Tuesday, May 13, 2014

Because the Night Promotional Event (+Excerpt)


EXCERPT 
 Again I found myself alone with Tristan. 

He lounged on a leather couch. He looked about as comfortable and relaxed as he could possibly be, but far too still and definitely not quite human.  He had changed out of his stage attire; his face scrubbed clean, wearing jeans, but still the same black T shirt.

“Come sit with me.”

I moved across the room slowly.  For so long I had dreamed of crawling back into his arms.  I tried not to visibly shudder at the memory of his cold finger against my neck, or the coolness radiating from his body. Now, instead of craving his touch, I dreaded it.  I picked a spot as far to the other side of the couch as I could and perched myself on the edge of the cushion stiffly. I folded my hands in my lap.  I couldn’t look at him.

“I’d say I don’t bite,” he grinned. “I won’t bite you.” His tone had softened.

I scooted back on the cushion, but I didn’t move closer to him and I certainly didn’t relax.  I wasn’t sure if that was supposed to be funny or terrifying. 

“How did you find me?” The answer scared me.

He leaned forward, placing his elbows on his thighs. “I can sense you.  I didn’t know what it was until I saw you.  You smell like the ocean.”

“Are you saying I smell like low tide?  Eeww.”

Tristan burst out laughing. “No! It’s like fresh air.  Sunshine.  You know that first time you step on the beach for the summer and just for that moment, everything is right in the world?  God, I miss that.”  He closed his eyes, as if he was trying to capture the moment in his mind.

I knew exactly what he meant. I couldn’t imagine never being able to go to the beach again, not being able to feel the sand between my toes, feel the cool crash of the waves against my legs, hear the gulls play along the shore, or taste the salty air.  I couldn’t imagine never being able to feel the sun shine against my face again.  As much as I wanted to stay here, I couldn’t imagine never being able to go home again.  My heart ached for him.

I didn’t know what to say. He watched me and waited for my answer.  I mourned for him, even though he sat right in front of me.  Tears welled up in my eyes.

“How did you like the show?” He moved a bit closer, breaking the awkward silence he’d created.

It took a minute for me to compose myself and collect my thoughts.  “I liked it a lot. It wasn’t like the TV show at all.”

“What don’t you like about the TV show?”  He seemed genuinely surprised that could even be a possibility. 

“Well,” this was kind of awkward. “The concert was a lot more artistic and the TV show is more, I don’t know, about the partying, I guess.” 

“We’re just having a good time.”

“I noticed.” 

“Don’t you like having a good time?” He slid closer, reaching out to wrap a lock of my hair around his finger.

I met his gaze, trying my hardest to ignore the fact his hand was in my hair.  “I guess my idea of fun is just different.”

“Fair enough.” He put his hand back on his knee.





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