness.

Leander, David, had started the text with just her name, sending that one message alone before he continued with words that read as prose. He’d confessed that he loved her, still loved her, even though he had demanded a divorce and fought to estrange himself from her life…their life.

In his efforts, he had estranged himself from God as well but had blessedly found his road to repentance. More than anything, Leander was grateful for his renewed love for Jesus. She was humbled that she got to be part of that love.

David had requested that they meet, asked if he could swing by their old place. She’d told him no, not because she didn’t want to see him but because she wasn’t home. She’d actually just landed, her plane had come in from Arizona. It was an unsuccessful business trip. The clients had backed out of a multi-million dollar deal.

That failure had deflated her but seeing her prayers answered with David had given her a mighty and anxious boost. She wanted to see him. She asked him to pick her up from the airport.

He said he would. He had. But his heart had also stopped just moments after they’d engaged in an awkward but long overdue embrace.

He smiled down at her, eyes glassy. He managed to whisper he was sorry, that he’d been wrong. He told her that he loved her and had never stopped. She only just responded in turn when his face contorted and the strength of his arms around her yielded to weakness.

And then he was gone.

Leander pressed her eyes together and closed the text. Every day since she had played in her head all the scenarios that could have saved his life. But she wasn’t being realistic. She wasn’t superwoman. David’s condition was an anomaly. It was like a bullet shot in the dark that managed to hit a major target.

There was nothing she could have done. She couldn’t have loved him more. She was grateful that she’d at least loved him with forgiveness.

THE END

*Such a bittersweet tale. I enjoy the fact that I never quite know where these stories will go once I sit down to write them. Leander and David…bittersweet. These were my results for Monday’s Muse Writing Prompt August 28th, 2017.

~Dream. Imagine. Believe. Do. CONQUER!

A Delicate Touch: Micro-Fiction #Monday’sMuse #Romance #Fiction

Watching him took her breath away. It was strange how he was so out of place on that land, and yet, somehow, he fit. 

It shouldn’t have shocked her. Although he’d been a drifter all of his life, farming was in his blood, or as he had reluctantly shared with her, horses.

He’d moved to town, taking ownership of his great-uncle’s farm when her parents’ loan had defaulted and ownership reverted back to the Latfield’s next of kin. Sage Latefield was that man.

Without him having said so, Livia knew that her family’s loss had become the biggest break in Sage’s life. He seemed to light up whenever he looked over the land, ran his fingers over the swaying heads of grass as if he were touching precious children.

The man had a delicate touch. She didn’t know it personally but the more she watched him, the more she learned him, the more she wanted to.

THE INBETWEEN…

*I hope you enjoyed that little nugget of Livia’s thoughts toward Sage Latefield. I had to stop there as the story has done far more talking than I expected and has given me the synopsis for a full-length novel, or a decent sized novella. Either way, there is much more to their story than the 150 words or so, shared today. Thanks for reading my results for Mondays’ Muse Writing Prompt August 14th, 2017.

~Dream. Imagine. Believe. Do. CONQUER!

A Dish Called Denial: A Short Story #amwriting #comedy #RomCom

Is it wrong that I hope the knife slips and he cut off his fingertip? Sam is not a cook! He can’t even microwave a hot dog, yet for her, he seems to be making the extra effort.

I shouldn’t care. Sam isn’t my boyfriend, any more or at least at the moment. My boyfriend’s name is Earl, Earl H. Hemshawl, as he likes to introduce himself. I don’t know why he needs to give his full name. He said it had something to do with coming off more official-like or some foolishness like that. I don’t know.

Most of the time, for twelve days out of the thirteen that Earl and I have been an item, I haven’t even thought of us as being official. It’s a vicious cycle for me, one he has no clue about.

Earl doesn’t have a clue about many things. He’s just too nice to notice the mean in people and dang it I am mean! I think that is why Sam left me. He left me for her.

She is vile, I know.

They’ve been all googly-eyed for each other for three months now. It’s a phase. It’ll wear off soon enough and when it does I will be right here to pick him up and forgive him for his transgression. Make that, transgressions, as in plural.

I mean look at them. She’s got him playing the fool by the way he looks and acts. I mean he never looked at me like that nor did he do silly stuff like taking a cooking class! And why would he? Taste my roasted chicken and peach cobbler and you’ll understand.

Goodness! The world has gone to that dark, hot, place where that old sloop-foot devil dwells, by the way women can’t cook these days. I am certain half this class could burn water and that isn’t even possible. Blondy aka the temptress-formerly-called-Jezebel is one of them.

Clearly, her mama didn’t teach her a thing besides sniffing behind some other woman’s man.

Hold up a minute. Earl’s got tears in his eyes. This man is no good when it comes to onions.

TIMES UP SO THE END FOR NOW!

*I hope you enjoyed this little snippet of a full-length novel I have no choice but to write one day in the future. I think I will name the main character Ingrid…not sure of a surname yet but one will come in time. Anyhow these are my results for Monday’s Muse Writing Prompt July 31st, 2017.

~Dream. Imagine. Believe. Do. CONQUER!

Like Sunshine

The taste of his lips made her think of sunshine, the way it gently warmed her evoking a smile. The pleasure if it was new, his kiss, she’d never been kissed before, and yet this felt right.

He was right.

The wait for this moment, the diligent guarding of her heart had led her to feel like a lone soldier keeping vigil over the sacred, and this was sacred, the melodic play of his lips with hers.

The sense of blooming in her soul, called forth by such intimate waters, was meant to flourish into a garden where more life would grow. And it would grow with sweetness and hope.

And it all began with a precious kiss.

THE BEGINNING

~Dream. Imagine. Believe. Do. CONQUER!

 

As Sure as His Eyes Were Blue: A Poem #Monday’sMuse #Romance #Poetry

The warmth of his hand against hers warmed her far deeper than the coffee she held, and it was totally unexpected.

The blessed bliss, the memory of their first kiss, was instantly resurrected.

How touch and hold and glimpses from his eyes could turn the tide with truth, a truth so deep, of love so sweet, and as sure as his eyes were blue.

She dared not move, nor even breath, though the need pressed against her lungs.

The smile he gave was what she’d craved assuring her new things had begun.

THE END

*Creativity is a funny thing. This began as a short and wove its way into poetry. These are my results for Monday’s Muse June 19th, 2017

~Dream. Imagine. Believe. Do. CONQUER!

Like Licorice: Micro Fiction #Monday’sMuse #AmWriting #Romance

He kissed her. Her mouth tasted like licorice, the cherry kind. It was far more tolerable than the black. The kiss was beyond tolerable.

That was the part that scared him the most.

Trying to pause the moment, he held on to her fingers and refused to let them go. It wasn’t as if she were trying to free herself. That would have made an already delicious and yet seemingly awkward moment far worse.

She was like a sister to him! They hadn’t quite grown up together being separated by a mere four years. But they had spent a lot of time together since he was friends with her older sister.

He blew out a breath and thanked the Lord he’d never dated either of them. Jules was still in the sister-friend zone, but Laney . . .

He loosened his grip on her fingers but still kept her in lingering touch. He studied her face, watched as her dark lashes fanned across the curves of her upper cheeks.

He wondered what she was thinking. He wished he could read her mind.

He wanted to kiss her again. He smiled when she looked him in the eye and kissed him the second time.

THE END

*These are my results for Monday’s Muse Writing Prompt May 29th, 2017. 

~Dream. Imagine. Believe. Do. CONQUER!

A Golden Confession: A Short Story #ShortStory #AmWriting #Fiction

He sat his cup down and pressed his lips together in a hard line. She didn’t know if his expression was due to the bitterness of the brew or what she’d just said.

“I’m sorry!” she spat out. “I shouldn’t have said anything,” she tried to press the burn of embarrassment from her cheeks with her trembling hands that had grown surprisingly cold despite the heat of the cup she’d been gripping as if it were a lifeline.

She’d clearly not gripped tight enough. She felt as if she were on the verge of death, dying of utter humiliation. Worse, it was her own doing. Why had she never learned to keep her mouth shut? At least she had already put in her resignation.

Hazel eyes, that normally shown with flecks of gold, green, and brown simmered like deep emeralds. He stared at her, seeming to not blink, his lips slowly drawing from stiffness to softness, but his eyes continued to blaze.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Gold,” she apologized again. “You see? This is why … this is why in need to quit,”

She clumsily began to rise only to be startled by the strength of his hand drawing her back down to her seat. He held her fingers between his, this time, his eyes pressing closed.

Sick. Her confession had obviously made him sick.

“I’m not sick, Jericka,” an unfamiliar chuckle danced around his words. In truth, it wasn’t so unfamiliar, he’d just never laughed with her. It would have been the most pleasant thing, sitting there, holding her boss’s hand, him chuckling with mirth had his laughter not been induced by a statement she thought she’d said in her mind but had unfortunately voiced.

She was going to be sick.

“Oh, goodness,”

“I’m stunned, more so relieved, actually.” He rushed to finish his statement, positioning his hand around hers in a way that was more an embrace and less capture by force.

Jericka stared down at their union and then back up at Mr. Gold, Preston, she always referred to him as Preston in her thoughts.

Clearing his throat brought her eyes back to his face. His eyes still simmered that vibrant emerald but his lips were smiling.

Closing his other hand around hers, he said, “I am glad you said something, even if I am a bit ashamed that you were the one to go first.”

“You-you were going to say something to me?”

He nodded and suddenly looked very boyish.

“I thought,”

“I was going to fire you? No,”

She wanted to sink that wasn’t what she was thinking at all.

“I certainly wasn’t going to ask you to resign.” He pulled his hands away from hers and looked as if he regretted the break in connection. Jericka knew she did.

“To be honest,” he continued, “I didn’t know what was going to happen once I said something. I still don’t. I do know I don’t want you to quit. I’ve tried to distance myself as much as possible to keep things from being awkward. I tried. Failed. But I’m not complaining.”

“Especially now that I have accepted a different job, it won’t be awkward anymore.” She couldn’t keep staring at him. He’d known how she felt all along, tried not to encourage her, and had even invited her to coffee to address it.

“Especially now.”

She flinched as if struck.

“I mean, it would be inappropriate to ask you to come to dinner with me otherwise. I mean, no, I hate that you’ve already decided to leave the company, but at least we are here … now, having coffee and I think that is a good start.” He gave her a smile that almost made her melt.

It was only then that his words registered. Clearly, they had been coming at her like a jumbled text message sent out of order. First message, ‘I was going to say something before you.’ Second text, ‘I agree with you.’ Third text, and definitely her favorite, ‘I like you. Would you like to have dinner with me?’

“Yes, Mr. Gold,” she managed to say, her demeanor shifting from cloudy to blue skies.

Preston smiled so widely that crinkle lines spread from the corners of his eyes. “Excellent,” he took a sip of his coffee before leaning forward. “And how about just calling me Preston.”

THE END

*A little light-hearted romance is always a pleasant surprise. These are my results for Monday’s Muse May 15th, 2017.

~Dream. Imagine. Believe. Do. CONQUER!