For the first time in a long time I want to do more than just graze my lips against another shoulder.
I can’t though.
While she is technically not a holiday maker and therefore hasn’t fallen in my ‘Not to be Approached’ criteria, I know she is not staying. And if she is not staying I know we will never do more than walk down a beach holding hands. I don’t do goodbyes of any description.
Last night as we sat on the moonlight flooded beach we told each other everything, but at the same time nothing. She is eighteen, to my twenty. Her family have moved here so her sister can have a life not in the middle of London.
The girl who looks like she is made of the sun is leaving in two weeks to go to university. But that’s not all I found out. Without knowing it, she hinted at all the stuff she doesn’t want anyone to know. As we sat on the dark sand I found all the answers to the things she wasn’t telling me. They were hiding in every moment of silence that hung between us in the night air. She is lonely, frustrated, confused, all of these things and something else. There is something else there. It’s in the way she holds her body, and it’s in the way her fingers absentmindedly graze over the bangles adorning her wrists.
Something, or someone.
Something that she thinks defines her. She does not want anyone to know it. She does not want me to know it. And to be honest I’m not sure if I want to know either. Well at least I thought I didn’t until we reached her gate last night, and instead of giving her a good bye wave I stepped right into her space, holding myself back from kissing her and asked instead if she would like a surf lesson.
Anna Bloom is a contemporary romance writer with the sole writing ambition of writing about life as it happens. Dedicated to real characters, real problems and real romance Anna writes tales to stir your heart and head. Combining a busy schedule of looking after two young children, working in a local school and writing swoon worthy romance for Mature Teen readers, she also spends a lot of time imagining kissing hot guys and talking to the voices in her head- all in the name of her art.I can’t though.
While she is technically not a holiday maker and therefore hasn’t fallen in my ‘Not to be Approached’ criteria, I know she is not staying. And if she is not staying I know we will never do more than walk down a beach holding hands. I don’t do goodbyes of any description.
Last night as we sat on the moonlight flooded beach we told each other everything, but at the same time nothing. She is eighteen, to my twenty. Her family have moved here so her sister can have a life not in the middle of London.
The girl who looks like she is made of the sun is leaving in two weeks to go to university. But that’s not all I found out. Without knowing it, she hinted at all the stuff she doesn’t want anyone to know. As we sat on the dark sand I found all the answers to the things she wasn’t telling me. They were hiding in every moment of silence that hung between us in the night air. She is lonely, frustrated, confused, all of these things and something else. There is something else there. It’s in the way she holds her body, and it’s in the way her fingers absentmindedly graze over the bangles adorning her wrists.
Something, or someone.
Something that she thinks defines her. She does not want anyone to know it. She does not want me to know it. And to be honest I’m not sure if I want to know either. Well at least I thought I didn’t until we reached her gate last night, and instead of giving her a good bye wave I stepped right into her space, holding myself back from kissing her and asked instead if she would like a surf lesson.
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Great excerpt, thank you.
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I love how the book sounds.
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The cover was so beautiful and the giveaway was a nice touch.
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Jeanette G.