Aug 7, 2015

Falling (onto) You

Right. I waited for this artist to get back to me about using one of his images, but that looks like it'll have to wait till next week.  Instead, here's a bit of something I've been doing with the main characters from A View That Lacks Stars.

It's got a larger romance plot than I expected, I neither write it nor read it, so I need lots of practice. (any tips from the romance writers out there?) So I take prompts from tumblr that are of the romance type and use my main characters to help me get into the genre. Here's a recent one.


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I love signing. I love feeling the vibrations traveling up my neck and into the air, the sound trailing fingers down my spine as I hold out a note. It has always been a solace for me, a cheap way to leave the harshness of the world behind.

Often I'm moving when I'm singing. Walking down the street. Cleaning the kitchen. I shouldn't, I often get wrapped up in the song and not my steps.  That's why I backed off the stage two weeks ago when I was cleaning it and fell on you as you were setting up the chairs in the orchestra pit.

It's why I've done it again just now.

But unlike last time, I've landed in your arms and not on your back.

You smile shyly at me and we both freeze. I feel your fingers on my back, your chest rising and falling against my side. I want to jump to my feet and pull away. Something in my eyes much say this, because you put me down.

I take a step back, but I can't go father. People have told me I'm pretty before, I'll get text messages about the rumors of who has a crush on me, but no one caught me out of thin air before. No one has looked at me and turned his head away before, no one has respected the look on my face before, and it makes me curious.

You're also the first person working at the theater my age I've noticed.

"I'm glad I caught you this time."

I blush, because before had been a mess of scattered stands and the uncomfortable sound of his face smacking the wood as I knocked him over.

"Me too."

"I love your singing. Are you going to try out for the musical in the Spring?"

"No." I shake my head. I use my free time to earn money, I don't have the hours to put into memorizing scripts and dress rehearsals.

"Oh."

He plays with his hands. I find myself wanting to say something, but not knowing what. This boy is kind and cute, I don't want to leave just yet.

"Trudy? You done with the stage yet?"


"Almost!" I shout towards stage left where I heard the building manager's voice come from.

I turn back to you and you're leaning over, fingers laced together to give me a boost.

"This will be faster than going around to the stairs. He sounds impatient."

"Yeah."  I place one foot and then the other on his fingers. I could use the wall to balance, or the stage's edge, but I use his head instead. His hair is soft and short.

"Ready?"

I nod, bounce a bit, and he pushes me up.  I scramble on the stage, pick up my broom, and rush to finish my job.

I berate myself the rest of the day for not asking your name.
 

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