No Kiss Blog Fest!

You all might remember the kissing day blog fest from a few entries back. Well, Frankie decided it would be a good idea to do a no-kiss blog fest, where we all celebrate the almost kisses in our WIPs! I thought it was a great idea, and signed up as soon as I heard (I'm the sixth name on the list!).

But then I realized the dilemma...I don't have any almost kisses in my WIP. Apparently, I like to just give my characters whatever they want. (Actually, it's really because there aren't that many kisses there to begin with, for reasons I can't really explain here because I harbor delusions that people care about spoilers.)

So...what to do? I wanted to participate, and I couldn't let Frankie down...plus I was already signed up! So I decided to write a scene just for the occasion! The characters are from what I thought would be my next project, but will most likely be the project after that, as I now have an idea I love for my next project, and can't give up on it now. (Of course, this is all assuming my current WIP, which is a planned series, doesn't get immediately picked up by the most fabulous agent/publisher ever.) Everything that happens is so them, I might just end up putting it in that WIP anyway.

I was also going to include my New Years Resolutions in this post, but the scene turned out rather long, so I decided not to. So tune in for that tomorrow.

And now, without further ado...the worst first date imaginable...my scene for the #nokissblogfest!

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“I had a great time tonight,” Marshall said, gazing at me from the driver’s seat of his green Lexus. His eyes glistened in the light of the full moon. He had chosen an oldies station to set the mood, and Frank Sinatra was crooning through the stereo.

“Mm,” I replied, shifting uncomfortable in my seat. Ugh. Only a few streets until my house. I could hold out that long, right?

This should have been the perfect date. I’d had my eye on Marshall Fuller for months. He was intelligent, charming, cute in that geeky sort of way that I just can’t get enough of, and exceedingly polite. All night, he had been opening doors for me, and he refused to let me pay the bill at dinner or even buy my own ticket at the movies. When he picked me up four hours ago with a bouquet of roses – roses! – in his hands, I thought I must have walked into a dream.

But somewhere between the Indian restaurant and the previews for the coming attractions, that dream had turned into a nightmare. Who knew my favorite meal could turn against me? Usually, spicy chole hit the spot. But tonight … Thank goodness the romantic comedy we’d wanted to see had been sold out, and we’d opted for an action movie instead – plenty of explosions and loud gun fire to mask the sounds coming from my lower intestine.

“Are you alright? You look a little pale.” We’d pulled up to a stop sign, and Marshall was giving me a worried expression, a furrow forming between his eyebrows that made him even more adorable. WHY was this happening to me?!

“Fine. I’m fine.” I gave him a half-hearted smile, and he seemed satisfied. Talking was impossible. I was sweating, but somehow also pocked with cold Goosebumps along my entire body. How was that possible?

           

 “So, do you want to get a coffee or something?”

Yes. “No, thanks. I’m pretty tired."

“Well, that’s why you drink coffee. It wakes you up.” He looked at me, a devilish smile playing across his lips. God, those lips…

“No, really. Thanks though. I think just…take me home please.” It was getting worse. It felt as if someone was turning my stomach into knots, then stabbing it repeatedly with a sharp object. I needed to get out of this car. Now.

 “OK, if you’re sure.” The disappointment in his voice was evident, but I was beyond caring at this point. I needed the bathroom, and I needed it now.

 It wasn’t until Marshall turned onto my street that I remembered – the speed bumps.

 My neighborhood was so concerned about speeding cars that, in flagrant disregard for my emotional and physical well-being, they lined my entire street with gigantic speed bumps. Ten huge hills to torture me before I reached the conclusion of this never-ending nightmare.

As Marshall’s car lurched over the first one, my stomach began bubbling and gurgling. Immediately, I turned up the radio in a preemptive strike.

 “I love this song!” I said, blasting the volume as loud as I thought reasonable. And just in time – as Dean Martin reached his vocal climax, my intestines burbled loudly. I clutched my stomach and glanced at Marshall to see if he’d noticed, but he was humming along happily with the song.

After nine more agonizing mini roller coasters (for both the car and my stomach), Marshall finally pulled into my driveway. My hand was on the latch of the door before he’d even turned the car off.

           

“Thanks for a great night!” I said, opening the door. Finally, relief was in sight.

           

“Wait!” He called after me, his head popping over the top of his car. “Let me walk you to the door!”

           

 As he sprinted around to meet me, I wondered why I hadn’t seen this before. In an ideal world, this is exactly how our first date would have ended. He would walk me to my door, whispering romantic notions in my ear, then swoop me toward him and plant a passionate kiss on my lips. But for the past few hours, I hadn’t been thinking about anything but getting out of this. Now, the thing that I had imagined for months and months, the thing I had daydreamed about and scribbled in my pathetic journal about, the thing I had always hoped would happen was finally a reality, and I was going to shit – literally – all over it.

           

 Marshall took my hand and led me to the door. I bit my lip, trying to take deep breaths and keep myself calm. How long could a kiss really take? Thirty seconds? An eternity?

           

 “Jenn … you are so beautiful.” He ran his fingers through my curls, but they didn’t get caught like I expected them to. He continued moving his hand down, tracing the lines of my cheek and my neck, caressing my shoulder, brushing his fingers lightly across my back and sending a new kind of cold sweat running down my spine.

           

I closed my eyes, knowing exactly what was going to come next. As he leaned into me, I felt his breath on my mouth, hot and fresh – when had he eaten a mint? My stomach fluttered, and his lips grazed mine, just barely, when-

             

Grrggrrgtt. Another deafening gurgle from my stomach as its contents shifted, but this time there were no explosions on the big screen or singing Rat Packers to drown out the noise. Just me, Marshall, and the silence of the night. Maybe a few tree frogs.

             

Marshall pulled away, and both our eyes shot open. The look on his face was a mix of horror and amusement. Without a word, I spun around, and in one fluid movement, grabbed my keys from the front pocket of my purse, unlocked my door, and ran inside. __________________________________________

So, there's my scene! Happy no-kiss blog fest (and New Year!) everyone! And don't forget to check out the Mr. Linky list of other bloggers participating, and add your own scene, too!