Romantica - Assignment #5

Romantica - Assignment #5 - January 26 to February 1, 2015

Assignment 5: Originally I was going to keep up with the swapping pov's from week to week, but I've decided to change that since we only have two weeks left. For this assignment and the last one, you will change the point of view from character "A" to character "B". Start with one, and about midway through, switch to the other, the order does not matter here. I just want to see how they are both feeling as the scene progresses. Now that they’ve gone through their conflict and things remain strained between them, you will work towards resolution. You choose who makes the first move, which character needs coaxing, and how they work it out. Focus on their range of emotions here. Use facial expressions, how explanations affect reactions, what words softens the residual anger and gets them to stop and listen. You can take this far as you think you need to. Do they wind up in bed afterward? This is your choice.
1000-2000 words, due Sunday.


         By the time she made it through the trail, the snow had already begun.  Flakes as big as quarters flittered through the air.  Experience told her the gusts it would bring white outs.  She had almost reached the door when she heard the roar of a lone motor bike getting closer, then tires crunching gravel.  She turned to see a black figure sitting perched on the huge beast of a machine. Then the engine cut. 

         It wasn’t anyone she knew, she thought.  Most locals couldn’t afford such a luxury, only hard core cyclists or crazy rowdies road such things at this time of the year.  And this one was alone. A shiver ran down her spine. 

         Staring into the whip of white, Millar watched as the cyclist slipped from his perch.  Hands bound in black leather reached up to dislodge his helmet.  The snow drove harder and the figure was cloaked in white, even wearing black leather she could not make him out. 

         She stood stock still waiting, held there by an unmistakable presence.  Moments later the figure wavered into view.  He was closer than she expected and he towered over her.

         She gasped and her eyes widened.  Familiarity seized her and she struggled to gain her breath.
         “Sorry.”  Came a deep rumble that found its way through the wind.  “Didn’t mean to startle you.  This weather…it wasn’t called for.....”

         At that moment the door jerked open and her grandmother stared out at them.  “What are you waiting for?  Get in here and bring him too.  I got my shovel if he does anything.” 

         Millar could not help smiling at her wily, grey haired grandmother who could wield that shovel with deadly accuracy if need be.  She passed by her and felt him behind her.

         “Thank you kindly, ma’am.”  He said as he passed into the room and looked down at the wee woman who firmly slammed the door behind him.

         “Don’t understand why you’d be out this early in the season on one of those dastardly contraptions.”

         A rumbled laugh rolled out of him and Millar turned to see dark hair plastered against his forehead almost obscuring his mesmerizingly deep blue eyes.  Millar could not look away.  She tried to make sense of this.  Like most of the young motor cyclists who tracked these mountains, he was lean and lanky.  She could not help watching as he stripped off his backpack and leather jacket.  Looking at her, his mouth tipped up into a smile that twigged Millar’s unsteady heart.  She drew in a breath, forcing herself to turn away and peel her own wet jacket from her body.  The wet cold was already seeping into her and she began to shiver.

         “Get over to the fire, the both of you.  I had a feeling storm was coming.  Lit the fire.  Thought we’d need it.  Glad ‘ole Linc let you off work early.  Second sense that man has…though he won’t admit it.”  She muttered the last part as she moved off towards the kitchen.  “Gonna fix some soup and cocoa.’ 

         Alone in the front room with him, Millar felt edgy.  She could feel his gaze on her and she trembled again, this time not from the cold as she was already standing by the fire. 

         He had slipped out of his leather gear and socks.  Barefoot he stood wearing jeans and a long sleeved jersey.  Looking dry and comfortable, except for his hair which he pushed back from his eyes.  Millar caught the gaze again and felt drawn in as the air escaped her.  She felt light headed. 

         Her grandmother moved back into the room carrying several towels.  “Millar, go get yourself changed.  You stay in those clothes; it’ll be the death of you…”

         Millar moved obediently.  She broke the eye contact and turned to go.

         “Now young man.  Tell me who you are?  If you’re going to be staying here awhile I expect to know who you are.”

         “Garrison Clark.” He told her in his deep rumble.  The sound skittered down Millar’s spine causing another tremble to erupt.  She picked up her pace, but her ears strained to catch the conversation. 

         “Where you from Garrison and why are you traipsing around these mountains so early in the season?”

         Millar could almost hear the smile in his voice as he answered her.  “Ontario, ma’am.  I go in school in Guelph.  Veterinary College.  I had to find someone...”

         “Find someone.  She from around here, Garrison?”

         “Yes, ma’am….”  That was the thing about her grandmother; she could pull the truth out of anyone, even a complete stranger.  Millar stood poised waiting for him to go on.

         “I was a rough year.  She left without saying good-bye.”

         It was quiet for a moment then she heard her grandmother say, “Girl trouble.”

         The chuckle that reached her was torn with truth.  Returning to the room she caught his nod.  Something about his openness with her grandmother told her this guy was not the typical rowdy.  He was young, but he was a good soul.  His eyes slid to hers and held.  Her heart flipped and stuttered. 

Keeping her gaze on him, Millar picked up a blanket.

         “I felt I needed to come here…” he began, his eyes capturing Millar’s. “Needed to find out why she left.”

         The air felt charged. 

         “You two sit on the couch…. Share that blanket.” 

She glanced at her grandmother and caught the wink just as the woman left the room. 

         The room seemed to shrink. 

         “You gonna tell me why now.”  The whispered hasp of his voice rumbled out and strummed across her taunt nerves.

         He moved the short distance that separated them in this tiny house.  Gazing into her eyes, he reached for the blanket and her hand.  She let him take them both and moved to the couch with him. Still not saying a word, they sat and when she lowered her head to stare down at her hands, he took her chin and gently lifted it so that her eyes had to meet his again.

         “I need to know why, Millar.  You were angry.  I get that, but you need to know Sarah is only a friend now.”

         “A friend.”  she squeaked unable to stop the tremble of anger in her voice. 

         The look on her face told him she was still angry, but also shocked at seeing him.

         “A friend, Millar and yes, we did date when we were younger, but it did not work out.  We decided friendship was the better...”

         “She does not act like friendship is all she wants, Garrison.”

         Garrison waited knowing she had more to say, the pause only indicated she needed to rein in her emotions.  He watched he bite at her lips pressing them together.  She closed her eyes a moment, then opened them and looked straight into his. 

         “She hangs on you whenever she sees you....”

         “She was drunk...”

         “She’s not drunk every time she sees you and she’s all over you every time.”

         “She’s always been a touchy feely kind of girl.”

         “Only with you, Garrison.  Besides she told me she wanted you back and that I was just...”

         “What?” that had him leaning forward, “When?”

         Millar glanced towards the kitchen doorway.

         “Millar, tell me.”

         “After the night at the Bullring...”

         Garrison frowned but waited for her to go on.

         “She came to see me.”

         “What?” Now he looked confused and his frown deepened.

         “She told me... I was just a....” Millar hesitated as if not wanting to say.  When she went to look away again, he took another hold of her chin, turning her face back to his and tipped it up to  look deeply into her eyes.

         “She called me some names... I will not repeat them.”

         He swore just under his breath as he let her chin go.  Standing he moved to pace closer to the fire, “What else did she say?”

         Millar dipped her chin down and stared at her hands that she rubbed and squeezed.  Taking a deep breath she continued, “she told me it was only a matter of time before you would come to your senses and take her back.  I was merely a slutty plaything.”

         Rage fueled through him and he fought it back not wanting to yell in the presence of her grandmother, but the whole thing was... “Ludicrous.”

         She looked up at his viper tone, her eyes widened.

         He turned back to her, “That’s just crazy, bullshit.”  He said fighting to keep his voice restrained.

         Millar’s eyes flared, “I am not making this up...”

         He moved back to her then and grabbed her hands as she made to get up.  “No... no... not you.  I am not angry with you.”

         She watched him and saw concern roll across his features.  She relaxed a bit.

         Shaking his head, he looked down clutching her hands in his own.  “I can’t believe she did that.”  he whispered.  Looking up into her eyes, he said, “She lied.  All lies.  It is over for me with her. Do you understand that?”

         His blue eyes implored her.  Seeing the desperateness there she nodded slightly.

         He pulled her into him so that he was but a hairs breath from her.  “I love you, Millar Campbell. You. Only you can make me crazy enough to borrow my brother’s motor cycle and drive the Cape Breton Highway at this time of year.”

         A crook of a smile tipped her lips and he let out a relieved laugh.  “Only you.”  he breathed when he caught his breath, then leaning in he captured her lips in a kiss so desperate, so full of desire she felt her body melt with the intensity.  She relaxed and let his tongue surge into her mouth.  There was no hesitation.  It was passionate power.  She could only tangle her tongue with his.    His moan sent a thrill through her and she answered with one of her own.  Forgetting for a moment that they were not alone.  His hands roved up and down her back. 

         It was not until her grandmother began to sing as she made her way back to the living room that where they remembered where they were.  They broke apart.  Breathing heavy they leaned their foreheads into each other and smiled into each other’s eyes. 



Words = 1717.