Today Hope Roberson of Writing with Hope, along with CassieMae at Reading,Writing, and Lovin’ It!, are hosting the Is It Getting HOT in Here? Blog hop. Such a festive idea for the Valentine’s Day holiday.
The deets: share one of your a favorite kissing scenes from a book, from your own work-in-progress, from a real-life memory, or simply make one up for the purpose of the blog hop. Then hop around to take part in that oh-so romantic, huggy/kissy Valentine’s Day feel.
Here's my entry from my yet-unedited WiP, Superstition Gold, where Ellie and Alexander camp out in the Superstitions in search for the Lost Dutchman’s Mine.
He had already dug in; was shoveling premade tuna salad into his mouth as if there was no tomorrow.
“Aren’t you going to eat?” he asked.
I nodded. My tongue had suddenly tangled—what with all the neurons firing in crazy ways, they made my heart thump hard, my stomach tremble, and my mind race. But it was crazy to not eat. I was hungry. I didn’t want to be one of those girls—girls like Tiffany Sheldon who took minuscule bites from the heel of a loaf of bread, then said they were full. I was so not one of those girls. I tore the top off my package of tuna and stuck my fork in. Alexander smiled. I smiled back, then ate as best as I could without leaving traces of fish parts at the corners of my mouth.
He finished his food before I did and fished something out of his own bag. A book. He tipped it in my direction.
“That’s the book you had when…”
“...we first met,” he said. I couldn't believe he remembered. And, he was already finishing my sentence. My heart did a cartwheel.
“Yeah.”
He opened it and read out loud.
“’Tonight I can write the saddest lines. Write, for example, The night is starry and the stars are blue and shiver in the distance. The night wind revolves in the sky and sings.’”
I moved closer to glimpse the page over his shoulder. Plus, I had the ulterior motive of wanting to steal some of his body heat. He paused for a moment as if he forgot where he was in the poem. I heard him gulp.
Then he continued with an almost imperceptible breath to orientate himself. “’Tonight I can write the saddest lines. I loved her, and sometimes she loved me too. Though nights like this one I held her in my arms.’”
He glanced at me, maybe to make sure I was still paying attention or not falling asleep.
“’I kissed her again and again under the endless sky…’” he stopped.
I waited for him to continue. The poem was unfinished.
“Aren’t you going to continue?” I asked.
Alexander’s eyes caught hold of my own. He had this flushed look on his face, and he looked at me like—like there was no one else on Earth. He leaned in and softly placed his lips on mine, and we kissed. His lips were gentle, almost like feathers, and his fingers lingered at the tips of my hair as if he was afraid to touch me. I kissed him back, and he seemed more assured, letting his hand wander into my hair for a moment until he pulled away. My heart fluttered so hard, I thought it would stop.
*Poem: Pablo Neruda's Tonight I Can Write the Saddest Lines
Happy Valentine's Day and happy blog hopping!
