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Random Book Openings: #1

Despite how crazy things have been around here lately, I actually got my novel word count in for the day. As you may recall if you’ve been following the blog, I’ve taken a break from writing until we close on the new house. But tonight I felt like writing, so I wrote.

I’ve noticed that when life is super hectic, like it is now, I have trouble focusing on large novel projects. I think it’s because books are too important, too permanent. I end up writing a lot of random book openings, just for the fun of it. (And to keep writing–even when I’m not “officially” writing.) I’ve thought about posting some of them here on the blog. Because…why not?

Most of them will never become books, and they’re not edited, so they’ll be messy and sometimes downright horrible, but I feel like I should do something with them. No promises on how often I’ll post them. They’re kind of random things, after all.

Without further ado, here’s the first:

Random Book Opening #1

Genre: Young Adult Contemporary Romance

Everyone is given that one moment in life, the moment that will make or break the rest of their existence. This moment falls in some people’s laps, so convenient it hurts. Others, namely me, have to make our own.

“It’s a bad idea,” Ben whispers from my right. “You’re going to humiliate yourself.”

My target is in my sights: Nathan Bradley. Hottest boy to ever live. Man of my dreams.

Love of my life.

He stands with his usual crew: a popular smattering of jocks, student council members, cheerleaders, and one random computer nerd who just happened to make the right friends in elementary school. His hair is dark blond (Nathan’s not the nerd’s),and it looks like he just had it trimmed for graduation.

I swallow back nerves, and my heart skitters with anticipation. With one last deep breath, I push my graduation tassel back and march forward.

I’m going to kiss Nathan Bradley. I’m going to do it now.

“Come on, Shan,” Ben begs, grabbing my arm. “You don’t want to ruin graduation.”

Ben’s in love with me. We both pretend he’s not. I do because I don’t feel that way about him. He does because he’s too much of a wuss to admit it. Or maybe he doesn’t want to mess up this good thing we’ve had going. I can’t fault him for that. But I love Nathan, have since the moment he sat next to me in our mandatory middle school music elective, asking me if I was going to play viola too.

“I gotta do this.” I shake Ben’s hand off and make my way toward a crowd I have never in my life approached.

Nathan sees me first, and our eyes lock like they are prone to do. His gaze is my kryptonite. It’s given me hope when all hope seems lost. His mouth twitches like he’s trying to hide a smile, but his eyes sparkle. He jerks his head up in a half nod, acknowledging me.

I lick my lips. Though my eyes are glued on Nathan, I feel the rest of the group watching me. Some of them I know from yearbook class but most I’ve never spoken with. Their clique doesn’t exactly rub elbows with mine…if I had a clique…which I don’t.

I have a Ben.

My original plan involved me walking up to Nathan, tossing my arms around his neck, and kissing him for all I’m worth. As I stride over, however, I realize that, though it was a grand plan in theory, it might not be such a hot idea in real life.

Daniel, the nerd, clears his throat. I realize I’ve come to a complete stop, and now I’m staring at Nathan adoringly. One of the cheerleaders giggles and elbows Nathan’s best friend in the ribs.

My determination dwindles away, and panic sets in. This was a bad idea. A colossally bad idea. Ben’s right; what was I thinking?

“Um,” I say dumbly as my ears begin to burn. I know from past experience I have only moments before my face and neck go blotchy. I let out a weak laugh and toss my hand in the air, feigning nonchalance. “I don’t even remember what I was going to say.”

I turn on my heel and clench my eyes shut as I hurry back to Ben with my tail between my legs. Silently, I berate myself for being so miserably pathetic.

It was my moment. The moment.

And I chickened out.

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