Kimmydon's Week 15 Entry: Outta My Tree

Kimmydon
Wednesday





Picture 1

Picture 2


Kimmydon's Choice: Both


Title: Outta My Tree


The night had started so well.

Drinks with my friends, some laughs at the saps singing. A few drinks later, we were the saps singing. Karaoke should not be legal. Possibly not gin either. At any rate, Bonny Raitt, and another G&T later, I was thinking, These are my girls. They've got my back. I can count on them.

Right?

Wrong.

"Hey, Beth, isn't that Peter's house?" Jamie asked, pointing.

"Huh? Uh, yeah, I think so. I've never been, but he lives around here."

"There's a light on upstairs," Mary pointed out.

"Yeah, so?" I asked.

"So, what if he's home?" Jamie asked, giggling.

I hiccuped. "So what if he is? I'm not going to knock on his door at-" I tried to read my watch, it was blurry, but I thought it said one. "One in the morning. I don't know him that well."

"But you want to," Mary sang, hugging onto me. "Go on, I dare you!" She shoved me at the door.

"What are we, twelve? You're going to dare me to ring his door bell? Should I run away after too?"

They both snorted before erupting in laughter. "No, silly, you jump him."

Well, that made more sense, but wasn't any more likely.

"I'm not even sure it's his house," I complained.

"So check." Jamie pointed to the tree on the lawn.

"You're kidding right? I can't climb a tree! I can't drive! That's why we're walking. Remember?"

"I'll do it!" Mary said with a hiccup of her own. She put her foot to one of the branches.

"Oh my God. Jamie, stop her. We can't let her climb a tree." I reached for Mary's leg but she was already putting another to a different branch, giggling like a maniac.

"I think I can see him!" she sang.

"Get down!" I yelled, pulling on her ankle.

"Wait! Shit!" she slid down from her perch landing on me.

"Ow," I complained rubbing my thigh where her heel had caught. "What?"

"It's him; he saw me. Shit, run!"

And we might as well have been twelve, running from the parental unit that just busted us. I peeped from around the corner and saw Peter sticking his messy blond mop of hair out the door.

My heart skipped. It was like something out of one of my fantasies. His hair was always so perfect, scultped almost. Yes, he went for a certain amount of bed-head, just been fucked, but it was still fake. I don't know how I could tell - product smell? - but every time I passed his office I knew he had spent twenty minutes or more to get it looking that way.

Not this way. This was bed hair. If we hadn't woken him, we'd interrupted him. He had the cutest cowlick that I'd never seen before, poking up on the left side of his head, his right was matted to his scalp, like he'd fallen asleep on it.

The girls were still shushing and giggling, but I was silent, awestruck. "Beth? Are you breathing? Earth to Beth. Shit!" Mary slipped and sent the contents of her pink purse clattering over the pavement.

My eyes widened at the sudden sound on the quiet street. I had been pulled by them to look away, but my eyes returned to the door, afraid we'd been made.

We were in luck. The door was closed.

"Goddamn. You two are going to be the death of me, you know that, right?"

"Go on, Beth. He'll be going back to bed, maybe you'll get a good peep."

"Shut the fuck up." I walked away from them, bending my heel on a misplaced step.

"Oooh, aren't we miss high and mighty? Let's go, Mary. Leave her to her dreams." Jamie linked arms with Mary and turned down a sideroad that would also take them home.


I huffed, abandoned. I looked back at Peter's house. How did he afford such a big place? I mean, I knew he made more than me, but that much? I wondered what it looked like inside. That tree didn't look that hard to climb.

I had definitely had too much to drink. Damn Gin. Prohibition, probably not such a bad idea.
I sat on the tree limb and could only see a stretch of hall, part of the stairs. How had Mary seen him in there? And yet I could see him, climbing the stairs, holding something, looked like tea. Why was the cup so bright?

As he neared the top I saw that it wasn't a cup, but a phone or blackberry or something with a screen that lit up, which is why I could see it so clearly.

I heard a buzz from my bag. Maybe the girls were checking on me.

Get outta my tree. The door is unlocked.

Fuck. This night had started so well....

I slid down, landing in a heap on the grass. My balance was shot and these shoes weren't great for landing anyway, probably would have broken the heels. I tried to hold my head high and not sway too badly as I walked to the door. I opened it slowly, intimidated.

"Hello?" I asked.

"Upstairs," he called.

I kicked off my shoes and grabbed the rail, stopping once to look at the photos on the wall. They were hard to make out; he didn't have any lights on, just the one at the top. The moon and streetlights let me make out faces I recognized from his desk, family for certain. I stopped at the top were he stood, smirking. He had a robe tied on over his pyjama pants. His phone was turned so I could see the screen. It showed a picture of me, under his tree, with my ass in the air. Very nice.

"Well, that'll look great on an intra-office memo," I quipped, hoping he wasn't thinking of doing anything of the sort.

"Maybe. I think I'll keep this one for myself."

I shouldn't be flattered, but somehow I was. Something about the way his eyes looked at my picture as he turned the phone back to himself.

"So, why the invite?" I asked, crossing my arms. "You could have just told me to get out of your tree."

"Why were you in my tree?" he countered.

Shit.

I closed my eyes and thought, "there's no place like home." I even clicked my heels together three times.

Lips met mine.

My eyes flew open and I lost my balance. I was going down the stairs. My arms windmilled as I tried to grab something.

Peter's arm latched to my waist, and my arm caught his shoulder. I held on for dear life as my legs fell beneath me.

"Whoa, Beth. One too many?" he asked, smirking again.

"No, one too many got me in your tree. That was at least two, maybe three too many that had me falling for you."

He shook his head. "Not enough. You're still too witty."

I chuckled. "Can't handle my wit?" I asked.

"I can shut that smart mouth up, you know," he threatened, still holding me to him. His eyes were on my mouth and I felt something shift between us.

Oh, boy.

What was the correct response? I'm not going to be the next to polish your desk? You have some nerve? Mommy? I was seriously contemplating each of these when he took the decision out of my hands again.

His mouth was warm and slightly sticky. He had been woken earlier. I had kissed Peter before, but only once. Stupid Christmas party. Stupid Gary. He'd found us under the mistletoe and snagged Peter for another round of nog. So, this is what it would have been like if Gary had fallen in a sewer as I had wished so dearly then.

Was Peter even aware of my state-sized crush on him? I had always thought not. I certainly hadn't been aware of any interest from him until now.

He paused for breath, and I was grateful, taking the moment to find my feet again.

"I invited you in because I've been wanting to do that for a while."

"Intive me in?"

He rolled his eyes. "Kiss you."

"Oh." I looked at his lips now, licking my own. I thought I heard a sound from him, but it was low and hard to make out. "I... I did too. That's why the girls made the scene. Why Mary..."

He snickered. "Mary climbed my tree? I wish I'd gotten a picture of her ass in the air. Gary would have paid me for it."

I chuckled too. "I don't know if hers was on display. She landed on me, see?" I lifted my leg a little showing the darkening bruise and scratch on my thigh.

I know I heard something this time, and I dropped my foot at his groan.

"I should go," I said in a rush.

"Beth?" he called, stopping me after I'd made the bottom stair. I turned and looked up at him.

"What are you doing Friday night?"

I smiled, beaming. "What am I doing Friday night?" I asked.

"I'll let you know. Six?"

"Six." I agreed, showing myself out.

"And Beth?" I was actually outside at this point, but he stuck that beautiful bed head out the door. "Put some witch hazel on that bruise. It won't turn as dark."

I smiled again, softly this time. "I'll do that. Thank you." I leaned forward to kiss him again. Unable to resist I put a hand into his hair, playing with the whorl on the left side. He pulled away, cussing and trying to smooth it.

"No," I chuckled. "I like it that way." I kissed him once more. "Good night."

"I think it's technically morning."

"Let me shut that smart mouth-"

He did it for me, pulling me to him once more. His robe wasn't as tight anymore and my hands were pressed to his chest, my thumbs on his skin. They wrapped in the hem of the robe, clutching it and him.

"I should let you go," he murmured breathlessly. "You're... inebriated and..." he sounded like he was trying to convince himself.

"Yes, you should. Because I'd just tease and run anyway. I need at least another three or four to lose the panties."

He groaned and dropped his head to my shoulder.

Well, this was fun. Apparently the night would end well too. Imagine that.

Burntcore's Week 15 Entry: Behind The Lens

Burntcore
Tuesday





Picture 1

Picture 2


Burntcore's Choice: Both


Title: Behind the Lens

We had been friends since grade school, drawn together like magnets. She was always the prettier one with naturally tan skin and glossy black hair. I was all knees and elbows with wispy blonde hair. My mother told me I would grow up to be a breath-taking beauty. I tried to believe her. If I was going to be a beauty, my friend was going to be gorgeous.

As we grew, we both grew into our own individual beauty. Marcella stayed true to her classic beauty, enhanced with high cheekbones and expensive cosmetics. My wispy blonde hair darkened into a dirty blonde and I was blessed with blemish free porcelain skin. I hardly ever wore make-up, I didn’t feel the need. And yet, we were friends. She was the ying to my yang. We still giggled over the same boys, sighed over the same shows, and dreamed of fame and fortune bringing our art to the world. How we wanted to go about it was different.

She was born for the stage and screen. She was one of those few talented people who could act and sing at the same time, not one of those actresses that tries to do a musical and relies on studio magic to make her voice sound good. Marcella was in every play and every musical the Drama Club put on in high school. She did prose in the Speech and Debate Club. She even got parts in the community theater during the summers.

What did I do? I captured memories and moments. I catalogued Marcella’s growth as an actress with my camera lens. I froze little moments in time of life and things around us with my Canon. I found beauty in a single leaf laying on the sidewalk, in a puffy cloud floating across the sky, and the great moments in my friends’ lives where they were their best, like Marcella when she was on stage.
Marcella was born to be in front of the lens. I was born to be behind it. I did not envy the attention she got. I got my own accolades as my photography won awards and earned me a scholarship to college. Marcella went to college as well but she really didn’t plan on finishing. She was using college as a staging ground for her professional career. All she needed was to attract the right people and she’d be off to stardom.

After a few years of doing the bare minimum in college, Marcella found her big break. She was cast into a major movie, and while it wasn’t the lead starring role, it was big enough to get her noticed. After that, I didn’t see her for some time. We still talked on the phone and texted and sent emails but it wasn’t quite the same.

While she was filming, I landed my first internship. It was grunt work but it was at a major photography house that dealt mostly with models and art pieces. I wasn’t sure yet if I wanted to be freelance or be attached to a specific company. That decision would be best based on the type of photography I wanted to pursue. The kinds of pictures found in the National Geographic were quite different from the ones found in the National Inquirer.

Marcella regaled me with stories about filming and all the amazing people she had met. I shared stores of getting coffee for the photographers, water and cigarettes for the models, and still trying to learn the ins and outs of professional photography. I think she was getting the better end of the deal. Her picture was splashed across glossy magazine covers from events and places she had been. I bought every one I saw, pleased that my friend was being so successful.

One day I laughed at the absurdity of it all when I saw a spread of Marcella’s. She was covered in head-to-toe designer clothes. Her hair and skin were perfectly made up to the nines. No one could deny her allure. I looked down at my own ‘collection’ of clothes. I just grabbed what was comfortable and clean out of my closet. I was lucky that day that I actually matched. I still didn’t wear make-up, and my wispy hair was tied back in a lose knot. Ah, opposites we still were.

I had my admirers in college; sure, as I was still fairly attractive, but definitely not like the kind of horde of people that followed Marcella devotedly. I decided that I liked having my freedom.

By the time I graduated from college, Marcella had become a household name. She was hailed as the next Hollywood bombshell. My friends from talked about her, amazed and impressed that I knew her. Yet, our friendship remained. I hadn’t seen her in well over a year but a week did not go by where we didn’t speak to one another. I looked forward to when we could see each other again.

Our next meeting was unexpected as it was awesome. I was still trying to find a company to get full-time work so I was operating as a freelancer. She told me that she was going to be visiting New York to do some PR work for her next film. It was supposed to be pretty hush-hush so she wouldn’t be swamped with fans. I told her I was holed up in Boston on assignment so I could surprise her.

It was perfect. It was a beautiful late summer day as I sat on the steps of the American Museum of Natural History. Tourists were coming and going all around me, ignoring this slight blonde girl on the steps. I idly played with my Canon camera, a significant upgrade from the one I had as a child, as I waited for Marcella.

My patience was rewarded as a white limo pulled up to the side of the large marble and granite steps of the museum. The car stopped by a section of the stairs that were roped off from the rest. A handsome man in a well-tailored suit popped out of the driver’s side and quickly opened the passenger door of the limo.

Out stepped the gorgeous Marcella. I quickly aimed my camera and began taking photos of her. I had no intention of selling them. I wanted to see if she’d recognize me there, despite the few years that had passed since we had last seen one another. People coming and going from the museum noticed her arrival and whispers were heard.

I kept my spot on the steps, snapping away. The sound of my camera and the light reflection from my lens finally got Marcella’s attention as she walked up the stairs.

“Elena?” she shouted, her face breaking into a bright smile.

“Maybe,” I hollered back, rising and taking a few more pictures.

Despite her fancy shoes and her designer dress, she hoped the ropes and ran over to me. I laughed merrily and tossed my camera in my bag as she nearly bowled me over with a hug.

“You told me you were in Boston!” she cried, not releasing her deathgrip on me.

“I was. Yesterday,” I replied drolly.

She finally let me go and looked around, noticing the crowd we had gathered. Now I was the one in front of the lens and not behind as people with camera phones took pictures of Marcella the movie star and her friend.

“Good Lord, Elena, let’s get out of here before they think we are a couple,” she teased.

I laughed again as I grabbed my camera bag and followed her into a private entrance of the museum.

“So, how is Rob doing? Have you worn away his British accent yet?” I teased, as the door shut behind us.

Romanticvamp's Week 15 Entry: Prints

Romanticvamp
Tuesday





Picture 1

Picture 2


Romanticvamp's Choice: Picture 1


Title: Prints

I press my forehead into my hand, twisting my hair through my fingers in frustration. Everything in front of me is, quite frankly, crap.

“What’s eating you this time?” Jasper asks, plopping into the chair across the desk.

I don’t even bother to look up at my best friend as I pick up another set of prints and grimace.

“Remind me why I do this job . . .”

He chuckles. “You need money, like everyone else. Same reason I’m hitched to your wagon.”

I toss those prints down as well. With a heavy sigh, I lean back in my chair, rubbing at my eyes. I’m stuck. Sure, this job pays me pretty fantastic, but at the cost of any originality or creativity. I might as well be working a typical nine to five desk job.

The only redeeming grace – well, beside the money – is that I get to keep Jasper as my assistant. He’s not complaining about the paycheck either. He can do this and work on his music and history research on the side without worrying.

I feel a pang of longing for the “old days,” when I was fresh out of college and hungry for any opportunity; just me and my camera and my best friend forging our own path. I traveled and did what I loved without a care in the world, determined to be ranked among the greats like Jim Brandenburg or Anne Geddes or, my favorite, Ansel Adams.

My savings had to run out eventually.

Luckily, all the products of mine and Jasper’s aimless traveling had caught the eye of some important people. Our talent was recognized and we were hired right away.

I glance over at my baby, snuggled securely away in its case. I didn’t have all the fancy equipment I have now. I should at least be grateful for that.

“Hey, call it a night. Let’s go get some drinks. We’ve got another shoot with that Mary Alice Brandon in the morning,” Jasper says, his face lighting up.

I barely manage to not roll my eyes. The last shoot I had done with her had been one of the best. At least this designer was adventurous with her style and trusted me enough to let me take the reigns. Even if the magazine hadn’t appreciated my own twist, she had asked for some prints to hang up in her studio.

Although, that might have been helped along by a certain assistant trying to charm the pants off of her.

“At least we get a little break in the monotony,” I sigh, shoving all the prints back into their folder and packing everything up. Resolving to deal with this boring spread later, I follow my friend out of our offices and down to the bar.

****

I’m at the shoot site bright and early. The sun still hasn’t risen, which is good since our models aren’t quite ready. I study the abandoned cabin and wood pile and surrounding woods, my mind running wild with ideas.

“Mr. Edward Cullen!” I hear a bright voice chime behind me.

I turn and find myself chest-to-face with none other than Mary Alice Brandon. Her pale blue eyes are sparkling as she beams up at me, bouncing like she always does. I can’t help but smile back at her. She’s still the same tiny, elfin-looking thing, her black hair sticking out in effortless spikes.

“Miss Brandon,” I acknowledge.

“Oh, please, just Alice. I was so excited to find out you were the photographer again. All of the others are so boring.”

My lips twitch as I bite back an agreement.

“It’s a pleasure, just as it was the first time. Do you have a specific look you’re going for?”

“Well, the magazine wants the ‘Fall Look,’” she says, complete with air quotes. “Just do whatever you want. I can’t tell you how many compliments I get on those prints hanging in my studio. You’ve got a gift.”

Just then, Jasper chooses to appear and schmooze his way into the conversation. I don’t miss the hint of coloring that suddenly appears in Alice’s cheeks. She flashes him a tiny, almost shy smile, seeming much more sedate than is normal. I turn back to the set, brainstorming as they do their odd little flirting dance.

“I actually picked two of my friends to model my designs this time.”

I’m suddenly drawn back in, wondering how this is going to go. Am I going to be dealing with inexperienced, uncooperative people?

“Friends?”

“Yep. They know how to make it all look good. I’ve been using them as my guinea pigs since college. Well, one since high school . . . but they know what they’re doing.”

“How’d you pull that one off?” Jasper asks a bit dazedly.

I shake my head and roll my eyes, but Alice is smitten with the complete devotion he is suddenly showing.

“I just told the head honchos if they wanted my Fall Preview, I got to choose the models.”

She is one hell of force.

Alice excuses herself to do some final checks as it begins to get lighter. Jasper finally snaps out of whatever dreamland he had been floating in and decides he’d actually like to participate in this shoot. I am teasing him mercilessly, provoking his normal calm into a riled up, agitated state, when we’re interrupted by the models.

The first one is tall, statuesque, blonde waves and deep sapphire eyes. She seems like perfect, cliché model material, but as she introduces herself as Rosalie Hale, I notice the hardness and stubbornness that usually doesn’t accompany a normal model. Alice has indeed worked her magic as she looks incredible dressed in a form fitting suit and heels, complete with vest and button-up, generous amounts of beaded necklaces draped around her neck. I quickly set her up on the pile of lumber before turning to the second friend.

I freeze.

There is nothing cliché or model-like about this girl. Her skin is the palest I’ve ever seen, offset by wide brown eyes and equally brown hair, teased into high-fashion style. When her eyes meet mine, she blushes the brightest shade of red and quickly looks away. As she begins to mumble, I barely hear her say her name is Bella Swan.

I feel as though my world has disappeared. Nothing exists except for the shy girl in front of me, dressed in a high collared jacket and a skirt that is illegally tiny. Her long legs are covered by lacy stockings that end at her thighs and are held up by . . . a ribbon garter belt. I barely even notice the black pumps she has on.

Jasper clears his throat and we both jump. I feel my own face start to burn a little as I direct her to sit up behind Rosalie. I take the camera from my friend in a daze, unable to actually articulate what I want.

Luckily, Jasper seems to be reading my mind. He starts directing them, instructing them on the different poses to try. I move around, snapping away, trying to ignore that every shot I take makes this Bella the focal point of the picture and that her eyes follow me wherever I go, like she can’t bear to look away.

After a few hours and several wardrobe changes, the crew starts taking down the equipment. Alice dashes over to me, a sly smile on her face.

“Edward! I can already tell those are going to be wonderful! I can’t wait to see them!”

I nod at her, still distracted. And trying to keep my eyes from wandering over to the changing tent . . .

“Edward?”

“Huh?”

“I said Jasper’s coming out for drinks tonight. Would you like to join us?”

“I should probably get these proofs out so we can work on the spread.” And so I can look at her a little more.

“Are you sure? Rosalie and Bella are coming.”

She’s going? I could go with Jasper, get to know her better. Maybe wrestle a date out of it. At the very least, I could get her into my bed for one night. Really, this work could wait . . .

Bad idea. Bad idea.

“Thank you, Alice, but I’m going to have to take a rain check.”

Her face falls a little, but she assures me she’ll be following up on that. After they exchange some information, Jasper joins me and we head to the car.

He might as well have gone home and daydreamed about his coming night for all the help he is at the office. I finish the spread I was working on last night while he takes entirely too long getting the proofs printed of Alice’s shoot. When he comes back, he hands me the folder and says he’s heading out.

“Are you sure you don’t want to come? I’m sure a certain brunette ---”

“Goodbye, Jasper. Enjoy your night.”

“Oh I will. You enjoy yours by yourself.”

He has the door shut before the empty film cartridge can hit him.

I take a break before getting a start. When I do finally open the folder, I’m assaulted with her face staring up at me. A strange ache starts in my chest. I rub at it uncomfortably as I stare at her smile, her pout, her laugh.

Focus, Cullen.

It does me no good. Each time I think I’ve found one where Rosalie is the main focus, my eyes are still drawn to Bella. The more I stare at her picture, the more I realize I want to know her. I want to kiss those pouty lips and know what was said between the friends to make her laugh. Why she smiled like she had a secret.

My head is in my hands as I fight an internal battle. Even with my eyes closed, the prints of her face are burned into my eyes. I can’t escape her. I sigh and shut the folder, grabbing my things and leaving the building. I pull out my phone.

“Jasper. Where are you guys?”

Bendingmirrors Week 15 Entry: Summer Christmas

Bendingmirrors
Monday





Picture 1

Picture 2


Bendingmirror's Choice: Both


Title: Summer Christmas

The whole idea that while we were shivering in the dead of winter while the other half of the world was sweltering in summer had always struck me as odd. So when the opportunity to try a summertime Christmas presented itself I grabbed onto it with both hands.

Renee had been dating Phil for just over a year when he was invited to play an exhibition game in Sydney, Australia. Renee had always wanted to travel overseas, and I knew that if she managed to convince Phil to take her along then I would definitely be included, she’d never spend Christmas in another country without me. So we set about convincing Phil that he needed us with him, that he couldn’t possibly spend the holiday on his own.

So that was how we found ourselves in an airport a few days before Christmas dressed in layers we could shed while travelling towards summer. The cavernous space was dotted with people who had forgotten all about the Spirit of the Season while they attempted to push and shove their way through security lines in an attempt to be the first to sit and wait for the plane to board. The first plane trip from New York to Los Angeles wasn’t too bad, the anticipation kept me buzzing, but the long haul flight from LA to Sydney was endless. Hours upon hours of trapped in a plane had me semi-convinced that I would just find a way to live in Sydney, I wasn’t going to subject myself to the return trip.

But the wait was worth it, flying into Sydney over its two most famous landmarks lit up at night to display themselves at their best was magical, the strange peaks of the Opera House reflecting light better than the stretching Harbour Bridge. Circling the city, waiting to land I found myself feeling a little less enchanted.

When we were finally released from our metal prison, and through the long, long lines at customs, we made our way out into the balmy night air towards the sign displaying Phil’s name. The driver wove his way through the streets and onto a highway towards our hotel. I didn’t know much about Sydney but I did know that Phil had chosen a hotel in the city that had views of the harbour rather than staying out near the Olympic Park where the exhibition game would be played. Phil had mentioned something about the Australian team not receiving much support due to a lack of exposure to baseball, so they were hoping to raise it’s profile by playing some of the minor league teams from the USA. The game was set for the day after Christmas, and apparently they were competing for crowds with some big game of cricket that was being played in Melbourne that was televised across the country.

Either way, Phil would be busy prepping with his team while we were here, and we would be free to explore the city on our own. Renee and I were determined that we would sample a little of everything while we were in the city, starting with a trip to the beach. We had originally thought we’d catch a bus out to Bondi Beach, but when we’d approached the concierge, she’d told us that we would be far better off catching a ferry to Manly, walking along The Corso and trying Manly beach. Something in the way she’d shuddered when we mentioned swimming at Bondi convinced us that we’d be better off listening and swimming at Manly.

The ferry ride was a little on the rough side, especially when we ‘went through the heads’ but the sights were amazing. The water shimmering, light bouncing around playfully as we made our way out from Circular Quay and into the open water. Eventually arriving in Manly, we wandered along the main pedestrian thoroughfare wending our way through the crowds of people pouring in and out of little shops with bags full of souvenirs, ice creams and other paraphernalia. The sun overhead beating down on us and forming a haze on the cobblestone path making it was hard to believe that this was the end of December.

The golden sand of the beach was so hot it felt like it had just come out of an oven. I wondered how it was that so many of the people on the beach were wandering around barefoot, I had no intentions of taking the flip flops off my feet while the sand was this hot. We made our way across to a vacant spot, and settled ourselves down on our towels. Stripping down to our bikinis, we covered ourselves in sunscreen and settled in to watch the people around us before indulging in a swim ourselves.

By the time the afternoon was drawing to a close, we had both enjoyed a good swim in the salty water, and the novelty of swimming in December. Tired, but happy we threw our shorts and shirts back on and started to make our way back along the beach to catch a ferry back to our hotel. I hadn’t even made it five steps along the beach before I tripped and fell into him. He’d been packing up his own belongings, bringing his day at the beach to a close. His steadying arms wrapped around me, and set me back on my feet.

Winking at me he said. “Well, I know I’ve always been charming, but this has to be the first time that anyone’s actually fallen for me this quickly!”

“Do those cheesy lines ever work for you?” I teased him back.

“Don’t know, I’ve never tried before. I’m Chris, and judging by that lovely accent, you’re only holidaying here.” His grey eyes shone brightly with a hint of mischief as he introduced himself.

“You’d be right, I’m Bella.” I offered my hand to him, but before I knew what was happening, he’d reached over to bend me over, like they do in the movies, for one of those old style Hollywood kisses.

I came up spluttering, outraged that a stranger would feel comfortable enough to man-handle me like that.

“Sorry, I couldn’t resist. I had a feeling you’d be easy to rile.”

I had no idea how to respond to that, so I grabbed the bags that I’d dropped when I’d first fell into him and started up the beach to where Renee stood waiting for me.

“Bella, please, I’d love to make it up to you, show you around a little. Offer you both my services as a tour guide.”

I thought about it for a few minutes, looking towards mom to see what she thought. I could tell that she was a little bit excited that she might get to see a holiday romance unfold before her eyes, so I turned back to him.

“Bella Swan, I’m staying at the Shangri-La hotel with Mom and Phil. We’ll look forward to you showing us some more of Sydney tomorrow morning at 9 sharp. How about we meet you in the lobby?”

His answering grin said it all, but he confirmed it with “Sure thing, I’ll be there bright and early, we’ll show you the very best Sydney has to offer.”

Miss-Beckie-Louise's Week 14 Entry: Coz Bob Said So - Making a Flake Advert

Miss-Beckie-Louise
Friday





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Miss-Beckie-Louise's Choice: Picture 2


Title: Coz Bob Said So- Making a Flake Advert

“And...Action!”

The music sounded, and the piece of chocolate was handed to me. The Camera zoomed in on me and I lifted the chocolate to my mouth and took what I hoped was a very sensual bite of the chocolate.

The New Flake advert. Why my manager had demanded I take this job, I don't know. I mean seriously, it's a chocolate bar!

She said that doing the advert will boost my chances of getting 'famous'. Honestly, I'll believe it when it happens.

So, because of my manager, here I am, sitting in a field, with a straw hat on, and bright ruby lips, about to sensually take a bite of a flake. I love the things but honestly the things that the director wants me to do, is barbaric. I'm not even going to mention the things he wants me to do.

The director came over, “okay, so basically, all I want you to do, is look into the camera a bit more, and take a slow bite. Make it as sensual as you possibly can. Thanks.”

He walked back over the camera and shouted, “Quiet please... and rolling... and...action!”

The shoot took three hours in total, and at the end, I ate enough chocolate to keep me going for a while. Once the shoot finished, I was on the phone to my manager.

“Seriously? The Flake Advert?!” I shouted.

“Darling, please, it's the biggest move of your career, just enjoy it.” She hung up.

Three weeks later, I was sitting at home with my family and the flake advert came on. I watched it, and honestly, it was my best work yet.

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This was Friday of Last Weeks – I am just lame – Sorry MBL!!!

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Nostalgicmiss Week 14 Entry: What Not To Do . . .

Nostalgicmiss
Thursday





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Nostalgicmiss' Choice: Picture 2


Title: What Not To Do . . .

The Cure's lullaby was blaring through the house. The haunting tune bouncing from the walls as Rosalie gently swayed on her feet to the rhythm. It was rare we had the house to ourselves, but this once we didn't need to hunt like the rest of the family so we were able to have the abode to ourselves and do as we pleased.

As always Rose and I were adorned with the decade's fashion, even if it wasn't as flattering as the flowing dresses of the sixties or the hippy simplicity of the seventies. We'd skipped the punk look then but here we were now, in the middle of England wearing Doc Marten's and Parka's like we'd been born in the right era.

It was overcast outside, and yet, we were still stuck inside with nothing to do but sway to the dulcet tones of Robert Smith.

"I'm getting bored, Al," Rosalie sang falling into the plush couch next to me. Carlisle had bought this manor house sometime in the eighteen hundreds, but Esme had been having a ball updating it. It was practically in the middle of nowhere in the Yorkshire Dales because poor Jasper still had the taste for blood and we were being careful. The last thing we needed was the neighbors and their foxhounds barreling over our land and becoming the pray.

"Well, What do you want to do?"

"Let's take one of the cars and go into Blackpool, we could be there and back before everyone gets home. They went to the highlands anyway. Please Al," she whined, making the one syllable of my nickname draw out. She turned and gave me her best puppy dog look to go with it. "Please, please, please?"

"What do I look like," I demanded feigning annoyance. "The responsible one?"

Rosalie broke into a smile but paused as though she were waiting for something more.

"What?"

"We just made a decision, are you getting of that precog mumbly jumbly?"

"That's real technical, Rose, and no. Not a thing."

"Excellent. Let's go to the place we went to see The Beatles. You know the big warehouse place called the pit."

"Do you forget that I have the same infallible memory that you do? Or do you do it just to mess with me?"

"Hmm considering I could pick out how contradictory that first statement is, I would go with the latter."

I rolled my eyes and grabbed a set of keys as we passed through the ancient stone foyer of the house. It was really the only place Esme left in its original form. It's medieval feel sometime made me shiver, but I couldn't deny how much I loved it. When we'd first moved into the house I couldn't help but run my hand over the rises and falls of the steel gray rock and wonder how much more it had seen. In all honesty, I think only Carlisle was close to the age it.

Rosalie hated driving here, mainly because she always ended up on the wrong side of the road on a narrow country lane. She was studying the mechanics of cars, but still felt completely off balance on the wrong side of the car. Being the medical he was, Carlisle had explained that it was all in her head, but for the life of her she could never get it right.

We climbed into the red TVR Roadster and buckled ourselves in. It was my favorite car of the collection we had, it drew far too much attention to us but it wasn't like there was anyone around to reprimand me.

"You sure you wanna do this?" I asked grinning. "You remember what happened the last time right?"

"Yeah, I remember, but it's not like Emmett's here. He was the one that tried to plug the American cord into the English switch and plunged the place into darkness."

I giggled at the memory. Though it really hadn't been funny at the time. Hundred of screaming fans seemed to turn into hooligans as they searched for the culprit. Thankfully in the dark we'd been able to move quickly through the throngs of people to the other side of the warehouse so we wouldn't be implicated. It had been Emmett's move but it hadn't been the accident he'd said it was. Edward had heard his thoughts. He had been upset about Rosalie's fascination with George Harrison and I'd seen a flicker of his plan seconds before he'd done it and had no time to stop him.

Not that I was going to bring that up now.

The cool country air swept through the car as we barreled toward the bright lights of Blackpool and the amusements it had to offer. It was easy to tell when we drew near, I could easily smell the brine from the water, and the sound of the waves lapping against the shore was a roar in my ears.

"Oh no," Rosalie shouted as I pulled around one of the corners. "That just sucks. Look at that."

I pulled the car to a stop at the edge of road next to the metal fence up around the building and climbed out. We scaled the fence and hung off looking dejected at the building that sat condemned in front of us. Rosalie bent her knees and hung down low as I peeked over the top.

"All those memories and they're going to tear the place down."

"I know," I sighed, bouncing on the metal, which I could easily scale if the need arose. "You'd think with the history of it, it would be some kind of national monument or something."

"It looks so . . ."

"Run down?" I offered, bouncing against the fence making the chain link sing out against the gray afternoon light."

"Yeah, it's so indescript. Looking at it you wouldn't think about the huge setting inside. It looks like a normal boring warehouse."

"It really does. You wanna go in?" I challenged looking around. "You know, to see if there's anything inside?"

Rosalie's face looked up at mine as I looked down at her and shrugged.

"Move the car first. The last thing we need is people seeing that parked right outside. It's literally a red flag."

"Done. Stay here and hide if anyone comes. I'll come back through the forest."

I jump easily from the fence and danced toward the car. The car was parked a mile away and I was stood next to Rosalie all within five minutes. She was stood under a tree that bled into the small park where I'd parked. I'd used the trees for cover as I sprinted back toward her. She already looked bored, but rose was never one for waiting.

"Finally, what took you so long?"

"There were kids playing in the park, I had to be careful, there were big gaping patches with no trees."

"Fine. Let's do this."

We sprinted toward the fence and scaled hopped over as though it were merely to our calves, and raced toward the entrance. Rosalie's long legs carried her quickly, but I kept up with her easily as we weaved around the trash that was piled around the place.

Our boots skidded in the dust around the entrance as we came to a stop make them sprinkle into the air like dust motes.

"I so kicked your ass," Rosalie grinned, gripping the handle and pushing. It groaned against her strength but gave way easily letting us slip inside.

"Did not, and you have the advantage of having legs up to your ears. So what's your excuse?"

Rosalie rolled her eyes and pushed the door closed behind us. Darkness enveloped the place, it was nothing to our eyes, which compensated for the darkness, but it didn't stop the haunted feeling that came with it.

"They gutted the place, Al."

Rosalie took off through the open space at top speed, her pale hair falling behind her with her speed. I took my time stepping slowly into the small piles of debris left behind in the dismantling of what had been here.

It was easy to tell how the place had fallen into ruin. The small of alcohol and cigarette smoke hung in the air. Sweat and faint traces if blood mingling with it. It had been made into a night club.

"Do you smell that?" Rosalie called, her head falling back on her shoulders and her arms stretching out. "It smells like a good party."

I took two more steps inside and the smell of alcohol drained out everything else. I tried to clear my mind and stop breathing but as I did, something flickered in the back of my mind. Drowning out Rosalie's exclamation of: "Alice!"

Grey clouds of dust consumed my vision as a loud ringing made beats of vibrations through the air. Everything shook violently heavy parts of the building fell around me as I shuddered.

A demolition. There were taking down the building today and the decision had just been made to do it.

"Alice, run. There's explosives everywhere."

Rosalie grabbed my arm as she sprinted past me, bringing me out of the spell I'd been under. Neither of us held back as we sprinted to the door. Our bodies all muscle and power pushed toward the fresh air as the sound of the charge came to life in the building. We had seconds.

We fell through the wood – hearing the splinters and chard hitting the ground behind us as we moved – and made our way to the fence, instinct making our speed almost double. We leaped over the fence and rolled in our landing, both of us sprang like cats onto our two legs as we moved into the safety of the trees.

"Let's go inside," Rosalie laughed hysterically pushing a little harder. "See if there's anything in there."

"Shut up, I didn't see you complaining," I snorted, my arms floating out to my sides as I ran. "It smells like a good party."

Rosalie pushed me playfully, her eyes alive with excitement. "Who am I kidding, that was the most fun I've had with my clothes on in a while. Emmett's going to be pissed he missed it!"

"Jasper is going to be pissed I did it," I laughed feeling lighter. "Who cares, it was an adventure."

"The first of many I hope," Rosalie teased taking the lead.

I smiled as I followed, darting through the trees. Rose and I had always been good friends, but this had brought us closer. This had been an experience for us to bond over and like she'd said herself, I hoped it would be the first of many.

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I did post yesterday Morning!! But it wasn't there when I checked in the evening!!

Miztrezboo Week 14 Entry: A Pocket Full of Maybes

Miztrezboo
Thursday





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Miztrezboo's Choice: Picture 1


Title: A Pocket Full of Maybes

"I love that one of you guys! Do you remember that trip we took in the fall out to the Grand Canyon?"

I laugh and look at what she's holding, a slightly yellowed photograph of the six of us on this old tour bus that we had on loan from Emmett's dad. The McCarty's owned a fleet of these great silver bus's that mostly rock stars used to travel across country. Daisy, our luxury liner, had just finished a coast to coast tour with this up and coming little band that now traveled by plane.

It's why we had the bus in the first place, the McCarty's business was slowing with managers wanting their clients to hold more and more concerts in shorter periods of time.

"Whatever happened to Daisy?" I wonder aloud and Vicky either doesn't hear me or ignores me. She's rifling through this huge striped bag full of rags that were once clothes, ticket stubs, coasters and what looks to be even more photos.

I'm shifting through the bundle that she gave me, all silly pictures of the people that I've spent most of my life around. Of people that I no longer see in anything but photographs.

Emmett has taken all of these. He was our official road trip memory maker and for all our crazy trips back in the early seventies when we were just finishing college and thought we knew it all. Emmett is barely in any of these because of that, the occasional thigh or finger. Sometimes, if I took a shot, he was there, but mostly its just the rest of us.

Vicky, James, Bella, Edward and me.

Edward.

That's a name that I haven't even thought of in such a long time.

I flip through a few more - there's Vicky and I high as kites with wild hair and ash on our faces in the firelight. Another, James and Edward's white asses hanging out Daisy's window. One more and I stop cold, unable to breathe.

How can he still affect me like this ten years on? How can just one picture bring back all the feelings I'd thought I'd buried along with any thought of him at all?

This must have been how Emmett found out. This trip, this last big road trip with the six of us was the ending of a lot more than just our misguided youth. What had started out as one last hurrah before our final year of college turned into an ugly mess by the time we started back.

Four couples and two singles started that adventure. And only one couple made it back home.

Emmett had always wanted me, we'd fooled around but were never serious, and say it was because we were too different. He was all studious and smart. A book nerd through and through. I was into politics and sit ins and chaining myself to trees and speaking out.

Not that much had changed there, I was still very vocal on the environment in my role within our town council. I just didn't wind up in jail for my stunts anymore. Time and age had taught me that words were sometimes louder than actions.

Emmett could never understand what made me so passionate about 'a bunch of trees' and its what stopped us from being anything more. For a guy whose parents were the original hippies, he was one of seven after all, he was completely against the free love movement. He wanted a woman to settle down with, and I was not one to settle.

For all the reasons Em couldn't be with me, they were the exact reasons Edward and I got along. Edward ran our little movement of political warfare at Berkley. He and I would argue and argue from sun up to sun down, both of us incredibly stubborn and never willing to back down. It was amazing really that we ever got half the things done that we did.

That was probably where Bella came into it. She was quiet, but she listened to both sides and after a while she became the deciding vote on every matter that Edward and I stood our ground upon. The three of us worked closely together, but when it came to actually doing what we fought about, Bella would sit it out. Her daddy was some chief of police or whatever in the podunk town she had came from. She refused to take part in something that would end up on her permanent record.

Mine and Edward's however, was probably a good six to ten feet long. Or a couple of folders, depending on how they stored those things then.

Our passion, our fire, was what burned everything we had together back then. That build up of tension, the subsequent release and then the ashes that were all that was left of our relationship at all by the end of it.

I could see it in this photo. Vicky on James' lap, James with those stupid aviators that he would never take off and I'm fairly certain his hand on V's ass. Then Bella perched between Edward and I, his large hand high on her thigh. Her face dewy and bright and smiling like they were sharing some private joke.

When really, she was the joke.

Or I was.

Edward's other hand, you could just make out on my shoulder. I'm leaning in slightly and I remember it was seconds after that, that his knuckles brushed against my cheek.

No wonder Emmett figured it out. It was all there in these photographs. The subtle touches, the looks, the smiles, the everything we thought we were doing well hiding was as obvious as the sun in sky.

It had all started between Edward and I over paper. One single piece of paper. He wanted green and I wanted red as the background for these flyers we were handing out one weekend. I can't even remember now what was on the flyers. Just that the color became this battleground and ended up with me half naked on the copier, Edward with his pants around his ankles and more than just copies of our flyer flying about. As I recall, for days afterward you could actually see my ass print on anything that was copied on that machine.

When it was over, when we'd pushed and pulled and come, we swore it was a one off. Never to happen again. Bella didn't need to know.

It was a promise we made the next time.

And the next.

And the next.

Until we stopped saying it, just having it as this little secret between us both.

Emmett and I were casual, it wasn't like we were hurting him.

But Bella.

Bella and Edward had been together since orientation. They were practically attached at the hip. Unless he and I were.

Going on holiday together should never have happened. We swore that we could keep our hands to ourselves for the two weeks we'd be gone. That nothing needed to happen. That he had Bella, and if I was feeling horny, I had Em.

I should have known it wouldn't have worked that way. All that nature, all the arguments over what music was being played, who would drive, where we would stop to eat.

They were all our usual precursors to fabulous sex. Hot, needy, rough and amazing sex, but sex we shouldn't have been having on a trip like this.

Yet we did. We were camping on some part of the Canyon that we probably shouldn't have been. We were high - like we had been most of the trip - and one by one, our companions either dropped off to sleep or in Vicky and James' case, went off to screw, and then we were alone.

Alone by the campfire that was making his hair glow in the firelight. Alone with only a sliver of moon to make his skin look ethereal and white instead of its normal pasty grey. Alone with nothing to do, except each other.

I had thought we'd been quiet enough. I had thought we'd walked further enough away from everyone else. I had thought we had been quick and not spent the hours that we had exploring each others smokey scent and sweaty skin.

But two sets of eyes had seen us. Two sets of eyes had seen and two hearts had been broken.

The third broke when we finally woke up and made our way to camp the next morning. Bella and Emmett had already packed up their tent and James and Vicky weren't far behind. The air between us was filled with awkward from the moment Edward went to kiss Bella. She turned her cheek and stared at me. A stare so vacant and devoid of emotion I knew immediately what had gone wrong.

"I can't believe you."

Emmett had whispered in my ear and everything I thought I had came crashing around me.

The long drive back was quiet. Filled with nothing but the radio and the occasional call for a pit stop. Edward's husky tone begging Bella to forgive him. That it was nothing. That I was nothing.

That hurt.

Emmett wouldn't meet my eyes or touch me.

Vicky and James were the peace keepers but didn't try to involve us all in anything after Bella told her to shut the fuck up.

Bella was never loud, but that one massive outburst was enough to end any hopes of reconciliation.

When we'd got back, Edward and Bella transferred to Seattle.

Emmett never spoke to me again. If he saw me on campus or we were at the same party, he would stare right through me as if I wasn't there.

The only friendship that remained intact was mine with James and Vicky.

"We should do that again,"

And Vicky's voice brings me back to the present, where I don't hurt about things that I can no longer change in my past.

"Do what?" I ask, as she takes the photos from my hands.

She smiles as she flips through, a little sadly because I know she remembers that trip too. How things changed for all of us. Because not only did I lose these friends, she and James did too.

"A road trip or something. It doesn't have to be the Grand Canyon. Or, I don't know... maybe just get the old gang back together?"

I stare at her with one brow raised in disbelief.

She rolls her eyes and shifts one of her red curls behind her ear. "Oh come on Rose, its been a decade. Shit that happened back then fades away you know. I'm sure no one even remembers."

I snort, "You do and I do, so what makes you think that they don't?"

Her lips purse and I've known her for long enough now to recognize that smirk. "Vicky, what have you done?"

She shakes her head and that curl pops out from behind her ear again. "Nothing." I stare her down. "Well okay, I saw Edward at the farmers market last weekend. We got to talking and he'll-be-here-in-an-hour."

My mouth slackens and I'm gaping like a goldfish. "You, he, what?"

Vicky flicks through a few more pictures and holds up one in front of me. Edward and I together on the bus, his arm wrapped around me and my head resting on his shoulder. I'm smiling and he looks to be laughing at something. But its not those things I focus on. It's the look between us that says so much more. Its what I always thought I saw when I looked at him, but to see this physical evidence that the look was returned, that it wasn't all on my side. It makes my heart beat that little bit faster.

"I showed him this, I told him you were single and I told him you'd be here for lunch." The door bell rings and my the thumping in my chest is now a hummingbird wings staccato.

Vicky stands up and as she heads to the door she calls out one last piece of information, "He's single too, just in case you wanted to know."

I laugh nervously because in a way I do and I'm standing and straightening my clothes and hating that I'm not prepared for this.

But in a way, I've been waiting forever, wanting this forever and its probably the reason none of my previous relationships up until now have worked out.

Life doesn't often give you second chances, and this is one I won't ignore.

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