Hello! You may or may not have noticed, but I missed last WIPpet Wednesday. I commented on a few of yours, but that little snippet I’ve been promising you? Yeah. . . *ahem* I hadn’t gotten around to it. You see, I’ve gotten in this very cozy little break of not feeling in the mood to write. Or edit.
Yeah, I forced myself to smack that little devil sitting on my shoulder saying things like “but it’s the holidays. You can do this after the busy season is over.” Because really, that little angel is quite right. “Pssh, you aren’t THAT busy. You’re just lazy. COME ON!”
So. I’ve got three chapters edited of Spellbound, and onto the fourth. . . which is where this snippet lies that I’ve been promising you. You remember the one? It’s with James and Rachel. I’m continuing (and evolving) what their relationship was. I’m adding more, because I’m realizing it needs more.
So here are 32 paragraphs for you. I saw your eyes go huge there for a moment. Trust me, this is mostly one-liner dialogue. It’s not as big as it sounds. My WIPpet math goes as follows: the day is 12/11/13. 12+11+13=36. I missed Dec 4 WIPpet, so 36-4=32. I’m including the last paragraph from my previous WIPpet, but James is recalling the history of his ex-girlfriend Rachel, and how she found out he was gay.
* * * *
He thought he had been successful in hiding the lack of manifestations because—though confused and clearly disappointed—Rachel never argued his alibi of being shy. The excuse had always worked like a charm with past girlfriends that wanted to explore the realm of physical intimacy, so he had no reason to believe Rachel would be any wiser. If she wanted more, she could be like the others and just dump him.
He couldn’t have been more wrong. Rachel was highly observant and very intelligent. The two qualities he valued in her were the very ones he underestimated. Two months into their relationship, they had been dining at Jose’s Mexican Restaurant when he found out just how observant she’d really been.
“James?” Rachel asked.
“Hmm?” James answered distractedly, pulling his gaze away from the retreating backside of Jeff, their waiter.
Rachel’s eyes narrowed. “You listening?”
“Yes,” he replied automatically.
Rachel looked skeptical. “So. . . are you up for it?”
“Um. . .” James paused, unsure how to respond. He thought he’d been paying attention, but clearly not.
A smirk pulled at Rachel’s lips. “Uh-huh. I thought so. Okay, one more time then. Let’s play a game. I give a few words, and you say the first thing that comes to your mind. I’ll start.”
James opened his mouth to protest, but one look from Rachel told him that saying no was not an option.
“Snarf-blat.”
Surprised, James laughed. “What?”
“You heard me,” Rachel said. “What’s the first thing that comes to your mind? Snarf-blat.”
“Um. . . Little Mermaid,” said James, suddenly recalling that line from the Disney movie.
Rachel laughed. “You know Disney movies. Awesome. Fork or spoon?”
“Fork.”
“Hot or cold?”
“Hot.”
“Ice cream or chocolate?” Rachel pressed on.
“Ice cream.”
“Favorite color?”
“Green.” James answered immediately.
“Fall or spring?”
“Spring.”
Rachel continued to fire away. “Jeff is. . .?”
“Hot.”
James sat there, wide-eyed and horrorstruck at what he had just let slip out. “I didn’t mean. . . that came out wrong,” James rushed to say, but Rachel held up her hand to silence him.
“It’s okay,” she said, wearing a satisfied smirk. There was no belittling tone or judging sneer in her voice. “I had a gut feeling, and I needed to follow it.”
“No, really,” James said, shaking his head. “It’s not what you think. I don’t. . .” he let out a nervous laugh, but Rachel overrode him, eyes rolling.
“James, please. You don’t think I’ve noticed how you check out the ass of every male waiter wherever we eat? You’ve hardly ever given mine a second glance. Don’t give me that look. I know you haven’t.”
He could have pushed the issue, sworn up and down she was wrong, that her assumption was false. He didn’t, though. Part of him was grateful she had found out. She could dump him, and he wouldn’t have to lie to her anymore. James had expected her to storm out of the restaurant that night, puffed up and filled with righteous indignation.
He couldn’t believe, even to this day, that she didn’t. She had been mad, yes, but mad that he had been trying to be someone he wasn’t. He’d never met anyone as selfless as her.
* * * *
There you have it! If you don’t know, K.L. Schwengel stole my ruby red slippers when she interviewed me on Friday. Go check it out if you haven’t. Also, there are more fabulous WIPpeteers at the link to go and read more awesome WIPpet-ness.
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