The directions for the Blogfest are simple:
Tell a story, give examples, share an experience…how do you romance the one you care about or vice versa? (In 500 words or less).
The 492 words below are condensed and edited from one of my yet to be published manuscripts (YA Adventure Fantasy). Please know that it’s still in an early rough draft, but I think it shows the tension I like to see in my literary love . So, this is how I woo…on paper (not my actual love life. That I prefer that with minimal drama).
I hope you enjoy!
“Sara?” He says my name like it’s a question.
“What?” I demand. Darrel’s frown and the hard set of his jaw have me on the defensive.
He meets my eyes. “So, you’re not hurt.”
“I’m okay,” I say in a murmur. He was actually concerned. A tingle of guilt creeps up the back of my neck.
Darrel begins pacing. He doesn’t take his eyes off me. “You know you’re the most impulsive girl…no, I take that back. You’re the most impulsive person I’ve ever met. It’s like you rush towards danger with your eyes closed. You could have been killed. What were you thinking?”
I was thinking I didn’t want to die. I was thinking I’d do anything save myself and the people I love. But I can’t tell him that. I can’t tell him anything. Instead, I let my eyes roll. “Don’t start lecturing me. You’re not my father.”
He shakes his head and chuckles. “No I’m not. No. I’m. Not.”
The sound of his laugh is a drill in my ear. “What’s so funny?”
Darrel stops walking. “I came over here to see if you’re alright, but what I want to do now is wring your neck.”
“Well, I’m fine.” I say with a flip of my hand.
“I can see that.”
“So, if you aren’t going to strangle me,” I pause for dramatic effect. “You can feel free to leave knowing you’ve done your civic duty.”
“My civic duty? This has nothing to do with civic duty.” Darrel folds his arms over his chest.
I mirror his stance and raise my eyebrows. “So what does it have to do with?”
He throws his hands in the air and starts pacing again. When he looks at me, Darrel points an accusing finger my way. “It has to do with you. You make me crazy!”
“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” I say to stop him. “If you’re crazy, it’s not my fault.”
“Oh, yes it is.” He begins running a hand through his hair. “Ever since we met I can’t get you out of my head. It’s like you’ve taken root in my every thought. There’s a constant worry needling my brain that you’re off doing something foolish or getting yourself into trouble. And then when I see you again, my worries are confirmed. You have no self control. You’ve tied me up in knots.”
“I have plenty of self control,” I lie. “And what I do is none of your business.”
Darrel wraps his hands around the back of his neck and seems to squeeze his head with his bent elbows. With his eyes turned to the ground, he drops his arms back to his sides. In almost a whisper he says, “It is my business.”
He doesn’t answer. Instead he stares at me.
“Why?” I shout, causing him to flinch, but still his eyes are on mine. “Why does anything I do concern you?”
“Because I’m going to marry you.”