Work in progress includes more than just writing the book–what about everything else: the beta readers, editing, alpha readers, copy editors, revisions, marketing efforts, marketing plans…there’s so much that is involved in publishing a book. This week I have been working on the edits for Flawed Perfection. Here’s a sneak at the new first chapter–but not the whole thing!
I yawned as I closed my laptop and blinked at the television clock – 10:00 PM – I hadn’t even eaten yet. I began to stand, but dropped back down on the couch when I heard the giggle from across the hall; it was accompanied by a laugh I knew all too well, and the slam of the door. I sank deeper into the cushions as my mind drifted back to another night filled with his laughter…
My eyes open at the sound. Someone was throwing a rock against my bedroom window. I shot up in bed and looked around the pitch black room lit only by the hot pink comforter as the sound hit again. Mom had to take my night light today of all days when there wasn’t even a moon outside. There it was again, and it was definitely a rock. I slipped out of bed and went to the window.
There hanging in the tree next to my window was Adam and in his hand was a glowing jar.
I slowly lifted the window so it wouldn’t squeak. “What the heck are you doing?”
“I heard your mom made you get rid of the night light,” Adam replied, shoving the jar into my hands.
I took it and narrowed my eyes at him as he swung in the window.
“Who told you that?” I asked. I was glad the room was now only dimly lit by the glowing jar so he couldn’t see my pink cheeks.
“Bobby, who else?”
“What a jerk!” I huffed.
Adam shrugged as he pulled two other jars from his backpack. “I couldn’t fit them all in. I didn’t realize how hard it was to climb a tree with one arm.”
“What’s in these?” I asked as Adam set them on the ground and the room began to dance with the light.
“Fireflies,” he replied, and his thin lips turned into that crooked smile.
“You put what in these?” I hissed at him, stepping forward.
Adam’s brow furrowed over his face.
“I spent an hour catching fireflies for you,” he repeated and I watched as his throat rose and fell as he swallowed. “Don’t worry—I poked holes in the top.”
He moved closer to me so I could smell his cologne—the one I’d bought him for his sixteenth birthday a few days earlier. I tried to hide the deep breath I took of him as he moved my fingers across the metal top so I could feel the holes he’d poked.
He smirked at me again with his fingers still over mine. I could feel the calluses from playing guitar—ones I’d felt a thousand times before as he leaned over me and tried his best to teach me how to strum. “You know I’d never hurt your precious fairies, Riv.”
COPYRIGHT, 2014 CASSANDRA GIOVANNI