Short Story: Summer lover, where’d you go?

It was hot the day we met. You had a thin line of sweat above your brow, and I remember thinking you tasted like the ocean when we kissed.

One too many margaritas under the sun is what happened.

You were riding your board along the shallow surface of the water close to shore, and I was lounging under an umbrella because I didn’t want to risk frying in the sun. I remember seeing you fall – that’s when you caught my eye. You went crashing into the sand, rolling, and then you hopped back up with a broad smile on your face as your friends laughed and jeered.

You shook it off, sticking your surfboard nose-first into the sand at a sharp angle, then floating over to the nearest drink shack.

That’s when I got hit with the volleyball.

I cursed loudly, sitting upright and rubbing the top of the head where it’d smacked me. I remember feeling dizzy, but my greatest concern was that I’d spilt my drink all over myself. The guy who came to get his ball didn’t even apologize, and I was glaring at him as I cleaned myself up. I didn’t even see you walk over.

“Here you go,” you said, extending your arm towards me with an oversized margarita in hand.

I’d been drinking mojitos, and I was pretty sure what you were offering me would give me a brain freeze that would amplify my already aching head.

I tried to wave you off, but you sat down in the sand, drinking from one margarita while you held the other, keeping it ready for me, though you didn’t pester or insist.

I asked your name and you said Josh. Of course, it would be Josh. You were like a walking cliché – chiseled abs, golden hair, bronzed skin, and shockingly straight, pearly teeth that went well with your dimples when you smiled.

I told you my name was Amanda, but it wasn’t. You decided to call me Holly instead, and I liked that you thought I looked like a Holly. I liked that you knew by the way I said Amanda that it wasn’t my name.

I liked you.

We stayed at the beach all day, and I remember being surprised that the sky was getting darker – and even more surprised that we were surrounded by empty cups that, at one point, held a variety of margaritas. We tried every flavor.

You had talked someone into sharing some steak kabobs with us earlier, but I remember feeling hungry then. Famished, actually. You asked me if I wanted to find some cheeseburgers somewhere – that your car wasn’t far.

You were so gloriously beautiful with the wonderful topic of food leaving your lips, and I suddenly found my face very close to yours. I’m sure I’m an expert at timing, but it was nice, nonetheless, that you didn’t flinch away when I smooshed my lips against yours.

You laughed a little, telling me I was tipsy even though you hadn’t moved your lips from mine. Your lips felt rough, like you were dehydrated, and I remember thinking I wanted to lay in the sand and kiss you, so everything felt rough like that.

But then you hoisted me to my feet, helped me gather my things, and lugged our stuff to your car. Your friends were leaving too, and you called to them to grab your board, eliciting more jeers when they saw you were with a girl.

You asked me if I had a phone – whether I wanted to call someone – and I sent a text to my roommate. You opened the passenger door for me, and I slinked towards the seat, but I was worried about the sand.

You came up behind me then, subtle and sweet, and you curled an arm around my waist. “It’s okay,” you murmured into my ear. “I’ll clean it later.” You tossed a towel across the seat anyways to make me feel better, and I turned and kissed you again.

This time you let me. Your breath was like warm strawberries as your lips parted, and you leaned me back against the car. I couldn’t get enough of you, and it was dark enough that no one noticed us. I bit your lip and pressed myself into you, letting your hands roam over me, squeezing gently. I knotted my hands into your hair, and when you cupped my ass and lifted, I gasped, my eyes popping open in surprise.

You grinned at me then, pulling back and shaking your head. “Food,” you reminded me. “And then I have to take you home, please.”

I knew you meant alone. That you wouldn’t be joining me in my bed, even though I could tell you weren’t quite ready to be done with me. But that’s what we did. You bought me a cheeseburger and drove me home, helped me carry my things to the door, and asked me to meet you at noon the next day.

And it was just my luck that something came up, and I never saw you again. I didn’t make it to the beach the following day, but I went every day for a month after that, hoping I’d see you. And I was disappointed every time.

So, you can imagine my surprise when I looked up from an appetizer at dinner three months later, and I see you making your way through the front door of a restaurant, especially since we’re two towns away from where we’d met. And you can understand the absolute panic I felt when I saw the girl next to you, recognized her as the best friend of my date, and realized we were about to be on a double date.

But based on your expression, you’re not panicked at all. No, you seem devilishly pleased that things turned out this way, and your attention seems to be pinned to me as you find your seat across the table.

“So,” you say with a grin. “What’s your name?”

“Shreds of Sanity” & Author Tip

It clung to her with a vengeance like a vile creature from hell. Her ears rang with the shrieking, a maddened sound that grew with fury. Clutching her head, she could feel it digging into her brain, little more than a leech determined to prey upon her last shreds of sanity.

So I might have been feeling a little dramatic at two o’clock in the morning.

I’d spent a couple hours working on my WIP (3rd book of my romance series), and I somehow ended up with less words than I started with at the beginning of the night. (Don’t edit until your first draft is done!) I moved on to creating some Instagram posts, and then I wrote this lovely little bit.

Not sure whether I will fit it into a whole story. I definitely have several books outlined that a struggle against insanity would fit into, especially with the implied external factor of a creature or paranormal demon of sorts. Wanted to share it for now, but every time I write something short and sweet (or not so sweet, in this case), I always end up with a whole new story! Maybe I’ll have yet another side project to work on to keep me balanced so my romance projects don’t become redundant.

Author Tip

Read and write outside your genre. My published series (still more to come) is an erotic romance, but most of my projects are high fantasy or paranormal/supernatural stories that alternate between fantasy worlds or an urban world such as ours. I’ve noticed that when I allow myself to spend time writing in more than one genre during the week, my vocabulary is fresher, my sentence structure is more diverse, and I’m more creative in general. Reading also enhances these qualities. I was actually reading Wuthering Heights when I wrote most of my first published book, and if you’ve read it, you’ll know it’s about the farthest thing in the world from that classic.

So if you’re struggling with writers block, feeling redundant, or just want to spruce up your writing in general, take time to write in a different style and read in a different genre.

Thanks for reading!

I appreciate your time! Feel free to browse around and check out the books I have currently available!

Happy writing to you all, and have a wonderful Tuesday (or whenever you see this)!

I wonder at the sea.

Photo by Dan Stark on Unsplash

Sometimes, I stare at the sea and I wonder. I wonder how the stars look from just below the surface. I wonder whether the sea can feel sad. The sea will never kiss the stars, no matter how much their light is reflected in its skin. The sea knows the soul of the stars like we know the backs of our hands. It knows their brightness and radiance and shares it with the world each night, bragging like a hopeful admirer. But the stars don’t appreciate the sea at all. The stars don’t even know the sea exists.

Writers Challenge

Today, write approximately one hundred words about the sea. It can be educational. It can be fantastical. It can be mystical or horrifying.

If you’re having trouble getting started, search for pictures of the sea , ocean, or bodies of water as inspiration. It’s amazing what other forms of art, such as photography, can do for the art of writing.

What do you do to stimulate your mind when you experience writers block?

If you don’t have a solid method for escape the traps of your own mind, here are some things I do to refresh myself or push through the struggle of writers block.

  • Spend time outside. It’s a great way to destress. You can also find motivation and inspiration in nature, and pleasant whether has a way of relaxing the body.
  • Journal or free write. Pick up a pen, and put it to paper. Write whatever words come to mind. If nothing comes, start with “I don’t know what to write.” You may be surprised how more words come to you once you actual go through the motion of writing a few down.
  • Write the crappy, choppy paragraphs that are making you cringe. If your writing sounds awful, it’s okay. That’s what rough drafts are supposed to be like! I like to call my rough drafts, “crap drafts.” It takes the pressure of the perfection of wording. Even if you think you’re going to have to re-write, scrap, or edit, push through for an hour and then stop for the day. Getting something written down might open up your mind to what you really want to write.
  • Take a break for the day. Set a timer the next day, and write for thirty minutes. Then, take another break if you need it. You can spare half an hour of suffering for your story to be told one day.

Don’t forget to read.

Try to read daily. Read fiction and non-fiction. Read blogs, read books, read the news. Read anything. But if you’re going to write, you need to read. Writing is the exercise of writers, but reading is their nutrient supply.

Writing Exercise: Start With A Picture

*Photo by Dave Hoefler on Unsplash*

The island was on a sea of glass, water so still that the skeletal trees were a near perfect reflection as they stretched across the water. A shadow of blackened limbs against a medley of purples and orange, the mass of trees called to them, a haunting reminder of what they knew lay within the tangle of roots and soil.

Why do writing exercises?

Everyone experiences writers block at some point. One of my favorite ways to refresh my mind when my current project has me down is to browse for beautiful images. There are so many talented photographers and artists out there, and websites such as Unsplash or Pexels are wonderful resources to find new inspiration. (While not required, it is always kind to credit the photographer when possible!)

If you’re having writers block, feeling unmotivated, or stuck in a writing-rut, you can find ways to pull yourself out of it. Explore other forms of art or take a walk through nature. Take a short break from you current project, and write a small little blurb like I’ve done above. Just don’t forget to revisit your current project at the end of the day to stay on track!

“You can’t use up creativity. The more you use, the more you have.”

– Maya Angelou

*Photo by Dave Hoefler on Unsplash*