You've Got Male Models

A 20-year old prodigy heart surgeon, Chris Cahill, did not expect to share her apartment (or her life) with two aspiring male models when she finally gains her independence. A story in the process of their interesting (and equally hilarious!) adventures of three different individuals living in the present.

JournalWords

I write on a whim, and somewhere along the line, I have collected journals full of phrases and ideas that I use to spark a story. Got any ideas, feel free to share them. How would you interpret a JournalWord?

I ADORE THEM ALL!

Gladiators, Bad-ass priests, Robots, Demons, Cowboys, Demon-Cowboys, Fast-food cashiers, Ninjas, Butlers, Pirates, Sailors... The list goes on and they all make me swoon! (We are instant best buddies if you feel the same, just saying)

Bless

Albeit reluctantly, Sarah finds herself with the responsibility of raising an angel after he crashes from the sky. Sci-fi, supernatural, and a little silly.

Mera

I'm a fiend. *cheeky smile*

Showing posts with label boys. Show all posts
Showing posts with label boys. Show all posts

Thursday, 25 April 2013

Sweet-Talked By The South

JournalWord: Something deliciously sinful.

::

The barn stands bright and vivid against the blue, cloudless sky, flaunting in it's fresh coat of vibrant red. It towers in comparison to the worn, pale, cream house meters away, and glints it's aluminum roof at the winding dirt road that curls over the hills to the little town in the distance underneath. 

The brilliance and pride of the resurrected building has lost it's spotlight from the boys who had helped nail, saw, and paint the barn only a month ago with their neighbor's father, right after they had graduated from the tiny high school four miles from this very barn. No, the attention has been shifted from personal accomplishment to concern and annoyance fabricated from the weeping of the girl curled up inside.

The wide, white doors are propped open by a rake and hoe, stabbed into the dirt to welcome any sign of a roaming breeze. The boys have taken up their stations in the shade of the building, eyes aimed at the bobbing blonde head hidden behind calloused hands.

"Holly, sweetheart," Cade coos in his Southern drawl, seating himself beside her on the crude bench he had helped slap together with planks of leftover wood from the barn construction. He wipes the sweat from his palms on his faded and dusty Wranglers before gently rubbing comforting circles between her shoulders. "Don't ya cry for him."

"She done deserves it," Ashton retorts gruffly, shirking his light eyes from the scene and ignoring Cade's glare to focus on the tack hanging on the wall across from him. He crosses his tanned arms over his chest, flexing his exposed biceps unconsciously.

"No, Holly, it ain't your fault," Cade reassures, brushing back her sun-bleached locks from her tear and sweat soaked face. "He wasn't fitting for ya." 

"You're spoutin' a load of bull, Cade. She shoulda listened at our warnin'."

"Ashton," Cade abruptly snaps, flicking his mop of dark hair out of his eyes, his face heating up from anger and the humidity. "Make yourself useful and fix her something to drink, why don't ya."

Ashton rolls his shoulders as he pushes himself off the column he was leaning on, uncrossing his heels and arms before strolling out of the barn without a sound, but obeying the order with an aura of menace trailing in the kicking dust. 

Cade watches the sun-streaked highlights of Ashton's hair and mud-caked cowboy boots stomp through the open door as they disappear into the brightness. Cade strokes Holly's hair and rummages into his back pocket to produce his light green handkerchief. He briefly prays thanks to his passed grandmother for instilling the rules of a Southern gentleman into his nature, especially the habit of carrying a handkerchief at all times for damsels.

She isn't crying anymore, but her tear streaked face frowns at him as he holds out the handkerchief. Raising an eyebrow at the expression of disapproval, he asks, "What's that look for?"

She accepts the handkerchief with a soft thank you and fingers the sewn initials of a corner. "He's right," she mutters, her usually light, perky voice heavy with emotion and dragging her vowels. "I'm a fool. A goddamn fool."

"You're not a fool, Hol-"

"She's a fool," Ashton interrupts, slamming the trough pail full of water onto the other side of the bench. Water sloshes over the rim of the aluminum pail and splashes onto the bench and beads on the packed dirt floor. "Drink up," he calls as he swivels to stroll out of the door once again. 

"Ashton!" Cade calls in a warning tone, jumping to his feet, but Ashton's already gone. Holly's sniffle returns him to her side, and he starts an apology. "Holly, he's just cranky. You know he just needs to blow off that steam of his. You'd think he'd have had enough when he knocked that city boy after what he said to you."

She lifts her chin and smiles weakly at him, her golden skin peeking through the dust she must have kicked up when she ran down the dirt road. Taking the handkerchief from her trembling hands, he crouches down in front of her and dips a corner into the pail. 

"I shoulda listened to yours and Ashton's warnin's. I shouldna got ya both involved in my mistake."

"Ya stop right there, Holly. That city boy had done you wrong by stringin' you like a baited fish. He done deserved what he had got," Cade dismisses, tipping her chin up so he can wipe at the mess of her face. 



"I still shoulda trusted my best friends when ya said he was no good. You must think I'm dumb for falling for his tricks. I'm a no good, dumb street-"

"Ya best not finish that thought, Holly," he commands, and his tone stops her. A tear slips from the edge of her lashes and he instantly frets with apologies for making her cry. "No, sweetheart, I'm sorry, so sorry. Don't cry."

Her lips quiver as her eyes glaze over again into her sorrow, and the tears start to cascade again. In desperation, he wraps his arms around her head, pulling her into a hug so his chin tucks the crown of her head to his neck. She cries out in protest, but he keeps his hold onto her. "You're dumb, but cute," he says. "But you're also huggable, and sweet, and he doesn't deserve your pretty smiles or warm apple crumbles." 


She chokes on a laugh and relaxes into his strange embrace as he takes the moment to continue. 

"But ya best remember," he says, but pauses for a thoughtful hesitation. She can hear a slight strain in his voice, and the thudding in his chest quickens. "Ashton and I will protect ya from every stumble and tear." His voice hardens suddenly with a serious tone. "Holly, I love ya."

She doesn't know what to say. Sure, they told each other they loved each other, but with the playful tone of childhood friends, but this serious tone startles her. This is a declaration she hasn't seen coming. 

"Correction, we love ya." 

She snaps her head out from under Cade's chin, but his arms hang loosely around her shoulders, allowing her to easily push out of his embrace. But she doesn't. She doesn't want to, especially when she sees Ashton standing in the barn door, a breeze brushing his hair from his furrowed eyebrows. 

But she also doesn't want to be in this situation. What could this mean? 

Ashton walks forward and gently places the tall, frosted glass of lemonade he had retrieved onto the bench beside the pail. She knows it's an apology for his comments and behavior but she doesn't touch it, no matter how much she's aching to drink it. Instead, she tries to meet his crystal blue eyes, and when she does, he immediately turns away. If she hadn't noticed the red tinge of his ears peeking from under his long locks, she would have thought he was insulted. 

She turns to Cade who retracts his arms from her shoulders, leaning back so she can regain her space. He doesn't smile, but his eyes openly express patience, and she tries to remember if he has ever gazed at her in such a loving warmth before, and why she never noticed. 

"I lo-" she starts, but Ashton interrupts. 

"No," he grunts out, then coughs to clear his voice. "No, don't ya say it unless you're sure." And she reaches out to pull his hand towards her so he will look at her. He refuses so she tugs him by the hand, startling him with the strength that tips him. 

"I love ya both, I really do, and I would never have thought that ya, both of ya'll," she corrects, turning to look both of them in the eyes, "would ever feel this way for me. This is shocking," she breathes. 

"Ya don't have to choose," Cade informs, "We both want ya and we want to share. That is if you'd like us." 

She blinks back tears at the soft catch in his voice, almost like a kicked puppy, and her head swirls. Suddenly she remembers all the times they've spent together, fighting and laughing, and the times they defended her and the times they told each other that they loved each other and the promises they made. She loves them as well, equally with a burning passion, but had set it aside for their deep friendship. 

Her tears over flow from her recollection of why she defied their warnings of George. She wanted to completely rid the love that she believed would rip them apart, and fill it with someone else to retain the friendship. Tears keep streaming but she grips his hand tighter, and uses her other hand to grab Cade's hand as well. 

Her voice shakes momentarily because of the tears and after a moment to still her trembling lips she looks at them both with a set gaze. "I don't even know how long I've been aching for this. I love ya, both of ya'll," she repeats and pauses when they both brush their thumbs over her cheeks, wiping the teardrops. 

"Don't force ya'self," Ashton whispers and she flares, glaring at him and setting her jaw. 

"Stop that," she bites out. "I love ya both, and I have for a long time so ya can't persuade me otherwise. I love ya'll, now shut up about not believing me and kiss me." 

They hesitate and they share a stricken expression between themselves and she wonders at how unfair it is that they've kept this to themselves and left her to dwell by herself. 

"Ya realize this is a sin," Cade supplies.

Ashton shakes his head in agreement. "We have resigned ourselves from the church under our own devices, but we don't want ya to fall with us."

A breeze trickles into the barn and teases the sweat on the nape of their necks, but she doesn't flinch like they do. 

"Well, ya know that I'm not religious, so let's be sinful together."

Ashton stares stunned at her angry pout, recognizing her hurt and determination. Cade chuckles. "Ya heard the queen," his familiar wide smile making its return.

She protests at the jest and opens her mouth to retort, only for Ashton to swoop in to press his lips against hers. He relishes her salty lips and takes advantage of her open-mouthed surprise, welcoming his tongue to meet hers. Cade whines at the loss of attention and they break apart, panting for breath. 

Thumbing her swollen lips and flushed cheeks, he remarks, "That tan of yours can never hide your blushes." She refocuses at his chuckle and he pecks her pursed lips. Before Ashton can give his sarcastic comparison, Cade whispers, "I'll top his kiss next time. I'll promise ya that," and winks.  


::

Something naughty~!
(Welcome to my messed-up mind.... *ghostly oooh's*)
Let me know what you think, and whether this is too tame.
Maybe I'll take that as a challenge. ;P


Could you hear the southern twang in their voices? 
Could you figure out what had happened to Holly?
Were Cade and Ashton's reaction decipherable? 

Please, let me know :D

Until the next story!
mera *__*

Thursday, 24 January 2013

Womanly Bits

JournalWord: "What's so good about being a girl?"

::

Sherry stomps over to the table and slams her lunch down before sliding into the booth. 

Aaron lowers his spoon and raises an eyebrow at the three KitKats. "Is that all you're having?"

She snarls and rips the wrapper off of one viciously, tossing it behind her into the next booth without a care. After chewing a stick, she slams down her head, groaning at the pain and vocally regretting the action.

Aaron pushes his soup aside, seeing as every time he tries to eat, she slams the table. Brett joins them in that second, opting to slide into the seat beside Aaron instead, at the sight of Sherry's head of hair. 

"What's her problem?" he asks, grabbing the water bottle on his tray to twist open the cap. Aaron opens his mouth, but Sherry decides to wake up.

"What's so good about being a girl?" she asks, turning her head so her cheek rests on the table and she can see them through her overturned hair. She stares at them, challenging, as she shoves another stick of chocolate into her mouth.

"Um, is this supposed to be rhetorical?" Aaron supplies, suspicious.

Brett smirks and shakes his head at Aaron. "This is a trick question." He points at Sherry with his water bottle. "You are absolutely gorgeous, my dear."

"Bzzt! Wrong!" She lifts her head up but slouches onto her arms. "Both of you. I want to know what is so good about being a girl. The truth!"

Without hesitation, they simply reply with "Sex".

"You've got to be kidding," she says, rolling her eyes.

Brett lifts his plastic fork and aims it so it dangles in front of her eyes. "Sweetheart, sex is always the answer and from a guy's point of view, you ladies make it amazing by just being there. I mean, you've got the easy end of the deal; you don't have to work for it, you've always got a willing partner, and you always end up feeling good. Although whether it's emotionally or physically, I'm still working on that," he adds, stabbing his pasta matter-of-factly.

Aaron blinks and swivels to meet Sherry's attention. "Okay, there must be a reason why you'd bring this up so I'm going to hit all the bases. Women have every guy wrapped around their tiny fingers. They have the ability to be both impossibly beautiful and crazy smart. They have their own empowered rights. You get free drinks at the bar, for heaven's sake! And children like your half of the species! What more can you ask? Women are the epitome of amazing."

"Dude, you forgot lingerie." At that they both sink into their seats and drift into a dreamland only expressed in a distant smile. 

Sherry coughs to snap them back to reality. "You're forgetting that we have to sacrifice a lot for those free drinks, like expensive makeup and clothes, and diets with extreme workout sessions," she retorts back, and Aaron and Brett briefly regard each other before leaning towards her.

"You just want to bicker," Aaron concludes with a smirk and Brett nods, picking up his sandwich. Aaron reaches for his tray, dunking his crackers into the cold soup.

Sherry sputters. "What? No. I just think that there's nothing good about being a women, is all." Her voice trails off to a whisper as she gnaws on her chocolate. Brett leans forward to pat her head comfortingly.

"Hey Sherry," Tia greets, passing the table. One glance at Sherry's drooped stature is enough for her to reach into her bag. "Period?" she asks, and much to the guys' horror, Sherry pouts and nods. 

Tia nods understandably and hands her another chocolate bar. "Just think, one day you'll snag yourself a hottie with your womanly bits and have the cutest little baby ever," she says, smiling before she leaves. 

Brett and Aaron scoff when she disappears but shut their mouths when Sherry finally smiles, giggling distantly as she unwraps the next KitKat bar.

::

Yesterday, I realized something extraordinary.

In the space of a few months, I had unknowingly forgotten myself.

Forgot my motivation. Forgot who I aim to be. Forgot my sense of passion. 

A shiver ran down my spine and I realized that without the essentials of my mind, my being, I had lost myself and forgotten why I am here. I mean, what is there if you don't know yourself? 

I didn't think my memory was that bad. I know that I have to write everything down to remember things, like lists, things I need done, my ideas... But it never came to mind that I would need some sort of reminder to bring me back from the blankness creeping in the corners of my internal vision. 

Well, now that I've realized this, I only hope I can manage to revive the spark that seemed to drift from my soul. I need this drive back. There is this passion that I have to catch.

And this explains why Fool's Paradise turned out to be a mess. No motivation, no inspiration. I'm fixing this. I swear.

-Mera.

Wednesday, 5 December 2012

Spiteful


JournalWord: "People these days have a tendency to mistake crap for art."

***

He grits his teeth when her face blossoms into a smile. 

"Thank you, thank you, thank you," she cries out, lifting the canvas up over head to stare in awe at the portrait. Her cheeks have flushed to match the blush on the picture, and he hates to admit that it captures her glowing personality to a key. 

She releases a hand from the canvas to give Brandon a one-armed hug while juggling the heaviness of the canvas. Brandon helps her with a chuckle and grins when she pecks a kiss on his cheek, thanking him again for the present. She's almost trembling with excitement.

Damian glances at the bottle of expensive perfume sitting, neglected on the coffee table, remembering when she was raving about wanting it. That was a week ago and he can't wrap his head around why she isn't raving about it now instead of the painted picture. 

She disappears after she lets go of Brandon, running down the hall with the portrait tucked in her arms so the corners don't catch on the walls as she turns. She yells that she knows exactly where she's going to put it and Damian glowers.

Damian imagines his perfume placed on the vanity in the dressing room beside her bathroom, while Brandon's little painted sketch is perched on the wall of her bedroom, keeping watch over her as she sleeps.

"People these days have a tendency to mistake crap for art," He says smoothly between grit teeth, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his pants.

"You're flattering me," Brandon gushes, smiling victoriously at Damian before turning back to stare along with Damian at the hallway she just left. 

They can hear her squealing when she successfully puts the portrait up. 

He promises to paste pinecones together for her on Christmas. He scowls; then maybe she'll express the same joy.

***

I'm taking a momentary break from studying to post this. 
A little brain-break. 

Be good, 

Mera <3

 
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