Fiction

Welcome to Wednesday! My life just got much, much busier. With a new-ish project, some beta reading, and a paid editing job, I’m swamped. The summer is flying by, too. I hope I can finish everything I’ve started on schedule!

For today’s WIPpet, I’m posting probably the last snippet of Anthem. I’m not sure. It depends on how much of my other project I get done. I’m about 12k into it, so it’s going pretty well, and I’m looking forward to sharing it as soon as I can.

If you recall, Andre was about to head to Trevor’s church for a job. I sense you all thought last week that it might be an awkward reunion. You can decide if you were right after reading this one.

WIPmath: 2 + 9 = 11 + 1 bonus since it’s the last one = 12 paragraphs.

He was a bit too far away for Andre to see clearly, his face half hidden by a music stand. Singing and playing softly, he paused periodically to make notes on the sheet in front of him. His thick, wavy golden hair hung almost to his shoulders, which were hunched in concentration. Each time he stopped, he briefly put the tip of his pencil between his lips and closed his eyes, moving his hand over the keys, nodding, and making a mark.

Andre would happily have continued to watch his creative process, inching his way nearer, but the man stopped playing and glanced up. He slid off the piano bench and hopped down from the stage. When Andre had a closer look, his heart leaped into his throat, and he knew his eyes must be wide as saucers. He recognized the face despite only having seen it once before. Trey. It was hard to forget the mouth that had kissed him with such hunger. Blood pounded in Andre’s ears, and excitement zinged through him at the chance to talk to him again.

For a moment, Andre thought the young man was pleased to see him, too. Trey’s lips parted and his eyes opened wider, but then he narrowed them and a deep scowl crossed his face.

“You’re not supposed to be in here,” he said, dashing Andre’s hopes for a happy reunion.

“I-I’m sorry,” Andre stammered. “I got turned around after a meeting in the church office.”

Trey, or whoever he was, appeared tired—not just physical exhaustion but something else, some kind of emotional strain, and Andre wondered if he was the cause. Concern must have shown on his face because panic flashed across the other man’s features briefly. He shrugged and his face relaxed into a half-smile.

“And you are?”

“Andre Cole.” Shaking off his disappointment, Andre extended his hand, and the man accepted it.

“Trevor Davidson.”

Andre’s mouth dropped open. Reality smacked him forcefully and anxiety welled up. Oh, God…oh, God…I had anonymous sex with the voice of my favorite podcast. “I know who you are.”

“Yeah, I get that a lot.” Trevor sighed. “Look, can I do anything for you? If not, I’ll show you out.”

“Just showing me out is plenty.” It really, really wasn’t, but Andre wasn’t sure how to ask if Trevor remembered their encounter as well as he did.

Like what you read? Try out these other posts here. Add your own by posting a bit of your work in progress, connecting it with Fancy Math to the date, and linking up. Thanks to K. L. Schwengel for creating this space for us. Happy reading and writing!

This is the easiest two weeks of summer: both of my kids are at camp, and I have hours to myself at home. I’ve gotten a lot done in just two days, and I’m back to drafting a new manuscript. I don’t have enough to share yet, though. Maybe once we get to August.

Meanwhile, I’ve submitted a few things, and I’m participating in some online writing groups. I had a phase of feeling like a complete hack, which I’m sure all of us do from time to time. But finishing a short story and having it beta read made a world of difference.

On to the WIPpet. I’m still in Anthem, and guess what? Our guys are about to have their worlds collide. If you recall from last week, Andre wasn’t in the best spirits. This part immediately follows the previous snippet. (Just to remind you all from before, Trevor and Andre don’t know each other’s real names yet.)

WIPmath: 15 = 1 + 5 = 6 paragraphs

Andre slumped against the wall, closing his eyes and leaning his head back. He didn’t want to move. The thought of rearranging his body drained him of all his emotional energy.

Not yet having his television and other components set up and not in the mood to turn on his laptop—which wouldn’t have Internet until Tuesday anyway—he pulled out a book. It was a dense technical tome, exactly the sort of thing he needed in order to relax his mind and remove himself from any other thoughts. He dragged himself up the stairs, hauling the book.

Even the routine of undressing, washing up, and turning down the covers set his teeth on edge and made his head throb. There was no way to escape the grief that clung like vines, wrapping themselves around his chest and squeezing until he was sure they would press the life out of him. He’d been convinced moving back to the city was the right thing to do, but now he questioned it all. The ache was deeper, a longing for everything he’d left behind mere hours earlier.

He curled on his side, the book splayed open on the bed beside him. For a few minutes, he stared at it, the words running together on the page. Andre closed it again, intending to sleep, but it was too early and he wasn’t tired. He sat up and reached for his phone, where he had a couple of podcasts stored. Plugging in his earbuds, he opened the app and searched for one he wanted. Most of them were on technical issues or gaming, all requiring too much thought. The history of jazz one reminded him too much of Dahlia. He settled on something called Discoveries in Worship, which sometimes had interesting commentary on contemporary church music.

“Hey, this is Trevor Davidson of Harvest Church in Boston. Tonight’s topic is bringing fresh perspective on old songs.”

Andre turned up the volume. He’d heard Trevor before; he appeared on the podcast about once a month, usually to talk about songwriting or how technology had changed the way church bands led worship. Trevor’s mellow voice continued. Feeling more awake, Andre sat up and devoted his full attention to the podcast. He smiled and settled in to listen to the rest of the hour, pleasantly distracted from his loneliness for the time being.

Like what you read? Check out the other entries here. You can add your own by posting a snippet of your work in progress, connecting it to the date however you choose, and linking up with us. Thanks to K. L. Schwengel for creating this space for us. Happy reading and writing!

Welcome, Wednesday! It’s officially the first day of summer vacation. We’ll see how much I actually get done with two kids home full-time for the next couple of months.

As promised, here is the video from the dress rehearsal of their Irish dance recital. This is there hard shoe dance. I’ll try to get their dance drama posted before next week if I’m not too busy breaking up fights. My son is the taller boy, all the way on the left. My daughter is the one next to the other boy. Their studio is the only non-competitive one in the area (that’s a whole other story).

On to this week’s WIPpet.

We’re back with Trevor and Andre because I’m not ready to switch over yet. (I know! I know! I promise more Cat for you when I’m done with all the edits for Anthem, but it’s tricky due to spoilers.) You may recall we left our guys deciding “not here” in the middle of the dance floor. As you can see from the snippet below, they clearly found somewhere to go. It probably wasn’t their best option, and there will be consequences neither of them intended.

WIPmath: 24th = 2 + 4 = 6 (- 1 because it’s the first day of summer vacation) = 5 paragraphs

Leaning in, Andre kissed Trey full on the mouth. Trey hummed against his lips, returning the light, tender embrace. Andre withdrew and gave Trey a peck on the cheek. The blush was back, but the look of ecstasy on Trey’s face slid away when their eyes met, replaced by panic. He began breathing rapidly again, but it was clearly no longer from pleasure. Fumbling a little, he tucked himself away and zipped his fly.

“You okay?” Andre asked, touching Trey’s trembling hand.

Trey shook his head and pulled his arm away. “I have to go,” he mumbled.

He yanked at the latch on the door and finally managed to get it open, nearly banging it into Andre’s nose on the way out. Andre hurriedly dragged his jeans back up and rushed after Trey. It was obvious the poor guy didn’t know how he felt about what they’d just done, and Andre didn’t want to leave things that way. By the time he got out into the hallway, there was no sign of Trey.

Andre leaned against the wall and blew out his breath. His pocket vibrated, and he pulled out his phone. It was a text from Julian asking where he was and how things had gone with “that blond hottie.” Andre ran a hand over his face before sending a text back saying, “I’ll give you your five dollars in the morning.” He shoved his phone back in his pocket and closed his eyes, knowing he would have to endure Julian’s questions the entire train ride home. Huffing, he pushed off the wall and walked slowly out of the hallway.

Like what you read? There are more awesome entries here, thanks to K. L. Schwengel providing this space for us. If you want to add your own, post a bit of your work-in-progress, connect it to the date, and add the link. We do this every Wednesday. Happy reading and writing!