Post by VAMPYR on Aug 30, 2009 7:43:49 GMT -5
Im writing a story or book or whatever you want to call it. I have just finished the first chapter and plan to keep updating regularly. It's called City Walk and it is about a woman that falls in love with two guys and doesnt know where her life is going. Hope you like
My day had been going unusually well.
I had been sitting on one side of the stone table while he sat on the other. It was just about sundown; I could tell because of the elaborate window behind Troy.
Today was the day the Troy decided to take me out in several months. Troy and I had been dating since last year, and ever since I moved to Manhattan the only communication we had was through text. A few weeks ago he texted me saying that he was planning on surprising me for my birthday.
Despite my upcoming birthday, my day had been going unusually well.
I hated my birthday. It couldn’t be on a worse day. Today was December thirty-first, and at midnight my twenty-first year of life would be official. Yeah, my birthday was on New Year’s day: which of course meant tomorrow was it.
“So what do you want for your birthday tomorrow?” Troy asked. He absently picked at his grilled garlic chicken breast as he looked at me and talked softly.
“I told you that I didn’t want anything.” And I meant it. “I absolutely hate my birthday. Nothing can make me feel differently.” I could tell Troy was about to say something like “what about me” or “I’m not good enough, or something?”, so I quickly continued. “But of course you being here is all I want anyway.”
His momentary painful look morphed into a smirk.
“I’ll take you out tomorrow,” he insisted.
“But we’re out right now,” I reminded him. I twisted the lettuce in my Caesar salad and then set down my fork.
“Come on. You live in New York City and you hardly ever go out.”
I suddenly felt like I was a mean, rich girl when I tugged on the collar of my leather Louis Vuitton jacket and shrugged my shoulders.
“So you went to a boutique, so what? You need to see like the Empire State Building or something.”
“Who cares about that stuff?” It was more of a statement than a question. “The reason I came to New York is because my grandmother lives in Soho and for the designer stores.” The last part was a mumble.
He got really serious and I regretted saying that. “So you came here to buy stuff. Not like you don’t have enough stuff though, right?”
I put my hand on top of his. This reminded me how small I was compared to his burly, muscular figure. “I saw the Empire State Building yesterday…” …While I was driving to Gucci… I left out.
Suddenly the subject was changed. “So where do you want to go after dinner?” he asked.
“Troy, I have enough of my own money. You down have to spend all of yours on me.”
“I work at an attorney’s office, Kat,” he reminded me.
I wanted to argue with him, but he was right. I only had money because of my job at Java’s and because of my dead step-father’s inheritance.
“How about Java’s?” I suggested.
“Um, how about somewhere where you don’t get an employee’s discount?”
I pretended like I was thinking as I chewed on some of my salad. Only then did I realize I had ordered it with no croutons, and, sure enough, I was chewing on a garlicky cube.
I swallowed slowly.
“Then how about Central Park?” I asked after a few silent moments.
“Will do.” He smiled.
Troy finished the last few bites of his chicken and asparagus as the waitress walked over to our table and placed the bill between out plates.
“Take as long as you need,” she said.
“Thank you.” It was odd how somebody as nice and polite as Troy would be with a girl like me: self-centered and egotistical.
I stabbed some more lettuce as he wrote down on the receipt and dug in his wallet for his credit card.
“Nice wallet,” I said snidely, gesturing with my chin to his very expensive looking Gucci wallet.
“Nice jacket,” he spat back.
I felt like a moron as I continued eating and he just watched me silently.
“I love your eyes,” he said.
I wanted to roll them but reminded myself that that was the one thing he was looking at.
“Please,” I said after swallowing. “Blue isn’t that interesting.”
“But it is rare to see them on a brunette.”
“Now my hair? Brown is the ugliest color ever.” I felt horrible for my credit card after I reminded myself that I paid for my hair to be brown with black low-lights.
“You’re right. I’m sorry…” I, stupidly, thought he was finished. “…you’re just overall a very beautiful woman.”
This was one of those very common times that Troy felt too good for me. Or, more commonly, a time that I felt I wasn’t good enough for him. I felt small (metaphorically) to him. He was a really good looking guy. He had the prettiest hazel eyes and dark blonde hair. And I loved how his square jaw was always perfectly shaved.
I looked down at my plate feeling completely self-conscious. “Right,” I mumbled.
Again, the subject was quickly changed. “Not to rush you,” he politely started off. “but are you almost finished?”
I felt really bad when I looked at my only half-eaten plate. I knew this place what really expensive and I didn’t even want to look at the taunting numbers on the receipt.
Troy’s words echoed through my skull: I work at an attorney’s office.
“Yeah,” I said as I set my fork down in the center of the plate.
I felt his eyes on me as I dug in my purse. I felt the leather pouch full of tens and twenties and pulled out two twenties and stuffed the corners under the elaborate vase in the center of the stone table. I thought forty was a very generous tip, especially considering that they put croutons in my salad.
I knew Troy was up to something when he didn’t tell me not to worry about it, that he would take care of the tip, but I ignored the awkward sense.
I hadn’t noticed the waitress come by and pick up the receipt, but she walked over and returned Troy’s credit card.
“I hope you enjoyed your evening here,” the waitress said.
“Thank you. We have,” I said. I felt like I hadn’t been talking much so I thanked the waitress as kindly as I could.
“Thank you for your service,” Troy said as he gently shook the woman’s hand. Then he stood up after she walked away. “And thank you for staying the entire meal.”
Troy held my hand as I worked my way out of the booth. I grabbed my brown beanie from my purse and then I zipped it back up and hoisted the straps over my shoulder. “Well thank you for taking me here.” I wiggled the hat over my head.
We were almost to the glass doors when he said, “Um, just a minute, I forgot my wallet.”
I felt lonely when he wasn’t holding my hand. He tried to be sneaky, but I saw him take the forty from under the vase and stuff it inside his jacket pocket. I couldn’t help but smile to myself.
He returned with a smile on his face and he grabbed my hand again.
“I think we’re all set now,” he said.
“Yeah,” I said. “I hope forty was a big enough tip.”
I turned towards the door and pulled him behind me, not letting him see the gigantic smile on my face.
Tell me what you think.
GaGa~Vampyr
My day had been going unusually well.
I had been sitting on one side of the stone table while he sat on the other. It was just about sundown; I could tell because of the elaborate window behind Troy.
Today was the day the Troy decided to take me out in several months. Troy and I had been dating since last year, and ever since I moved to Manhattan the only communication we had was through text. A few weeks ago he texted me saying that he was planning on surprising me for my birthday.
Despite my upcoming birthday, my day had been going unusually well.
I hated my birthday. It couldn’t be on a worse day. Today was December thirty-first, and at midnight my twenty-first year of life would be official. Yeah, my birthday was on New Year’s day: which of course meant tomorrow was it.
“So what do you want for your birthday tomorrow?” Troy asked. He absently picked at his grilled garlic chicken breast as he looked at me and talked softly.
“I told you that I didn’t want anything.” And I meant it. “I absolutely hate my birthday. Nothing can make me feel differently.” I could tell Troy was about to say something like “what about me” or “I’m not good enough, or something?”, so I quickly continued. “But of course you being here is all I want anyway.”
His momentary painful look morphed into a smirk.
“I’ll take you out tomorrow,” he insisted.
“But we’re out right now,” I reminded him. I twisted the lettuce in my Caesar salad and then set down my fork.
“Come on. You live in New York City and you hardly ever go out.”
I suddenly felt like I was a mean, rich girl when I tugged on the collar of my leather Louis Vuitton jacket and shrugged my shoulders.
“So you went to a boutique, so what? You need to see like the Empire State Building or something.”
“Who cares about that stuff?” It was more of a statement than a question. “The reason I came to New York is because my grandmother lives in Soho and for the designer stores.” The last part was a mumble.
He got really serious and I regretted saying that. “So you came here to buy stuff. Not like you don’t have enough stuff though, right?”
I put my hand on top of his. This reminded me how small I was compared to his burly, muscular figure. “I saw the Empire State Building yesterday…” …While I was driving to Gucci… I left out.
Suddenly the subject was changed. “So where do you want to go after dinner?” he asked.
“Troy, I have enough of my own money. You down have to spend all of yours on me.”
“I work at an attorney’s office, Kat,” he reminded me.
I wanted to argue with him, but he was right. I only had money because of my job at Java’s and because of my dead step-father’s inheritance.
“How about Java’s?” I suggested.
“Um, how about somewhere where you don’t get an employee’s discount?”
I pretended like I was thinking as I chewed on some of my salad. Only then did I realize I had ordered it with no croutons, and, sure enough, I was chewing on a garlicky cube.
I swallowed slowly.
“Then how about Central Park?” I asked after a few silent moments.
“Will do.” He smiled.
Troy finished the last few bites of his chicken and asparagus as the waitress walked over to our table and placed the bill between out plates.
“Take as long as you need,” she said.
“Thank you.” It was odd how somebody as nice and polite as Troy would be with a girl like me: self-centered and egotistical.
I stabbed some more lettuce as he wrote down on the receipt and dug in his wallet for his credit card.
“Nice wallet,” I said snidely, gesturing with my chin to his very expensive looking Gucci wallet.
“Nice jacket,” he spat back.
I felt like a moron as I continued eating and he just watched me silently.
“I love your eyes,” he said.
I wanted to roll them but reminded myself that that was the one thing he was looking at.
“Please,” I said after swallowing. “Blue isn’t that interesting.”
“But it is rare to see them on a brunette.”
“Now my hair? Brown is the ugliest color ever.” I felt horrible for my credit card after I reminded myself that I paid for my hair to be brown with black low-lights.
“You’re right. I’m sorry…” I, stupidly, thought he was finished. “…you’re just overall a very beautiful woman.”
This was one of those very common times that Troy felt too good for me. Or, more commonly, a time that I felt I wasn’t good enough for him. I felt small (metaphorically) to him. He was a really good looking guy. He had the prettiest hazel eyes and dark blonde hair. And I loved how his square jaw was always perfectly shaved.
I looked down at my plate feeling completely self-conscious. “Right,” I mumbled.
Again, the subject was quickly changed. “Not to rush you,” he politely started off. “but are you almost finished?”
I felt really bad when I looked at my only half-eaten plate. I knew this place what really expensive and I didn’t even want to look at the taunting numbers on the receipt.
Troy’s words echoed through my skull: I work at an attorney’s office.
“Yeah,” I said as I set my fork down in the center of the plate.
I felt his eyes on me as I dug in my purse. I felt the leather pouch full of tens and twenties and pulled out two twenties and stuffed the corners under the elaborate vase in the center of the stone table. I thought forty was a very generous tip, especially considering that they put croutons in my salad.
I knew Troy was up to something when he didn’t tell me not to worry about it, that he would take care of the tip, but I ignored the awkward sense.
I hadn’t noticed the waitress come by and pick up the receipt, but she walked over and returned Troy’s credit card.
“I hope you enjoyed your evening here,” the waitress said.
“Thank you. We have,” I said. I felt like I hadn’t been talking much so I thanked the waitress as kindly as I could.
“Thank you for your service,” Troy said as he gently shook the woman’s hand. Then he stood up after she walked away. “And thank you for staying the entire meal.”
Troy held my hand as I worked my way out of the booth. I grabbed my brown beanie from my purse and then I zipped it back up and hoisted the straps over my shoulder. “Well thank you for taking me here.” I wiggled the hat over my head.
We were almost to the glass doors when he said, “Um, just a minute, I forgot my wallet.”
I felt lonely when he wasn’t holding my hand. He tried to be sneaky, but I saw him take the forty from under the vase and stuff it inside his jacket pocket. I couldn’t help but smile to myself.
He returned with a smile on his face and he grabbed my hand again.
“I think we’re all set now,” he said.
“Yeah,” I said. “I hope forty was a big enough tip.”
I turned towards the door and pulled him behind me, not letting him see the gigantic smile on my face.
Tell me what you think.
GaGa~Vampyr