I just released The Best Bite last week. It’s my first foray into young adult romance. Here’s a snippet. Let me know what you think. In this scene Peada has Bastien over for dinner. When she’s cleaning up the kitchen later they share some serious confidences…
“Do you need help?” He asked, watching her empty the dish drainer of clean dishes as the sink filled up with water.
“Why don’t you use the dishwasher?”
She shrugged. “I dunno. We only use it when we have parties. We probably don’t even have soap for it.”
He laughed. “Well, I suppose that’s a good reason not to use it then.”
She grinned. “Why were you asking me if I believe in the unexplained?”
He cleared his throat and shrugged, leaning back against the sink with his arms folded over his chest. “Curious, I guess.” There was a pause, but she said nothing to fill the silence. “You seemed awfully certain when you said yes. What makes you so sure?”
Peada washed and rinsed three plates before she answered. Don’t do it, girl. Don’t go there. It’s a mistake. You don’t need the headache. He’s just gonna think you’re nuts, and you’ll have to see him every weekday at school, looking at you like you’re a crazy person.
“I know that supernatural creatures exist because I’m one of them.”
Good grief, what on earth possessed her to blurt that out like that? Now shaking with nerves, Peada forced herself to keep washing the dishes even when a spoon slipped from her grasp and splashed in the water. She was too freaked out to look up. What must he be thinking right now? Probably that she was a lunatic. Say something! But for the life of her she couldn’t think of a thing to say. Unless of course she just blurted out that she was a vampire.
Heck. At the rate she was going, next she’d tell him when she got her first period, how she’d cried like a baby the first time her mother didn’t make it home for her birthday, oh, and how attractive she found him for good measure.
She could tell by his stance that he was waiting for her to go on – perhaps laugh the way a normal person would after telling a joke – but all she could do in that moment was wash that ridiculous ice cream spoon.
“What are you, a witch?” he asked, joking. He’d know if she was a witch. His father told him he’d be able to tell instinctively when he was in the company of others who could wield magic. The vibes he got from her had nothing to do with the craft and everything to do with completely natural human stuff.
“No, a vampire.”
Peada didn’t know what she expected him to do, but when he burst out laughing, she laughed too. In relief that he so obviously didn’t believe her.
“A vampire? Well, that’s good then, since I am a witch. I wonder is there any taboo in us being friends?”
Her startled eyes met his. “What? You’re a witch? Yeah, right. Where the heck did that come from?”
He shrugged. “You don’t swear,” he said suddenly. It was an excellent diversionary tactic to get her off the topic of witches. Any farther with this “joke” and neither of them would be laughing.
“You like that I’m a square?” she teased.
“Very much. Sometimes it’s weird to hear bad words come out of a feminine mouth. Do you think that’s chauvinistic?”
“That you think swearing isn’t ladylike?” She shrugged. “No, I think that’s your preference. One I happen to agree with, except I don’t think they sound good coming out of anyone’s mouth. With the possible exception of comedians. Then it’s usually hilarious.”
He chuckled softly and sighed.
“What’s wrong? Feeling the urge to cast spells on someone?” She teased.
“Oh, that I could,” he muttered, straightening up and dropping down into one of the kitchen chairs.
Peada quickly finished the dishes and hurriedly wiped the counters and stove top. She rinsed and wrung out the dishrag and draped it over the sink divider to dry as she eyed him. He was pouting.
“What’s wrong with you? I’ve never seen you like this. If something’s wrong you can tell me, you know. I can keep a secret, and I’m an excellent listener,” she smiled, bumping his shoulder with her hip. “Here, let me get you a drink to loosen your tongue.”
She turned away to open the refrigerator and pulled out a can of ginger ale. She turned back to ask if he wanted a glass and gasped, the can falling from her hand.
Bastien had raised a hand, perhaps to gesture or tell her something, and fire shot from his fingers. But before the pop can could hit the ground, it stopped, hovering above the tile before floating across the room to land in his outstretched hand.
Peada’s mouth gaped. Her finger pointed. Her shocked eyes met his. “You, you – you really are a witch,” she whispered…