It’s SUNDAY! And I think I’m finally back on track after a harrowing and busy few weeks. Today’s snip comes from my in progress romantic (fanfiction) serial, A Thin Line, the story of a boy and girl that used to love each other, but now despise each other. They say there’s a thin line between love and hate– what are the chances they could love each other again?
You can read this story in its most completed state here.
As I’m setting the table, I hear the security system beep and the click of men’s shoes on Spanish tile. I look up to see JC standing in the opening between the house and the patio, dressed like he’s put in a long day at the office-suit, tie, dress shoes. His jacket is off, flung over his shoulder and hanging from the crook of a finger. His shirt, even at 6pm, is wrinkle free, like he just put it on. His slacks, pressed with a crease so sharp you could cut yourself, are the flat front style that he likes. He says they show off his package the best.
The first time I actually heard those words come out of his mouth, I rolled my eyes so hard I had a headache later.
They do look good on him, though. For a millisecond, my body goes back in time and drudges up a response to seeing him that I haven’t felt in so long I almost don’t recognize it. My face feels hot; I’m sure my cheeks are nice and red. My heartbeat quickens and my nipples stand at attention.
Fuck, girl. You need to get laid. Get a hold of yourself. It’s just JC.
“Hey,” I mutter, trying to mask my dry throat and heaving chest. I seem to not be able to breathe, for some reason. “Almost done.”
I set the last few spots with silverware and glasses and step back, surveying my work. I’m pleased. It’s classy and alluring and it will be nice to eat outside with the lake as a backdrop and the setting sun creating beautiful ambiance.
“I could get used to this,” JC says, stepping out of the house. “Coming home to a pretty lady setting out a nice meal, I mean.” He circles the table, inspecting. My jaw clenches and I think that if he adjusts anything, I will stab him with the knife I set out to slice the beef.
His life is spared, however. He doesn’t touch a thing. Instead, he turns to me and says, “This will be fun. I need to run up and change. I put some wine in the chiller this morning. Would you grab a red and a white? Doesn’t matter what year. We should let it breathe.”
He turns on his heel and walks back into the house. Only when I can’t hear his feet on the steps anymore do I move to grab the wine.
It’s great that we’re getting along, but…nice JC is freaking me the fuck out.