That’s right, today’s writing exercise is simple: write a romance. In fifteen to twenty minutes! Any part of the romance. Hence, the title of this post. Am I going to write a Harlequin romance? I don’t think so, but I really don’t know. I just want to give it a try.
Yep, gonna write a romance. Gonna start… now.
Jonah’s life ended. His heart stopped. Seconds, each the length of a lifetime, passed in the fuzzy blur of memory. The asphalt jogging path under his sneakered feet instantly became a road to a fate that he had stopped imagining more than a decade ago.
It was her eyes. From thirty feet away, they glowed in the shimmering dawn.
A beat. His heart began to show life. How it could have gone from a steady 165 to 0 instantaneously, he didn’t understand. But now, life. A changed world. He hadn’t believed in years, but he was a re-convert, a born again disciple.
She neared the place he had stopped. He stood transfixed. She clearly noticed his gaze, that he couldn’t tear his eyes away. She slowed. In less than a second, Jonah saw surprise, confusion, sudden fear, consideration, careful examination and a decision pass across her face.
She stopped. “What are you looking at?”
He opened his mouth. No words came. He didn’t know how to start, what to say. His throat tight, his heart suddenly hammering in his chest, sweat pearling on his forehead then sliding down his cheeks, he stood mute.
She cocked her head, studying Jonah. “Excuse me, but is something wrong?”
Jonah tasted the salty residue on his lips. Why couldn’t he say anything? This was the moment! The world had changed and he was being a moron! He deliberately blinked, breaking contact with those blazing green eyes. He knew them better than anything else he had ever known: on the yellow side of hazel, brown motes, dark green rim around the iris.
She took a breath, half-turning to move away. She shook her head, muttering, “What is it with men in this town?”
As she took her first step and leaned back into her jog, Jonah took control of his body and gave it a mental shake. He had to say something! “Wait!”
She paused, turned back. “He speaks!”
“Don’t.” Jonah swallowed hard. Thirty two years old and he could only speak single syllable words? Yes but… sixteen years… a failed marriage and career… a daughter… “Brenda?”
Now she turned completely back to face Jonah. She stepped closer, her amazing eyes searching his eyes, then his face.
Silence like heavy mist filled the space between them. She seemed to see something in him and stood up straight, shock spreading across her face. The silence expanded, filling the world and infusing the moment with a sensation of the last piece of a puzzle finding its place.
She opened her mouth, but seemed to be struggling for words. Jonah stepped closer. “Brenda. It’s… it’s you, isn’t it?”
Her voice saying his name triggered something in him. His body shook with the feeling. Sweat dried on his forehead as his eyes seemed to overflow with the fire in him that ignited with the sound of her voice.
“Yeah. It’s me,” Jonah said. “And you… you’re here.”
She nodded, her arms wrapping tightly around her torso. “How is this possible?”
He shook his head. “I don’t know.” Hope blazed, then flickered. He realized that he hadn’t seen her hands yet. He glanced down. Her left hand was hidden.
She saw where he was looking. She extended her left hand. “No ring.”
Relief filled him. He wanted to… didn’t know if he should… No. This was… destiny or fate.. or just the universe correcting a sixteen year old glitch.
He found her eyes with his gaze. A laugh burst out of him, pushed by relief and the shock of the last few moments.
Somehow, in the space between solitude and completion, she was against him, her arms wrapped around him, her body trembling. Standing on that jogging path, he held her, willing the warm, tight moment to last forever. Wishing the morning that began with french toast with his daughter would last for the rest of eternity.
Okay, time’s up. Hmm… that was interesting. Don’t know where that came from, but I’m kind of excited to see where it’s going.
I really don’t do romances, so that was fun. Any thoughts?
Hmm… maybe that’s more confusing than cryptic and teaser-like.
Your story start draws us in . . . .
Happy birthday, by the way.
That was a good writing exercise, and the good start to a story.