New Discoveries

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Gay and Lesbian  |  House: Booksie Classic
this is a scene from my upcoming novel...hopefully... please comment

Submitted: January 13, 2010

A A A | A A A

Submitted: January 13, 2010



As i wrapped up my journal entry for the day i placed the velvet bind face up to keep my spot held, and walked into the kitchen for a midnight snack. I warmed up a frying pan on the pewter, gas stove and fetched the tortillas and Monterey Jack cheese from the refrigerator. I placed the butter in the pan and jogged back to the room to scribble the last “motivational” sentence i had in my head. When i gamboled down the hallway and turn the corner, my stomach nearly dropped to the image i saw. My head grew hot, my patience, thin and my heart, hard.

“What the fuck are you doing?” I screamed at him. I darted towards him and snatched the booklet from his hands. I swiped the purple pen that was rightfully mine off the suede, charcoal sofa and stepped towards the door. “You have no right to be in anyone else things, rather than your own. Got it?” I spoke firmly. His eyes were filled with an apology that I'm sure was sincere, but the one thing i hated was invasion of privacy. I went into the kitchen to find my pan scolding hot. i threw my tortilla on, filled it with cheese and slammed my journal open. My hand told the story of the ass hole who just read my personal thoughts, and the bigger problem was that it was all about him.

I went off about how even the meanest insult or hardest punch in the face from his full lips or tan, almost bronze, arms wouldn’t hurt me, couldn’t hurt me, because I’d be too quick to forgive him. My face, in a disgruntled position i imagine, portrayed all seriousness when Shawn walked into the room with his sketch pad. The friendly red pencil in his hand was snapped in two and his eyebrows were in the perfect position for a long ,”I’m sorry” speech. He handed me the bounded notebook and attempted to leave the kitchen without a word.

“Hey,” i said softly, “I don’t want this. Just because you were nosey and rude, doesn’t mean i have to be the same. And besides, they probably aren’t worth peaking at anyway.”

He gave a half smile to my serious joke and said, “Then i guess that means your writing sucks too.”

The fastest way to a heart was to give it something to doubt, and i already doubted my writing ability, and the curiosity was killing me. “Go on, open it.”

I looked at him with quizzical eyes, and opened the book as our faces stayed connected across the tiled room. I put my face into the page as the red scratches showed a masterpiece of a live drawing. It was of a boy, sitting on a park bench feeding a bird. I turn the page and it was the same boy, only reading a book. I turned another page, and another, and another, until i reached about the twenty-sixth page. All were beautiful red sketches of a boy, eating, writing, sleeping, laughing, smiling, and even sipping a drink out of a coffee mug. The most jaw-dropping, stomach-turning, breath-taking part, was that the boy was me.

I turned to look at him as i sat in shock on the bar stool. His face was nearly inches from mine as he whispered, “Still think they’re no good.”

I nodded yes as my eyes began to musk up with reluctant wetness. I wiped them quick with my sweater sleeve and look back into his deep, emerald eyes.

“It doesn’t take much to make beauty known, but it’ ten times as hard to show what it truly is. Think i accomplished that?”

I nodded no again as i hugged the stranger in front of me. His took his arms above me and enveloped my heart, my soul and my mind, all with one touch. His warm hands on my back felt like they belonged there. His breath in my ear was a lullaby and the rapid pulse of his thumping chest made it all the more real.

“You’d don’t really hate me do you? “ He said softly pointing to a line in my journal.

I laughed and turned the page back wards and pointed at a different line. He didn’t take his eyes away from mine and spoke loud and clear, “I know, i do have great abs.”

I gaped at him and playfully slapped his chest as we both chuckled. He back away in a quiet laughter as i asked loudly ,” How long have you been reading my journal.?'”

He grabbed me by the small of my back and pulled me off the stool and closer to him. He glanced back and forth from my lips to my eyes as the most angelic voice washed over me and took me under in a thick English accent., “Long enough.” My mouth connected with his as a warm feeling melted my heart away. My hand on his chest vibrated between the two of us. He let out a slight moan and finished kissing me more eager than expected. When do i write in my journal that my love is only for him when he is only going to read it when i set it down? “I guess some things can’t go on paper.”

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