Sabrina Lacey - Throbbing Hearts 1
Brendan Clark doesn't know I exist. But tonight, I'm going to change that. For the first time in four painfully long years, he's single. I've been waiting for this, my heart racing every time I see him. I finally have a chance and I'm going to take it. Tonight I will touch those kissable lips... and he'll see it, too - that we're meant for each other. If only I can stop shaking...
Sabrina Lacey
Sabrina Lacey is like many women in modern times - she's been a lot of things to a lot of people. A wife, ex-wife, daughter, teacher, stand-up comedienne, wackadoo, loyal friend, fed-up bartender, fashion photographer, lazy bones, bitch, and sweetheart (though less often than bitch). She lives in way too dry Los Angeles where she wishes there was more thunderstorms. Who doesn't love a good thunderstorm...
Pour a nice glass of wine, and enjoy the ride. ;) Cheers!
Website and Blog: http://sabrinalacey.com
Throbbing Hearts Part 1 by Sabrina Lacey
Excerpt
Annie
Totally over stupidity-saturated college
parties like this one. Wishing I was back in bed. Still heavy, heavy, heavy in
my Goth phase. If you don’t like it you can fuck right off.
________
I ask Corrine, “Why did I come to this
stupid thing again?” as she snakes her way through too many faces I pretend not
to know. These people are all friends (ish) with her, but with me? Not so much.
“You came because I made you! You can’t stay
stuck behind a computer every night, Annie! How are you ever going to get
laid?” She throws a look my way that says I should know these things.
“You mean fall in love. How am I ever going
to fall in love,” I correct her. Even
with the dyed black hair, black lipstick, black wardrobe – I’m a hopeless
romantic.
She snorts disapproval and stands up on the
toes of her already high-heels so she can peek over the mass of stupid. “I see
booze! Come on!”
“I can’t wait.”
My hand gets encased in hers and I am
dragged by force. Corinne is the sitting-on-the-back-of-a-motorcycle kind of
beautiful. No tiaras for this one. She’ll wear pink, but it’s gotta be hot
pink. Her hair isn’t just dyed blonde, it’s platinum. Her jewelry is a little
too heavily applied, as is her red lipstick. Makeup around her green eyes is
the only thing she keeps low-key. She’s a little bit on the trashy side and I
really like that about her. You wouldn’t catch me dead around a pastel-wearing
girlie-girl. Corinne’s not afraid to swear, get dirty, and be maybe a lot
slutty. Vicariously, I live through her wild side. She’s fine with that,
because everyone needs a cheerleader and I’m her biggest. I just cheer from
behind a sarcastic grin and dry witticisms, that’s all.
When we get to the multitude of inebriation
materials, she turns to me. “Falling in love is an antiquated notion. We don’t
need men. They need us. We center them. And from them, we get sex. Hot sex, if
we’re lucky. And if we’re not lucky, we move on.”
I watch her grab the gin bottle, and I
almost scream, “No! No gin. I can’t even think of gin without vomiting up the
last three years of my life.”
She drops it back to the table. “Oh yeah.
That was a fun night. If fun equals a nightmare. How ‘bout this?” She holds up
a bottle that says Chopin. I lean in closer and see that it’s some highfalutin
vodka. “This good?”
I shrug. “Let’s give it a shot.”
“Shots! Yes!!”
“Uh oh.” My tone is as dry as a scone left
out for five days and then two more. “We’re doing shots. Great.”
Corinne pours while talking. “Look, you. You’re making Marilyn Manson
jealous with that outfit. Your social skills are bested by mutes. We need to
loosen you up if we’re going to get you any action – like EVER.”
My tongue plays with the roof of my mouth as
I suck on her game plan. “Why do you even hang out with me?”
“Because I love you, Squid. And you make me
feel good when I’m around you. You get me, and you don’t judge. Do you know how
rare that is?” She calls me squid because of the black hair dye I’m addicted
to. I’m naturally strawberry blonde and even though the lowest percentage of
the population is born strawberry blonde – I could give a fuck. It’s too
puppies, kittens and roses for me.
“That’s very sweet. I may throw up.” We tap
our cups together with no celebratory clink bouncing back, thanks to the
plastic. Very low end, this party. I vow that when I’m all grown up and have
got my own place, I will have enough glassware to throw a party without red
plastic cups sullying the classy festivities. I drink the vodka and wince.
“Blech… add some cranberry or something?”
With her hand, Corinne shakes her platinum
hair and musses it up all sexy style like she’s readying herself for battle
against the weaker sex, and I don’t mean women. “Hello. Shots aren’t supposed
to taste good. Drink up.”
“Eesh.” I drink it back and cough once. Just
once because her laser-beam eyeballs stop me from making a scene. “Sorry.”
“You’re not a lost cause!” She chuckles.
“You’ve still got these.” She points to my eyes, which – I have to admit – are
probably my best feature. They’re bright cotton candy blue. I am fond of them. Why do you think I
smudge so much eyeliner around them? “And these!” She reaches out and grabs my
boobs, which are cleverly hidden behind a baggy shirt and jacket, not to
mention several silver stone-pendant necklaces. Each stone has a different
healing property: protection,
communication and love. I fancy
myself a bit of a witch. Or spiritual. Or
whatever.
“Anybody besides you touches my boobs and
I’ll punch them in the face. And you can let them go now, too.” She laughs and
obeys. I’m not into girls. Neither is Corinne. But I don’t really mind her
grabbing them. Someone’s got to.
“Hey!” she barks at a girl pushing through
to the booze-table. The girl eyeballs her and a silent war is won by neither.
Corinne looks back to me. “Does that include Brendan Clark? Would you punch him
in the face if he did this?” She grabs them again and giggles.
My heart jumps out and kisses her for saying
his name. But then it goes dead all over again and I swat her hands away.
“Brendan’s got a girlfriend, remember?”
Corinne leans in and whispers, “Not anymore.
Word is, he dumped her right before they were supposed to go away and celebrate
their graduation with a good boinking.” She eyes me. “Interesting news, isn’t
it?”
See this is the problem with friends. They
see things you don’t want them to see. Which means you can’t live in happy
denial. I’ve not told anyone how I feel about Brendan Clark, not even her. But
somehow she spotted me staring at him with my mouth open one too many times.
Ever since, it’s been like dragging Lindsey Lohan to rehab to get her to drop
it.
But still my heart pirouettes throughout my
insides at the news.
Brendan’s single?
I blink at Corinne, stunned and speechless.
Though, Brendan has all of my heart, he has no idea who I am. He is beyond out
of my league. I’ve only said “hey” to him once and it was a disaster. I said it
because he said it first. But then it turned out he was talking to his buddy
Mark who was walking up behind me. Needless to say, I slinked back into the
shadows where it’s nice and quiet… and dark enough for me to cry.
I shrug and look away so she can’t see me
lying. “I don’t know how many times I have to tell you this, Marilyn, but I really don’t care what
Brendan does.” She calls me Squid. I call her Marilyn after Marilyn Monroe,
thanks to her hair and sexy goddess style. I may have gotten the short end of
the nickname stick.
Her eyes narrow and she leans in to see if
she can decipher my code. “Really?”
Avoiding her, I mutter without care, “Yeah.
I’m not interested.”
“Not at all?”
“Not in the slightest.”
“He’s walking up behind you.”
“Let’s do another shot.”
Corinne laughs hard and turns to shove that
girl out of the way. Successful, she starts singing “Shots shots shots shots”
by the band LMFAO, and pours way too generously.
I don’t dare look around, but I don’t need
to. Before I even lay eyes on Brendan, I hear his voice, low and deeper than
most other guys and already my knees feel like noodles. His voice boasts his
advanced levels of testosterone, and the place that aches for him between my
legs moistens instantly. He’s here. He’s walking up behind me. Now is my chance
to talk to him! To let him know I exist. I eavesdrop and hear him talking about
Mendocino, something about a…
“Here you go.” Corinne slides a half-full
cup back in my hand and I lose the last part of what was being said.
I take it from her, head down, focusing hard
on the red plastic. I know that when I turn around, I will be face to face with
the man I plan to have babies with. First I should probably tell him my name.
“Thanks.” I drink it before she even has a
chance to toast or join me.
She stares at my speed, reads correctly into
it, and whoops loudly, “Now it’s a
party! Here, have another!”
I don’t argue, holding my cup out. I turn my
head, say nothing, and stare at the man I have every intention of marrying.
He’s exchanging words with jerkoff Mark and that asshole Tommy, but all I can
see is Brendan’s mouth moving like the world just slowed down to make me the
happiest girl in it. His lips are so full and pouty, and his teeth are straight
from the braces he still had on during the beginning of his sophomore year, the
I first time I saw him, three years ago. I was a freshman, and apparently
invisible.
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