If you're new here, I apologize for the really lame "inside joke" but Nyrae and I are on each other's blogs a LOT.
So. She wrote this HILarious romantic comedy called Dizzy, with...oh...crap...give me a minute...I'll think of her co-author... Oh. Yeah. ME!
( I just realized that I'm going to sound really egotistical b/c I called a book I wrote hilarious, but seriosuly, the funny parts are all Nyrae - she's way funnier than me)
This book was my FIRST ever collaboration, and Nyrae and I said ALL the time that there was no way for that collab to have gone better. We've written another one since then that's slated to come out with Entangled Publishing Fall 2013. (Misplaced, which I did under the name Mia Josephs) To see that book, you can check it out on goodreads HERE.
To add DIZZY to your goodreads pile, go HERE.
Seriously, Nyrae is the BEST kind of writerly friend. She's just as awesome as her books paint her to be.
If you live under a rock, and aren't sure what she's written, I'll toss up some covers - aren't they preetty?
You can find Nyrae on her blog at www.nyraedawn.blogspot.com
SO!! There's another fun Friend Friday!!
Hope y'all have a FAB WEEKEND!!!!!!!
I'm going to write up my first chapter below, but my FIRST chapter, is the SECOND chapter of the book, so you might wanna head to Nyrae's blog first, especially because we broke the first chapter in the middle of a -
And we haven't yet done final edits, so don't give me any crap over typos ;-O
How do I even answer that question?
He’s standing with a plastic cup full of beer, and his arm draped around some girl. It’s such a possessive way to hold someone. Like, your body is pressed against me, making me feel all desirable, and I’m using you for an armrest. Nice.
He actually takes a drink while his arm is still resting on her shoulders, and while he’s still staring at me.
Wow, he has totally straight, white teeth. And nice hair. Touchable black hair, all messy, but still perfect. Then I let my eyes fall down. God. Of course. He probably spent more than two hundred dollars on his stupid jeans. It’s probably his dumb party. And his freaking mansion.
He’s still staring.
I must be scowling.
The girl under his arm gives me a once over and looks away. Right. I’m no competition ‘cause my jeans aren’t two sizes too small. Whatever.
“Someone said there were sodas over here? Fridge maybe?” I reach toward the handle.
“Don’t touch that.” He almost, almost lets go of the girl with the skin-tight jeans, but not quite. Where would he put his arm?
I hold my hands up. “Fine, whatever.” Guess he’s anal about his fridge.
“On the porch,” he says from behind me.
I don’t look back—just wave to say thanks, and head for the glass door. When I step outside I can finally breathe. It’s like as soon as I get into a huge group of people like this, I don’t know where to put my hands. These aren’t my people. My people are with my boyfriend, James, in a biology lab across town. Not in overpriced, over-tight jeans, getting wasted.
“I can’t believe I got talked into this,” I say under my breath. It’s just not my thing. It normally isn’t James’ thing either. He just heard about it from his cousin. Then my friend Alyssa got all excited, and they begged me to come. But is he here? Nope. Not yet. Oh. And also not answering my texts.
James and I have been dating for over a year. Since the beginning of junior year. It’s hard because I didn’t see him much over the summer, and since school started again, he’s been busy. I love that he’s so driven, but it’s also hard. We’re into all the same things, and we’re both headed to med school so I get it, but I also miss having him around.
I stop and scan the porch for coolers. Oh, perfect. There’s a couple making out on the corner of the deck. Who thinks that the back porch, even if it’s the size of a basketball court, is the perfect place to make out? I’m sure there are like twenty rooms to choose from upstairs.
When I find the thing, I step over and pull open the lid—thankful it’s not next to the desperate couple. Tequila, Vodka, Rum. Of course.
Why am I here?
It’s a Halloween party that forbids costumes. Not that I’d really want to dress up, but who does that? When I said that to James, he said it’s also a back to school party. So these people do Halloween with no costumes and back to school parties two months late? I’m pretty sure they’re psychotic.
I should be home studying. Senior year. It’s important. Senior grades are a big mark for university applications. My AP classes will actually be college credits. I don’t see how jumping around in someone’s house to good music—even though it’s being played way too loud—and getting hammered is a good way to celebrate that, but whatever.
But James is coming, so that should make it worthwhile. We haven’t seen much of each other since school started.
“Hey!” Alyssa jumps on my back as she comes outside. She already reeks like whatever she’s been drinking. We’ve only been here a half hour.
We’ve been best friends for like, ever, but sometimes I just don’t get her.
“Can you believe this place?” Her bright blue eye shadow looks amazing on her with her brown eyes and short, dark hair. I’m wearing mascara and lip-gloss. I feel all goopy when I put on more than that. And, I have no idea what I’m doing and would probably just end up looking like some kind of street-walker, only in jeans and comfortable shoes.
She looks like she belongs here. I do not. This is not a white T-shirt and worn jeans kind of party. Too late now, and even if it wasn’t too late, I have no idea how to look like Alyssa or almost every other girl in this place.
“It’s pretty amazing.” I have to yell even though she’s right next to me. And amazing doesn’t even begin to cover this house. It’s unreal. Like, I can’t believe only one family lives here.
“Where’s your old man?” she yells.
She calls James my old man boyfriend for no real reason. Well, okay, for kind of a reason. He wears old man shoes to school with his jeans, and James and I are comfortable with each other. I don’t feel the need to suck his face off in public like the couple on the porch.
“His internship carried over from last summer, remember? And they went late.” I’m trying to be supportive and not be mad that he didn’t drive us here like he promised. I had to drive my mom’s Subaru in two-tone five-year-old color scheme, which Alyssa hates.
Anyway, Mom’s car has the GPS. We still managed to get lost, still managed to be late, and James still isn’t here.
My phone vibrates.
JAMES: ALMOST THERE.
My chest relaxes in relief.
“Okay, well, I’m headed back in. There’s like, a practical arcade in the basement. I’m going to go down and play pool.”
I point to her chest, which is already half out of her shirt.
She shrugs. “I’m wearing a bra. One more drink and I won’t care what shows when I lean over the table.” She smirks and heads back inside. Right. No way she cares now. She’s placing her feet way too carefully, which means she’s thinking about where her feet need to be. Which means she’s had more to drink than she lets on.
Now what? I can’t stand out here forever, right? And it’s not like I’m alone either, my eyes shift to the couple in the corner. Who knows what’ll happen between them next. Dissecting cats is one thing, watching people grope each other is just gross.
I spin around to go back inside and run into someone. I’m soaked.
“Watch it!” I start wiping the front of my shirt. Beer, of course.
His hand reaches out toward my chest. I knock it away. “Don’t touch me!” And then as I look up, I’m left speechless. His blue eyes are amazing, unreal, electric. It hits me in the pit of my stomach.
“Shit, I’m sorry. I was just coming out to show you where the soda is...” He leans closer to me as he talks, and I should totally be moving away, but I’m not.
I open my mouth to speak, but I can’t. He’s hot. Like, rich boy mixed with hand-picked genetics or something. Muscular without being huge. I can’t take in a deep breath. But then I do and he smells... amazing. Like boy, but good. I’m seriously dizzy, just from standing close to this guy. Must be some expensive cologne. Wait. We’re standing way too close.
Oh no. Rock in my stomach. I know him. “Oh, right. You’re the guy who uses a girl for an armrest.” I scowl.
“Chastity is not an armrest. She’s...”
“Fine. A decorative armrest.” Decorated like skank. Yes, I’m feeling this mean. “And I bet her name is a lesson in irony.” I start to push past him into the house.
“What the hell? I came out here to be nice.”
“By spilling your beer all over my shirt?” I yell behind me. And I know I’m being kind of bitchy, but this whole party situation has me on edge.
“I’ll...uh...buy you a new one?” He follows me into the house.
Why does he have to sound so clueless? Snobby?
“It’s not about money. It’s about you ruining my shirt!” I spin toward him.
His face is blank. “Umm, it’s just a white T-shirt.”
Thank you for that obvious statement.
My head spins to see James. Relief. James also looks like he doesn’t belong here. He looks like he just stepped out of a lab in his old jeans and a university t-shirt. He scratches his neatly trimmed blond hair (something he always does), and his light brown eyes are on me. I don’t look back, don’t stop, just run up to meet him. I start to throw my arms around him in gratitude that he’s finally here.
“Whoa...” He puts his hand up between us. “I don’t want that all over me. What happened to you?” He’s yelling because there’s no other way to talk with this much noise.
I look down and catch sight of his brown, comfy leather slip-on shoes. Alyssa’s right. They’re totally old-man shoes. Funny. Oh, he asked me a question. “Some jerk spilled his beer on me.”
My phone buzzes.
Alyssa: I DON’T FEEL SO HOT. WHEN R WE LVING?
I frown and flash James my phone, pretending to be annoyed instead of relieved that we’re going to have to go. And already? That girl has a talent for getting too wasted, too fast.
“Well, so much for the party. I’ve always wanted to come inside. Pretty amazing, isn’t it?” He leans toward me a little. We’re standing close, just a few more inches. I almost close the gap and put our lips together because now that I’m thinking about it, I’m not sure when we last kissed. Instead of kissing, he leans toward my ear to yell again.
“Wanna take off?” he shouts. “We should probably get Alyssa home.”
“And maybe I’ll drop by and see Mom.” My mom owns a great, funky restaurant in an up and coming area in downtown Portland. She’s there all the time, and loves it when I stop in late. Her normal nights get her home at just after one on a weekend, sometimes two. “Wanna come?” I put my mouth close to his ear so he can hear me. He smells like lab. All antiseptic and not like... Oh-kay. Not going to think about the hot guy in two hundred dollar jeans. Not when I have James right here, and so close.
“Why don’t I take Alyssa home so you don’t have to backtrack? It seems silly to take two cars all the way back home and then another car back into downtown to your mom’s place,” he yells. “Besides, I don’t really want to smell like restaurant and bar.”
Because antiseptic is so awesome. I sigh and my chest sinks. “I haven’t seen you.”
He gives me this half-smile like I’m being silly. “I’ll see you tomorrow afternoon. No big deal.” He shrugs and steps back.
And suddenly I wouldn’t mind if James put his arm around me like I was his armrest. Just to be possessive. Just to make me feel like he wanted to be close to me. And then his hand closes over mine and we walk to the door holding hands. Only our fingers aren’t even laced together.
Alyssa’s sitting on the front porch when we step outside, frowning, and looking…well, wasted.
James drops my hand as we step outside.
Alyssa groans, and rests her face on her knees. She and I are in all the same AP classes, and I swear she’s smarter than me, but has to do stupid crap like this. The girl just doesn’t know when to stop drinking.
“I’ll take you home.” James reaches out and half carries her toward his car. I don’t know how he got a parking spot actually in the driveway. I’m almost a block down the street.
I glance back into the party and catch rich-boy with his armrest back in place. I can barely see him through the people wandering around between the front door and the kitchen.
He starts to tip his cup again when our eyes meet, and he freezes. It hits me just like before, in my stomach, this knot of nervous tingles. Even from way out here.
The armrest looks up at him. He’s still looking at me, and her head starts to turn my way. That’s my cue to move.
What was that? Why did I have to look back at some spoiled, beer-spilling man-whore? I’m sure he is. I mean, who else dates someone like Chastity? She looked like she was about to audition for a music video. I suck in a breath and almost wish I’d been drinking so I could play off my reaction to him. And my general meanness toward everyone in the room.
“So, I’ll see you tomorrow?” James asks.
I jog to his side of the car and stand close, but not so close that I get beer on his shirt. Instead of pressing us together, I touch his stomach through his t-shirt hoping for anything from him.
He gives me a peck. “Tell your Mom I said hi.”
“Yep.” I stay close. I’m looking for something more. Some feeling in my chest or in my gut that wants to keep me here, make us closer. Or even something from him, a touch or a look, something that shows he can’t get enough of me.
Instead he stands, watching me with the same relaxed smiles he always wears. I duck my head into the car. I’m being silly.
“I’m not ditching you, am I?” I ask Alyssa.
Her eyes are closed and her face is pressed against the window. “Nah...” She gestures loosely with her hand. “Your old man will get me home...” Her arm tucks back into her front. She’s done moving.
I stand back up next to James. “You need to take her in the back door...”
“I got it.” Then to Alyssa, “Watch my upholstery.”
“Love you, James.” Give me something to hold on here.
“Yeah. Love you, too.” He slides in the driver’s seat, closes the door, and drives away. I’ve barely seen him all week, and he’s gone. Just like that.
I don’t move. I watch him drive off, kind of wishing for something between James and I that just isn’t here. Some crazy spark, something, anything... But that’s not really what we’re about. We’re comfortable. It’s nice to be comfortable. But if it’s so nice, why does my chest feel heavy? Now I just want to go to Mom’s restaurant and stuff my face. But first I need to dig through her car and see if I can find a shirt that isn’t soaked in beer.