Tag Archives: Love story

Introducing my best Friend

Hi Epic Dreamers! I have some exciting news to share with you. I usually don’t post about my personal life, but this particular event in my life is worth mentioning even if it isn’t writing related.

I’m just going to say it…I got married!

Not only did my dream of publishing a novel finally happen, but a few weeks after, I got to marry my best friend.

I bet you’re all wondering who this guy is and how we met so I’ll tell you our story (and I’ll throw some of our wedding pictures in too).

It all started with The Hashna Stone and this blog. Well, in a way, I guess it started before because Eddy and I went to the same church for years, but we never ended up in the same groups and never really talked. I’d seen him around and I knew his name and he knew mine, but that was about the extent of the relationship.

Eddy found my blog and started reading the chapters of The Hashna Stone that I posted.  He must have been impressed with my fantastic story-telling abilities *wink* because he messaged me and told me that he was enjoying the story.

I was flattered as any writer is when someone shows interest in their work, but I had no idea that he had another reason–besides complimenting me on my story–in starting the conversation.

Over the next month and a half, we sent messages back and forth. I thought he was just being nice–having a friendly chat. Even when he invited me to go skating, I still didn’t suspect a thing.

It wasn’t until he stayed by my side for the whole night that I realized he was interested in more than friendship.

The next day, he asked for my number and after only a week of texting each other like crazy I knew that this guy was going to be my best friend.

In the months that followed, I learned more about him.

He was an amazing, empathetic listener. Being an INFJ, I was used to everyone spilling their problems on me, but not having much patience with listening in return, but when Eddy and I held conversations we spent equal time listening and speaking.

I loved that he was an introvert like me and didn’t need the constant noise and stimulus that most extroverts never seem to get enough of. I was thrilled that he didn’t shy away from deep conversations and enjoyed talking one-on-one for hours. (Which is what totally makes an INFJ happy 😉 )

There were little things that we found that we had in common, like we were both interested in archery (I’d only gone as far as owning a bow and shooting it a few times…he was in archery in high school and went to tournaments). We both loved music and he played the guitar and I played the piano (well, saying that we can play is generous…more like we play around and pretend we can play 😉 ).

But what really made my little writer self happy was that he loved books and had an affinity for fantasy which–being a fantasy author– makes me ridiculously happy. 🙂

He’s been with me through this entire writing-a-book process and was even one of my beta readers for one of the early drafts of The Hashna Stone.

So–to speed this story up a bit–we hit it off right away, he stuck with me and was my support though some of the roughest patches in my life, and three years after we started dating, I am now married to my best friend.

I can’t say enough about this guy. I didn’t believe that someone like him could exist.  He makes me feel like I am the most beautiful, exceptional, loved girl in the world.

If you would have asked me before we started talking if I believed in soulmates, I would have said that I  wasn’t sure if something like that existed, but now I know it does. Something about him called to me from those first few conversations, and we connected so easily and quickly.  It seems strange that I ever lived without him and it feels like I’ve known him for my whole life.

I know this sounds terribly cliché and like romantic drivel when I say this, but I’m going to say it anyway; It feels like my life didn’t truly start until he came into it. Like life was frozen, waiting for something I couldn’t explain, and it didn’t began to thaw until I met him.

I’m not sure how to end this post, since it is so different than my usually content, so I’ll end it with this: I’m one happy little writer. 😀

If you want to see more wedding pictures, follow me on Instagram. I’m sharing a picture every week. 🙂

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The Pact

7 years old

She looks like me. That was the first thing Tyler thought when he saw girl who was moving into the house next door. He wondered if she moved here straight from China or if her family had been in the U.S. for generations like his.

She was sitting on the porch steps, chin in her hands. She didn’t look very happy. For some reason, he wanted her to look up at him.

Tyler grabbed the scooter leaning against his house down his driveway then stopped at the street. He wasn’t allowed cross the line where the light cement of the driveway ended and the black pavement of the road began. But she was watching him now, and he didn’t want her to think he was a baby, so he crossed the line and let the wheels roll over the road.

He stopped when he reached the next driveway.

“Can I ride in your driveway?” he asked. She nodded and he scooted his way right up to her porch. He stopped in front of her.

“Did you just get here from China?” Then he remembered how every new kid at school would always ask him that and how it annoyed him, so he added, “Or has your family been here for generations? Mine has been here for four. I’ve never even been to China.”

She blinked at him. She probably wasn’t used to having people actually realize that just because she was Chinese didn’t mean she came from China.

He was sure she was impressed until she said, “I’m not Chinese.”

Now it was Tyler’s turn to blink. But she looked…Oh. “Japanese?”

She shook her head. “I’m from the Philippines.” She said words strangely. She had an accent.

To keep from feeling silly, he changed the subject. “I’m seven. How old are you?”

She brightened. “I’m seven too. That means I’ll be in your class at school right?”

“Yeah. I can show you the ropes.” He’d heard that phrase in a movie. It sounded cool.

“You will show me around?” She seemed confused. She probably didn’t know what “show you the ropes meant.”

“I’ll show you around and tell you everything you need to know,” Tyler explained, feeling important.

“Oh, good. I’ve never been to an American school before.”

Tyler remembered his fist day of school and how nervous he’d been. “We’ll make a pact,” he said, because he’d seen a boy and a girl make a pact in a movie once and always wanted to do it. “I’ll be your partner for everything that happens at school.”

“Ok,” the girl said.

“Shake on it?” Tyler asked, holding his hand out. That’s what the boy and girl did in the movie. The girl put her hand in his. He grinned, and she grinned back.

Tyler rode home on his scooter feeling very satisfied with himself.

Then he relized he didn’t know the girl’s name.

 

12 years old

“Marie!” Tyler called as he rushed down the hall, dodging the other kids to catch up with her. She turned around and smiled. She wore her hair differently and she wore different clothes, but that smile hadn’t changed since she was seven. Changing the look of her smile would be like changing the flavor of chocolate chip cookies.

“I’m going to be in the talent show,” he said. “Want to be my partner?”

Marie’s face fell. “Amber just asked me.”

“Well, I’m sure she’ll understand. We’re always partners.” Ever since the day of their pact, they’d been partners for everything. The science projects in the third grade that got baking soda and vinegar all over Marie’s new shoes because Tyler wanted their volcano to have the biggest explosion. The fifth grade book report that was almost a disaster because Marie wanted to read Charlotte’s Web and Tyler wanted to read Bridge to Terabithia. Luckily, The  Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe saved the day. It had animals and magic.

“I already told her I’d do it with her,” Marie said. She no longer had the accent she had when she was seven.

“But we’re always partners,” Tyler said lamely.

“We can be partners with other people sometimes.” Marie looked apologetic.

Tyler paused, hoping she’d change her mind, but she didn’t say anything. He shrugged. “I guess I’ll find someone else.”

She smiled at him. That smile that didn’t change. Somehow it hurt to look at it.

 

17 years old

It hurt to watch Marie talking with the guy by her side. Laughing, smiling that killer smile of hers. He’d probably asked her out to the junior prom already. It shouldn’t bother Tyler. He was already taking someone.

Still, somehow he’d imagined taking Marie, even though they’d slowly drifted apart over the years. His family moved to a different neighborhood when he was in eighth grade, then came junior high and different class schedules. They still talked, but Tyler wasn’t sure it was enough to ask her to be his date.

He’d daydreamed about asking her. He’d even thought about reminding her of the pact they made when they were kids, but he wasn’t even sure if she remembered. He would end up looking stupid. So this morning, a day before the junior prom, he asked a girl in his math class that didn’t have anyone to go with. It was safe. His friends said she’d had a crush on him all year long. It wasn’t Marie, but at least he wouldn’t make a fool of himself by asking and getting turned down.

Tyler turned away from Marie and the annoying guy by her side and opened his locker. He pulled a notebook out and a folded piece of notebook paper fluttered to the floor.

Thinking it was some stray notes, he started to put it back in the notebook. Then he saw his name written on the front.

He’d seen that handwriting nearly everyday in elementary and middle school. He’d watched it change from block letters to the rounded ones that spelled out his name.

Marie’s handwriting.

He slowly unfolded it, feeling like he was unwrapping a Christmas present he’d waited all year to open.

 

Hey Tyler! 

I know it’s a bit late, but I was sort of hoping you’d get around to it first. Then I thought, “Why does it have to be the guy that does the asking?” I tried to think of a fancy way to do this, but then decided to keep it simple. You always did like to keep things simple (unless it’s a paper mache volcano). 

You can probably guess what I’m about to ask you, so I’ll just go ahead and say it. 

Will you go to the prom with me?

You can’t say no because you made a promise that you’d be my partner for anything school related. 😉 

Anxiously waiting your response,

Marie

 

Tyler grinned. She remembered the pact they’d made.

Then his smile dropped. He’d already asked someone else. It was too late.

Maybe he could get out of it. Maybe he could explain it to the girl he’d asked.

Explain what? That they’d made a pact when they where in second grade to always be partners in everything. That they hadn’t been partners for anything since they were twelve, but now all of a sudden it was important for him to go with Marie even though it meant rudely dumping the girl he’d asked?

He couldn’t do that, even if this was what he wanted. He would have to tell her that he was going with someone else.

Tyler’s stomach knotted at the thought. Never in all his daydreams did he have to turn Marie down.

He sighed and folded the note. Why hadn’t he just ask her? Why couldn’t she have asked him just a few hours earlier?

Maybe she’d waited so late because she was hoping someone else would ask her. Maybe she was only asking him because she didn’t want to go alone. What was that last line? You can’t say no because you made a promise that you’d be my partner for anything school related. What if she was only asking him because she knew he’d say yes? He was nothing but a back-up plan.

Well, he wouldn’t be a back-up plan. Hadn’t she been the one to say that they should have other partners?

Tyler shoved the note back in the locker and pretend he never saw it.

 

18 years old

Tyler hurried through the empty school halls. He’d left his jacket in one of the classrooms and hadn’t realized it until he’d stepped into the fridges air. He was getting a ride home with one of his friends because his car hadn’t started that morning. First his car wouldn’t start, then the girl he asked to prom already had a date, then he forgot his jacket. What else could go wrong?

Tyler opened the classroom door. He froze.

Marie was sitting in one of the desks.

They hadn’t talked since last year when she’d slipped that note in his locker. Tyler felt so guilty about the whole thing that he avoided her. It wasn’t hard to do. Tyler suspected she was avoiding him too. He wished he’d at least written a note back, explaining why he couldn’t take her. But the more time that went by, the more awkward it seemed to approach her.

As if the distance between them weren’t uncomfortable enough, Tyler could tell she’d been crying.

She quickly wiped her face and gave a weak smile. It made Tyler’s heart twist. It wasn’t her smile. It was like chocolate chip cookies without the chocolate chips.

“I forgot my jacket,” Tyler said, feeling the need to explain why he was invading her privacy.

“That one?” She pointed to the jacket hanging over the back of the desk right in front of her. Of course it would be right next to her. It couldn’t be right by the door so he could grab it and leave.

He made his way over there, keeping his eyes focused on the jacket as if it would disappear if he lost sight of it for even a second. He felt he should say something, but didn’t know what. It was her business. Whatever he said would probably make it worse anyway.

Marie stood and scooped her backpack up from the floor, getting ready to leave. By then he was already in her row and just a couple of steps away from his jacket. She picked it up and held it out to him.

His fingers brushed the tips of hers as he took it. His stomach fluttered.

He realized that he was standing there, blocking her way, but instead of moving he said, “Are you alright?”

Marie shrugged. “I’m fine. Just a rough day.”

She wasn’t fine. She looked like she did after the goldfish he’d won at a fair for her died and her mom flushed it down the toilet. “It wasn’t such a great day for me either,” Tyler said.

“Can’t be that bad,” she said. “Unless you got dumped too.”

Dumped? She’d been with that guy since Christmas. All that time together and he broke up with her a week before prom? The jerk. She deserved better than that. “My car wouldn’t start this morning.”

She laughed. The sound made Tyler grin.

“I think I’d rather take a stubborn car than a brake up right now,” she said. The smile faded and she sighed. “I guess I just don’t have luck with these things.”

“Yes you do. I mean you should. I mean he’s the unlucky one. Who wouldn’t want to go to prom with you?”

“Quite a few people actually,” she said, sharply. Then she looked down as if she hadn’t meant to say that.

Tyler knew she meant him. It’s not as if that note could have gotten lost in a little locker. She knew he saw it. She probably wondered why he never brought it up, even after the prom was over, to explain. It didn’t help that he’d avoided her. Of course she was mad at him.

“I should go,” Marie said, hinting that he should move. But he didn’t. He couldn’t let this opportunity go. What were the chances  that he would run into her right after that jerk broke up with her, and before someone else asked her? Tyler silently thanked the girl who’d turned him down earlier.

“I have to tell you something,” he blurted. “I saw the note you left in my locker–”

“I know you did,” she said. “I was walking by you as you reached your locker. I looked back as you opened it up.”

Tyler swallowed. He remembered her walking by, but he didn’t know she’d seen him.  “I’m sorry.  I’d already asked someone else and didn’t know how to tell you.”

She shrugged. “It doesn’t matter. Junior Prom is over.” She smiled. Another smile that wasn’t hers.

“It does matter. I should have told you. I shouldn’t have let all this time go by without explaining.”

She shrugged again. “People get crushes on people who don’t like them back all the time. It’s just one of those things. We don’t have to make things awkward.”

He grinned on the inside. She had a crush on him. Then the feeling faded. She had a crush on him last year before he’d ruined his chance with her. What did she think of him now?

She took a step forward, as if to make Tyler get out of her way.

He didn’t move. She was standing so close. “Yes,” he said.

“What?” She looked up at him, startled.

“I’m answering your note.” Tyler’s heart beat. She’d probably slap him. “I’ll take you to prom. If you’ll go with me.”

She raised her eyebrows. “Are you trying to be funny?”

“We made a pact. We’d always be partners for anything that happened at school. So, it may have taken me awhile, but I’m making good on that pact.”

“You don’t have to ask me to prom because of a promise we made when we were kids.”

“That’s not why I’m asking you.”

“You don’t have to ask me out because you didn’t answer my silly note.”

“That’s not why–”

“I hope you aren’t asking me because you feel sorry for me because my stupid boyfriend dumped me right before prom.”

Tyler smiled. It had been a while since he’d talked with her. It was nice to hear her voice again. Even if she was a bit mad.

“What?” Marie asked.

“I’m asking you because I like you.”

Marie blinked up at him, registering his words. She didn’t say anything and he wondered if she was going to push him out of the way. Then, she smiled. She smiled her smile.

______________________________________________

Hey Epic Dreamers! I know today was supposed to be a post on writing tips but since Thursday fell on Valentine’s Day it seemed a waste to pass up the opportunity to do something special. I hope you enjoyed the story!

P.S. I Think You’re Cute

Six Years Old

Max saved the best Valentine’s for last. He’d already given out the rest of the little bags of candy to his classmates, but the one still in his hand was better than those. It had a mini Hershey chocolate among the gummy bears.

He walked to Jacey, who was bent over digging in her purple backpack and tapped her shoulder. Her dark pigtails swished as she turned. The red ribbons she had tied in each one reminded Max of cherry Twizzlers.

“Here,” Max said, holding out the bag of candy.

She took it and swooped back into her backpack. “I have yours.” She came up holding a square card with a picture of Snoopy surrounded by hearts attached to a tiny bag of heart-shaped candies. The gross kind that taste like chalk.

“Thanks,” Max said. Not because he was really glad to get the candies, but because it was the thing to say when someone gave you something.

Jacey frowned. “It doesn’t have a card with it,” she said peering into the clear plastic bag. The bag, much to Max’s embarrassment, had red and pink hearts all over it. He’d wanted plain bags, but his mother insisted on the one the ones with hearts to make up for his un-valentine’s-day-like candy of gummy bears.

“But it has chocolate,” Max said. Which was more than she could say for her gift.

“Yeah, but it’s more fun when there’s a card too,” she said, swishing one of her pigtails over her shoulder. “Then I can keep them on my dresser and look at them.”

Max couldn’t see why anyone would want to keep a bunch of cards with pictures of cartoon characters that said “Be mine” on them. “You can put the candy on your dresser,” he tried.

She shook her head, making her pigtails swirl around her shoulders. “Candy isn’t pretty. You eat candy. The cards are cute.”

Max shrugged, not sure how he could argue with a girl about what was pretty or not. Next Valentine’s Day, he would get her a bag of candy and a card.

 

Ten Years Old

There was a large Hershey bar sitting on his desk when he got to class. Max wasn’t surprised. It was Valentine’s day, so that was normal. But the note on the back wasn’t normal. Unfortunately, Max didn’t get to read it first.

“You got a whole chocolate bar?” asked Danny in the desk next to him as he snatched the bar from his hands. “Hey there’s a love note on the back of it.”

“It’s not a love note,” Max said, though he had no idea what it said.

“Yeah it is.” Danny held it away so Max couldn’t reach it. “It says, ‘Happy Valentine’s Day. P.S. I think you are cute.’” He read it loudly so the kids nearby could hear.

“Who would think you’re cute, Danny?” asked one of the boys behind Max.

“Eww, it’s not mine,” Danny said. “It’s his.” Danny gave the chocolate back to Max. He flipped it over, hoping that Danny was making it up, but there was a square valentine with a picture of Snoopy. Scrawled over the Snoopy were the exact words Danny read.

Max turned red.

“Max has a girlfriend. Max has a girlfriend,” the boys chanted.

“I do not.” Max tossed the chocolate to Danny’s desk. “I don’t even want it.”

“I’ll take it,” said one of the boys.

“No way. It’s on my desk.” Danny cupped his hands around it like a turtle shell.

Max pulled out his notebook, glad that they were all arguing over the chocolate and not teasing him anymore. He glanced up to make sure no one else was looking at him and saw Jacey looking at him from her desk across the room. She quickly looked away, without giving him her usual smile.

Max was sorry about more than the chocolate he didn’t get to taste.

 

Sixteen Years Old

Max helped himself to a third glass of punch from the heart-shaped bowl. He didn’t feel as awkward with something in his hands. Plastic cup filled, he went back to his spot against the wall and watched the rest of his high school swirl past in graceful moves and huge smiles. Among them was his date. Or at least the girl he’d asked and had said yes. He wasn’t sure if she was still his date or not, since after the first dance, she’d gone off to talk to some other guy. She hadn’t been back.

Max spotted his red-haired ex-date laughing as she dance with a tall boy. Was that the fifth or six different boy he’d seen her dance with?

He took another swig of the punch. It was too sweet. He headed toward a trashcan, deciding he would wait in the hall for the party to be over. At least he could count on his phone to keep him company.

Halfway to the trashcan, he bumped into someone and dripped some punch on their arm. Max apologized, thinking that this night couldn’t get any worse.

“It’s alright,” said a laughing voice. Max looked up and right into Jacey’s deep brown eyes.

“Oh, hi,” Max said lamely. They’d use to be close friends when they were little, but he wasn’t sure if she remembered.

“Care to get me a napkin.” She held up her punch-speckled arm.

Max hurried to the punch table and grabbed a handful of napkins. He spun around and almost knocked into her again when he found her standing right behind him. He apologized again, but she only laughed and took the napkins.

“Are you here by yourself?” she asked.

“No,” Max was quick to say. He didn’t want to look lame. “She’s over there.” He pointed to the red-haired girl that looked like there was nothing more fun than being apart from Max. He immediately wished he would said he was here by himself.

“You too?” she raise an eyebrow.

“What do you mean?”

She shrugged. “My date is a bit more enthusiastic about the whole dancing thing than I am. So he found someone equally enthralled with trying to impress the other with their amazing collection of movements.” She did a jerky movement that looked like a demon-possessed robot and Max laughed.

“I’m glad I’m not the only one at this thing that doesn’t like to dance,” Max said. “It’s too bad Valentine’s couldn’t stay like it when we were little. All we had to do was hand out cards and eat candy.”

“I’d take chocolate over loud music and vanishing dates any day.” She grinned. “You always gave out the best Valentines.”

“I did?” Max was surprised she even remembered his Valentine’s gifts. He was strangely pleased that she thought they were the best.

“They always had different kinds of candy in them. Like gummy bears and sour candies.”

Max grinned. “I’ll have to tell my mom that. She thought sour candy was all wrong for Valentine.”

Jacey grabbed his arm suddenly. “You know what we should do?” The curls in her hair bobbed as she did a little bounce. “We should go to the store and find some candy and Valentine’s cards—you know, the kind we gave out as kids.”

“For our dates?” Max asked, imagining the look he would get from the girl he came with if he tried to give her a kid Valentine card and gummies.

“Not them.” Jacey laughed. “For each other. Just for fun.”

Max tossed his punch in the trash. “I could use some candy.”

As Max wound through the crowd with Jacey by his side, he knew just what he’d get her. Sour gummies with a Snoopy card. And across the Snoopy he’d write: Happy Valentine’s Day. P.S. I think you cute.

snoopy-valentines-day-images-3

The Pact

7 years old

She looks like me. That was the first thing Tyler thought when he saw girl who was moving into the house next door. He wondered if she moved here straight from China or if her family had been in the U.S. for generations like his.

She was sitting on the porch steps, chin in her hands. She didn’t look very happy. For some reason, he wanted her to look up at him.

Tyler grabbed the scooter leaning against his house down his driveway then stopped at the street. He wasn’t allowed cross the line where the light cement of the driveway ended and the black pavement of the road began. But she was watching him now, and he didn’t want her to think he was a baby, so he crossed the line and let the wheels roll over the road.

He stopped when he reached the next driveway. Her driveway.

“Can I ride in your driveway?” he asked. She nodded and he scooted his way right up to her porch. He stopped in front of her.

“Did you just get here from China?” Then he remembered how every new kid at school would always ask him that and how it annoyed him, so he added, “Or has your family been here for generations? Mine has been here for four. I’ve never even been to China.”

She blinked at him. She probably wasn’t used to having people actually realize that just because she was Chinese didn’t mean she came from China.

He was sure she was impressed until she said, “I’m not Chinese.”

Now it was Tyler’s turn to blink. But she looked…Oh. “Japanese?”

She shook her head. “I’m from the Philippines.” She said words strangely. She had an accent.

To keep from feeling silly, he changed the subject. “I’m seven. How old are you?”

She brightened. “I’m seven too. That means I’ll be in your class at school right?”

“Yeah. I can show you the ropes.” He’d heard that phrase in a movie. It sounded cool.

“You will show me around?” She seemed confused. She probably didn’t know what “show you the ropes meant.”

“I’ll show you around and tell you everything you need to know,” Tyler explained, feeling important.

“Oh, good. I’ve never been to an American school before.”

Tyler remembered his fist day of school and how nervous he’d been. “We’ll make a pact,” he said, because he’d seen a boy and a girl make a pact in a movie once and always wanted to do it. “I’ll be your partner for everything that happens at school.”

“Ok,” the girl said.

“Shake on it?” Tyler asked, holding his hand out. That’s what the boy and girl did in the movie. The girl put her hand in his. He grinned, and she grinned back.

Tyler rode home on his scooter feeling very satisfied with himself.

Then he relized he didn’t know the girl’s name.

 

12 years old

“Marie!” Tyler called as he rushed down the hall, dodging the other kids to catch up with her. She turned around and smiled. She wore her hair differently and she wore different clothes, but that smile hadn’t changed since she was seven. Tyler was glad. It would be like changing the flavor of chocolate chip cookies. They didn’t need to be changed.

“I’m going to be in the talent show,” he said. “Want to be my partner?”

Marie’s face fell. “Amber just asked me.”

“Well, I’m sure she’ll understand. We’re always partners.” Ever since the day of their pact, they’d been partners for everything. The science projects in the third grade that got baking soda and vinegar all over Marie’s new shoes because Tyler wanted their volcano to have the biggest explosion. The fifth grade book report that was almost a disaster because Marie wanted to read Charlotte’s Web and Tyler wanted to read Bridge to Terabithia. Luckily, The  Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe saved the day. It had animals and magic.

“I already told her I’d do it with her,” Marie said. She no longer had the accent she had when she was seven.

“But we’re always partners,” Tyler said lamely.

“We can be partners with other people sometimes.” Marie looked apologetic.

Tyler paused, hoping she’d change her mind, but she didn’t say anything. He shrugged. “I guess I’ll find someone else.”

She smiled at him. That smile that didn’t change. Somehow it hurt to look at it.

 

17 years old

It hurt to watch Marie talking with the guy by her side. Laughing, smiling that killer smile of hers. He’d probably asked her out to the junior prom already. It shouldn’t bother Tyler. He was already taking someone.

Still, somehow he’d imagined taking Marie, even though they’d slowly drifted apart over the years. His family moved to a different neighborhood when he was in eighth grade, then came junior high and different class schedules. They still talked, but Tyler wasn’t sure it was enough to ask her to be his date.

He’d daydreamed about asking her. He’d even thought about reminding her of the pact they made when they were kids, but he wasn’t even sure if she remembered. He would end up looking stupid. So this morning, a day before the junior prom, he asked a girl in his math class that didn’t have anyone to go with. It was safe. His friends said she’d had a crush on him all year long. It wasn’t Marie, but at least he wouldn’t make a fool of himself by asking and getting turned down.

Tyler turned away from Marie and the annoying guy by her side and opened his locker. He pulled a notebook out and a folded piece of notebook paper fluttered to the floor.

Thinking it was some stray notes, he started to put it back in the notebook. Then he saw his name written on the front.

He’d seen that handwriting nearly everyday in Elementary and Middle School. He’d watched it change from block letters to the rounded ones that spelled out his name.

Marie’s handwriting.

He slowly unfolded it, feeling like he was unwrapping a Christmas present he’d waited all year to open.

 

Hey Tyler! 

I know it’s a bit late, but I was sort of hoping you’d get around to it first. Then I thought, “Why does it have to be the guy that does the asking?” I tried to think of a fancy way to do this, but then decided to keep it simple. You always did like to keep things simple (unless it’s a paper mache volcano). 

You can probably guess what I’m about to ask you, so I’ll just go ahead and say it. 

Will you go to the prom with me?

You can’t say no because you made a promise that you’d be my partner for anything school related. 😉 

Anxiously waiting your response,

Marie

 

Tyler grinned. She remembered the pact they’d made. He could have used it to ask her.

Then his smile dropped. Could have. He’d already asked someone else. It was too late.

Maybe he could get out of it. Maybe he could explain it to the girl he’d asked.

Explain what? That they’d made a pact when they where in second grade to always be partners in everything. That they hadn’t been partners for anything since they were twelve, but now all of a sudden it was important for him to go with Marie even though it meant rudely dumping the girl he’d asked?

He couldn’t do that, even if this was what he wanted. He would have to tell her that he was going with someone else.

Tyler’s stomach knotted at the thought. Never in all his daydreams did he have to turn Marie down.

He sighed and folded the note. Why hadn’t he just ask her? Why couldn’t she have asked him just a few hours earlier?

Maybe she’d waited so late because she was hoping someone else would ask her. Maybe she was only asking him because she didn’t want to go alone. What was that last line? You can’t say no because you made a promise that you’d be my partner for anything school related. What if she was only asking him because she knew he’d say yes? He was nothing but a back-up plan.

Well, he wouldn’t be a back-up plan. Hadn’t she been the one to say that they should have other partners?

Tyler shoved the note back in the locker and pretend he never saw it.

 

18 years old

Tyler hurried through the empty school halls. He’d left his jacket in one of the classrooms and hadn’t realized it until he’d stepped into the frided air. He was getting a ride home with one of his friends because his car hadn’t started that morning. First his car wouldn’t start, then the girl he asked to prom already had a date, then he forgot his jacket. What else could go wrong?

Tyler opened the classroom door. He froze.

Marie was sitting in one of the desks.

They hadn’t talked since last year when she’d slipped that note in his locker. Tyler felt so guilty about the whole thing, that he avoided her. It wasn’t hard to do. Tyler suspected she was avoiding him too. He wished he’d at least written a note back, explaining why he couldn’t take her. But the more time that went by, the more awkward it seemed to approach her.

As if the distance between them weren’t uncomfortable enough, Tyler could tell she’d been crying.

She quickly wiped her face and gave a weak smile. It made Tyler’s heart twist. It wasn’t her smile. It was like chocolate chip cookies without the chocolate chips.

“I forgot my jacket,” Tyler said, feeling the need to explain why he was invading her privacy.

“That one?” She pointed to the jacket hanging over the back of the desk right in front of her. Of course it would be right next to her. It couldn’t be right by the door so he could grab it and leave.

He made his way over there, keeping his eyes focused on the jacket as if it would dissapear if he lost sight of it for even a second. He felt he should say something, but didn’t know what. It was her business. Whatever he said would probably make it worse anyway.

Marie stood and scooped her backpack up from the floor, getting ready to leave. By then he was already in her row and just a couple of steps away from his jacket. She picked it up and held it out to him.

His fingers brushed the tips of hers as he took it. His stomach fluttered.

He realized that he was standing there, blocking her way, but instead of moving he said, “Are you alright?”

Marie shrugged. “I’m fine. Just a rough day.”

She wasn’t fine. She looked like she did after the goldfish he’d won at a fair for her died and her mom flushed it down the toilet. “It wasn’t such a great day for me either,” Tyler said.

“Can’t be that bad,” she said. “Unless you got dumped too.”

Dumped? She’d been with that guy since Christmas. All that time together and he broke up with her a week before prom? The jerk. She deserved better than that. “My car would start this morning.”

She laughed. The sound made Tyler grin.

“I think I’d rather take a stubborn car than a brake up right now,” she said. The smile faded and she sighed. “I guess I just don’t have luck with these things.”

“Yes you do. I mean you should. I mean he’s the unlucky one. Who wouldn’t want to go to prom with you?”

“Quite a few people actually,” she said, sharply. Then she looked down as if she hadn’t meant to say that.

Tyler couldn’t help but think she was talking about him. It’s not as if that note could have gotten lost in a little locker. He would have seen it eventually. She probably wondered why he never brought it up, even after the prom was over, to explain. It didn’t help that he’d avoided her. Of course she was mad at him.

“I should go,” Marie said, hinting that he should move. But he didn’t. He couldn’t let this opportunity go. What were the chances  that he would run into her right after that jerk broke up with her, and before someone else asked her? Tyler silently thanked the girl who’d turned him down earlier.

“I have to tell you something,” he blurted. “I saw the note you left in my locker–”

“I know you did,” she said. “I was walking by you as you reached your locker. I looked back as you opened it up.”

Tyler swallowed. He remembered her walking by, but he didn’t know she’d seen him.  “I’m sorry.  I’d already asked someone else and didn’t know how to tell you.”

She shrugged. “It doesn’t matter. Junior Prom is over.” She smiled. Another smile that wasn’t hers.

“It does matter. I should have told you. I shouldn’t have let all this time go by without explaining.”

She shrugged again. “People get crushes on people who don’t like them back all the time. It’s just one of those things. We don’t have to make things awkward.”

He grinned on the inside. She had a crush on him. Then the feeling faded. She had a crush on him last year before he’d ruined his chance with her. What did she think of him now?

She took a step forward, as if to make Tyler get out of her way.

He didn’t move. She was standing so close. “Yes,” he said.

“What?” She looked up at him, startled.

“I’m answering your note.” Tyler’s heart beat. She’d probably slap him. “I’ll take you to prom. If you’ll go with me.”

She raised her eyebrows. “Are you trying to be funny?”

“We made a pact. We’d always be partners for anything that happened at school. So, it may have taken me awhile, but I’m making good on that pact.”

“You don’t have to ask me to prom because of a promise we made when we were kids.”

“That’s not why I’m asking you.”

“You don’t have to ask me out because you didn’t answer my silly note.”

“That’s not why–”

“I hope you aren’t asking me because you feel sorry for me because my stupid boyfriend dumped me right before prom.”

Tyler smiled. It had been a while since he’d talked with her. It was nice to hear her voice again. Even if she was a bit mad.

“What?” Marie asked.

“I’m asking you because I like you.”

Marie smiled. She smiled her smile.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Tyler smiled at god and said i will repent from not respecting maries dision and god said marie has a crash on the other pirson and tyler was jelous to be continud

P.S. I Think You’re Cute

Six Years Old

Max saved the best Valentine’s for last. He’d already given out the rest of the little bags of candy to his classmates, but the one still in his hand was better than those. It had a mini Hershey chocolate among the gummy bears.

He walked to Jacey, who was bent over digging in her purple backpack and tapped her shoulder. Her dark pigtails swished as she turned. The red ribbons she had tied in each one reminded Max of cherry Twizzlers.

“Here,” Max said, holding out the bag of candy.

She took it and swooped back into her backpack. “I have yours.” She came up holding a square card with a picture of Snoopy surrounded by hearts attached to a tiny bag of heart-shaped candies. The gross kind that taste like chalk.

“Thanks,” Max said. Not because he was really glad to get the candies, but because it was the thing to say when someone gave you something.

Jacey frowned. “It doesn’t have a card with it,” she said peering into the clear plastic bag. The bag, much to Max’s embarrassment, had red and pink hearts all over it. He’d wanted plain bags, but his mother insisted on the one the ones with hearts to make up for his un-valentine’s-day-like candy of gummy bears.

“But it has chocolate,” Max said. Which was more than she could say for her gift.

“Yeah, but it’s more fun when there’s a card too,” she said, swishing one of her pigtails over her shoulder. “Then I can keep them on my dresser and look at them.”

Max couldn’t see why anyone would want to keep a bunch of cards with pictures of cartoon characters that said “Be mine” on them. “You can put the candy on your dresser,” he tried.

She shook her head, making her pigtails swirl around her shoulders. “Candy isn’t pretty. You eat candy. The cards are cute.”

Max shrugged, not sure how he could argue with a girl about what was pretty or not. Next Valentine’s Day, he would get her a bag of candy and a card.

 

Ten Years Old

There was a large Hershey bar sitting on his desk when he got to class. Max wasn’t surprised. It was Valentine’s day, so that was normal. But the note on the back wasn’t normal. Unfortunately, Max didn’t get to read it first.

“You got a whole chocolate bar?” asked Danny in the desk next to him as he snatched the bar from his hands. “Hey there’s a love note on the back of it.”

“It’s not a love note,” Max said, though he had no idea what it said.

“Yeah it is.” Danny held it away so Max couldn’t reach it. “It says, ‘Happy Valentine’s Day. P.S. I think you are cute.’” He read it loudly so the kids nearby could hear.

“Who would think you’re cute, Danny?” asked one of the boys behind Max.

“Eww, it’s not mine,” Danny said. “It’s his.” Danny gave the chocolate back to Max. He flipped it over, hoping that Danny was making it up, but there was a square valentine with a picture of Snoopy. Scrawled over the Snoopy were the exact words Danny read.

Max turned red.

“Max has a girlfriend. Max has a girlfriend,” the boys chanted.

“I do not.” Max tossed the chocolate to Danny’s desk. “I don’t even want it.”

“I’ll take it,” said one of the boys.

“No way. It’s on my desk.” Danny cupped his hands around it like a turtle shell.

Max pulled out his notebook, glad that they were all arguing over the chocolate and not teasing him anymore. He glanced up to make sure no one else was looking at him and saw Jacey looking at him from her desk across the room. She quickly looked away, without giving him her usual smile.

Max was sorry about more than the chocolate he didn’t get to taste.

 

Sixteen Years Old

Max helped himself to a third glass of punch from the heart-shaped bowl. He didn’t feel as awkward with something in his hands. Plastic cup filled, he went back to his spot against the wall and watched the rest of his high school swirl past in graceful moves and huge smiles. Among them was his date. Or at least the girl he’d asked and had said yes. He wasn’t sure if she was still his date or not, since after the first dance, she’d gone off to talk to some other guy. She hadn’t been back.

Max spotted his red-haired ex-date laughing as she dance with a tall boy. Was that the fifth or six different boy he’d seen her dance with?

He took another swig of the punch. It was too sweet. He headed toward a trashcan, deciding he would wait in the hall for the party to be over. At least he could count on his phone to keep him company.

Halfway to the trashcan, he bumped into someone and dripped some punch on their arm. Max apologized, thinking that this night couldn’t get any worse.

“It’s alright,” said a laughing voice. Max looked up and right into Jacey’s deep brown eyes.

“Oh, hi,” Max said lamely. They’d use to be close friends when they were little, but he wasn’t sure if she remembered.

“Care to get me a napkin.” She held up her punch-speckled arm.

Max hurried to the punch table and grabbed a handful of napkins. He spun around and almost knocked into her again when he found her standing right behind him. He apologized again, but she only laughed and took the napkins.

“Are you here by yourself?” she asked.

“No,” Max was quick to say. He didn’t want to look lame. “She’s over there.” He pointed to the red-haired girl that looked like there was nothing more fun than being apart from Max. He immediately wished he would said he was here by himself.

“You too?” she raise an eyebrow.

“What do you mean?”

She shrugged. “My date is a bit more enthusiastic about the whole dancing thing than I am. So he found someone equally enthralled with trying to impress the other with their amazing collection of movements.” She did a jerky movement that looked like a demon-possessed robot and Max laughed.

“I’m glad I’m not the only one at this thing that doesn’t like to dance,” Max said. “It’s too bad Valentine’s couldn’t stay like it when we were little. All we had to do was hand out cards and eat candy.”

“I’d take chocolate over loud music and vanishing dates any day.” She grinned. “You always gave out the best Valentines.”

“I did?” Max was surprised she even remembered his Valentine’s gifts. He was strangely pleased that she thought they were the best.

“They always had different kinds of candy in them. Like gummy bears and sour candies.”

Max grinned. “I’ll have to tell my mom that. She thought sour candy was all wrong for Valentine.”

Jacey grabbed his arm suddenly. “You know what we should do?” The curls in her hair bobbed as she did a little bounce. “We should go to the store and find some candy and Valentine’s cards—you know, the kind we gave out as kids.”

“For our dates?” Max asked, imagining the look he would get from the girl he came with if he tried to give her a kid Valentine card and gummies.

“Not them.” Jacey laughed. “For each other. Just for fun.”

Max tossed his punch in the trash. “I could use some candy.”

As Max wound through the crowd with Jacey by his side, he knew just what he’d get her. Sour gummies with a Snoopy card. And across the Snoopy he’d write: Happy Valentine’s Day. P.S. I think you cute.

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The Color of Roses

The color of roses—the color of love. The color of danger.  I didn’t see the danger though. My color red couldn’t be anything dangerous.  Blue may have been the color of depth and stability, but red was the color of passion.

I was wearing a red dress the day we met. He had a cherry-colored handkerchief in his suit pocket.  The matching colors proved our destiny to be together.  We danced the whole night, seeing no one but each other. The respectful gentleman in blue was ignored.  We were witty, we were clever.  Our words danced along with our bodies and swirled around as gracefully as our feet.

The dance did not end our clever banter. We met the next day.  He gave me a brilliant red rose.  I tucked it into my hair for the world to see, the blue violets received the day before, forgotten.   The next day when we met he gave me two roses, and the third day three.  He never stopped his profession of love for me.  Ruby roses filled my thoughts.

There was never a dull moment when we were together. We laughed hysterically, fought passionately, and teased mercilessly. My calm, stable blue sea had been replaced by a raging red fire.   We made a silly pact to always wear something red; a ribbon, a scarf, a waist coat.  It was our way of declaring to the world that we were in love.

There was something missing. Something inside me that was not filled by the fiery whirlwind that we created when we were together. My head filled with a steadfast indigo pond, and steady, meaningful conversation. A voice inside reminded me of the deep closeness my heart had known before that crimson flame came into my life, but I ignored it.  We were meant to be together.  We both wore red.

The days went by, and people talked. They said that we were the perfect couple, that we would soon be married.  My family stanchly rejected that idea, and forbid me to ever see the man in red again.  I ignored them and found ways to meet with him as often as I could. I was compelled to see him.  My clear, tranquil blue sky turned red.

Red became our symbol.  He would leave his crimson handkerchief on the door knob of a room he was in at a party.  I set out a bouquet of scarlet roses in the window when my parents were away.  Red meant we could see each other for a few stolen minutes.  Neither one of us stopped wearing the color.  As long as it was on our person, we were still in love.

The game was daring and exciting, but there was still something inside of me that longed for something else. The conversations held were witty and charming, but lacked true connection.  They were red—full of emotion, full of fire.  Full of warning.  Where was the blue filled with trust, loyalty, and wisdom?

A pale blue envelope arrived announcing a wedding. Not the wedding of the passionate red lovers, but of another.  My steady, loyal friend, whom I had shared a deep trust and closeness that I shared with no other, was to be married to another.  How blind I had been by the consuming wall of scarlet fire that I neglected to notice just how deeply I longed for that steady blue sea that called out to me.

Was love red, filled with passion and emotion—or was love blue, filled with trust and understanding? I discovered too late that real love wasn’t secret escapades and swirling emotions, but quiet trust and steadfast loyalty.  I was distracted for a moment by a flash of red, and missed the whole heavens filled with quiet, reassuring blue.

I saw a red handkerchief hanging on a door knob. I walked by without pausing.  I took the apple-colored ribbon from my hair and let it fall to the floor.  I was no longer wearing red.

———————————

 So, this is the group of words responsible for Red, Blue, White, and Black. I wrote this a few years ago and left it sitting in a word document somewhere.  When I rediscovered it, I though I was just going to edit it a little and than put it on my blog.  But stories have a mind of their own, and before I knew it, I had a whole series of stories from “editing” this little piece.

Click to read

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White

White was only for the girls in their prim blue gowns and shiny pearl necklaces.  There may have been a time when I coveted their cobalt cloth and the pearls that signaled their purity, but I knew my color.

Blue cloth filed passed me with quickened steps, careful not to look at the brazen red creature on the other side of the street.  Some brave souls turned their eyes to my ruby lips, reddened cheeks, and burning red dress.  Their faces filled with revulsion.  I looked haughtily back at them, but inside I was disgraced.  The color of violence, the color of lust: that was my color.

The man’s white waistcoat sharply contrasted against his midnight blue suit, but it wasn’t what he was wearing that made me notice him.  It was that he was on my side of the street.  No one who wore blue walked on this side.  This corner was claimed by red.

I waited for his haughty look as all the other wearers of blue gave me, but it didn’t come.  Instead, his sapphire eyes were filled with something I couldn’t describe.  It made me vulnerable.

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The man in the white waistcoat came again the next day.  He tried to talk to me but my sharp tones and cold looks soon ended his attempt.  Blue was not to be trusted, and white was a reminder of all I’d lost.  Red had no place with either color.

I thought I’d never see him again, but I saw his piercing blue gaze every day.  He was immune to my briskness and the looks the other wearers of blue gave him.  Slowly, my guard came down and the color of sapphires crept into my heart.

A white rose was in his hand.  He held it out to me.  Crimson anger surged through me.  How dare he remind me of what I wasn’t.  He told me it didn’t matter to him how much red I wore.  To him, I was worthy of white. I threw the rose into the dusty street.    White was purity I didn’t have.  White was a stab of pain.

Thoughts of a dark blue suit filled my mind as I reddened my lips for the night.  The snow colored rose burned in my mind as hands groped where they shouldn’t.  Red was passion that deadened my heart.  White was hope.

Rain soaked my scarlet dress as I ran down the streets.  I ignored the looks of disgust on the faces of the blue wearing men and pearl wearing women.  Red was killing me.  Only blue could save me. Only white could make me worthy of love.

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I stood frozen before the large sky blue house.  It wasn’t the muddied hem of my dress or the wet hair that hung in my face that stopped me from going in.  It was the color I wore and all it represented that halted my steps.  I was red.  I was shame.

The door opened and the man in the white waistcoat came out.  He rushed into the rain and wrapped me in his arms.  Then he placed a white rose in my hair. He wanted us to be together forever.  I asked him how he could love a wearer of red.

He told me that in his eyes, I’d always worn white.

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Want more stories in this world? You got it!

Red blue

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(click to read)

 

 

Red

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Red–the color of roses, the color of love. It was also the color of danger.  I didn’t see the danger though. My color red couldn’t be anything dangerous.  Blue may have been the color of depth and purpose, but red was the color of passion and excitement.

The night we met, he was wearing red.  Right away I was intrigued. Red was a color I had rarely seen.  I was told the color wasn’t safe, but he assured me that it not only harmless but enlightening.  The color red was superior to blue.  He held out a scarlet ribbon, and I discarded my blue one so it could take its place.  Red was filled with possibilities.

We danced the whole night.    I saw no one but him.  The respectful gentleman in blue was ignored.  We were witty, we were clever.  Our words danced along with our bodies and swirled around as gracefully as our feet.

The dance did not end our clever banter.  We met the next day and he gave me a brilliant red rose.  I tucked it into my hair for the world to see, the sapphire roses received the day before lay forgotten.   The next day he gave me two roses and the third day three.  He never stopped his profession of love for me.  Red roses filled my thoughts.

I tried to get my friends to come with me to see my rose giving man of red, but they stanchly rejected the idea and told me blue was a much safer color.  I laughed at them.  Blue was safe, but red was thrilling.

Time passed and my calm, stable blue sea was replaced by a raging fire.   I was never seen without the color red on my person. It was my declaration to the world that I was unashamedly his.   My clear, tranquil blue sky turned red.

There was something missing—something inside me that was not filled by the fiery whirlwind created by this new fascination.  My head filled with a vast blue ocean I use to know—a memory of something deeper.   A voice inside reminded me of the deep closeness my heart had known before that crimson flame came into my life, but I ignored it.  I was devoted to the man in red.

He took me places I never would have gone, and together we did things I never would have dreamed of doing.  The game I played was daring and exciting, but soon it was more than I could control.  Soon there was no color left but red, and my world was consumed in a scarlet whirlwind.  The roses wilted and died, and all that was left were thorns which pricked my skin and drew glistening drops of crimson.  The color that held such allure was now my pain, my prison.   Through my shame, I felt intense blue eyes watching.

A pale blue envelope—I thought I had lost it.  It held a letter from the one whom I had loved before I was swept away in a scarlet frenzy.  As I read, I realized I would give anything to wear the color blue again.  I was reminded of how selflessly the one in blue loved me.   How blind I had been by the consuming rush of red that I neglected to notice just how deeply I longed for that steady blue sea that called out to me.   The letter gave me hope that I may wear blue again.

Red is the color of roses.  It is also the color of lies. My color is no longer red.

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Liked this? There are more!

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In honor of Valentine’s Day, I will be posting a story like this every week.  You’ll get more of the red and blue world! 🙂