Excerpt from Incomplete
Silent, smooth, and undefined, he slipped beside me, the two of us watching the horizon and the navy sky, dotted with starlight and swaying under the breeze. In the same way that chocolate nestles down slowly and sweetly on the taste buds, or like a crisp spring morning drifts dew over the dawn, he slid his right arm around me, pulling me close. Satin brushed against cotton and hope dashed against the rough breakwater of changing tides.
“Against my own rules, the other day I allowed in the thought about what losing you would feel like,” Tucker said. “Those monsters hovering over you were a greater risk than the Commander’s orders. Holding you in my arms after you fell, motionless,” he shook his head. “That was the flip of the switch.”
Several clouds meandered overhead, blocking out starlight and passing by, finally clearing out again, and I could once again accept oxygen into my lungs. Letting a smile tease my lips, a rosy glow burned across my cheeks.
“I'm terribly challenged in the area of accepting someone loving me,” I admitted. “I have buckets of love. But they’ve been boxed up, packed away, and I don't know how to carry them."
He turned to me, his eyes glinting in the light, probably imagining my struggle with big gray metal sand castle buckets.
"Well, that's convenient," he answered, somehow moving closer, arms circling, tightening around my waist, until we faced each other. "I have pretty strong arms. I'd be pleased to help you carry them."
Somewhere, innocent lips blew the wispy seeds from a dandelion bud, somewhere passionate lips sputtered rhetoric and jargon, and somewhere else, lips dripped with lies and temptation. But his smoldered.
Interview on KOXE 101.3
Carl Wayne sat down with me and we chatted about Insurrection and Incomplete! Listen here for a few minutes of fun and reminiscing!