If your just tuning in, I’m doing daily posts with passages from my novel, Pulled (which is still available for only .99!) And in case you blinked I WAS in the top 100 yesterday for paid kindle sales in Romance. Today, not so much. I was fun the whole twelve hours it lasted!
Today is part 3, hence the uber original title of the post. I know, I’m brilliant. If you missed parts 1 or 2, just scroll down. Read and share and comment if you care. That rhymed!
There is nothing unusual about how he enters the room, unless you notice his dark eyes glued to the floor, which I do.
I am instantly struck by how uncomfortable he seems to be. His shoulders are slumped so low that it looks like he’s trying to crawl inside his shirt. He grabs a seat in the front of the room, diagonally from where I sit, his left side facing the wall.
Needing something to do with my hands, I push up the sleeves of my deep plum v-neck. The dark color does nothing to hide my overt paleness, but I haven’t worn light colors since… well, a long time.
Several minutes pass and we remain the only two in the room. I feel like I should introduce myself, or at least say ‘hi,’ but there is something about the way he sits in his chair that makes me hold my tongue. It’s as though he’s willing himself to blend in with the room and not be noticed. I can respect that; I want the same thing.
Picking up my book again, I try to move my eyes back to the page, but no matter how hard I try, they disobey me. They stay transfixed to the back of his dark, curly hair; mesmerized.
Perhaps it’s because I have never seen someone with his exact coloring before. It isn’t tan. No, definitely not tan, but more, what, olive? Is he Asian? No. Middle-Eastern? Indian?
I want desperately for him to turn his head, just a little, so I can get a glimpse of this person from whom I can’t manage to pull my gaze. But he holds his focus on a book he’s drumming his thumb on. Curious to know what he’s reading, my eyes allow a quick move towards the cover. It looks familiar–really familiar. No way. He’s reading Romeo & Juliet too. I actually laugh out loud. No, laugh is too polite a word. I guffawed. His dark eyes turn over his shoulder, ever so slightly, to glare at me. The girl who is openly laughing at him. Shit.