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One Scene from a possible Novel?
Hi everyone! I wrote just this one scene as a part of a writing challenge on another message board. I'm considering wrapping a novel around it.
…Emily James swung open the double doors that led out onto the balcony, and stepped out to enjoy the balmy southern evening breeze, allowing the wind to flutter her blonde hair about wildly. The Dauphine Hotel had been the perfect place in New Orleans to stay; at least that’s what she would have said seven days earlier, when she had first arrived, before she had met the enigmatic stranger whose name she had later discovered to be Royce Cassell. Emily gripped the wrought iron railing lining the edge of the balcony, and pressed herself against the iron, against the wind. She wanted to tempt fate now, she wanted to see what else she could do, how far she could push the boundaries.
Before Royce, before the accident and the shootings, she had never once considered that she, a meek teacher’s assistant vacationing away from her boring life in Richmond, Virginia, could have been capable of hurting another. But that bastard, that man who made her heart beat in rhythms she had never known existed, he had steered her irrevocably towards violence and disaster. There was a knock at the door, followed by the electronic click of the lock. No one else but she, the cleaning crew, and the hotel manager had access to her room. Someone had gained an extra keycard to her room, and Emily knew exactly who it was. Royce Cassell, the tall, well-muscled vision of the consummate southern gentleman- and snake –walked into the room, his expensive polo shirt and slacks finely pressed, his dark hair slicked effortlessly back. The flickering flames of the candles Emily had lit cast Royce in an eerie, pale light that turned the sharp angles of his youthful face into ghoulish crags and jarring crevices, but she still couldn’t deny what she felt for the man, despite what he had dragged her through over the past week. Against her better judgment, Emily left the open air of the balcony and stepped back into the room and closer to Royce and his still foggy motives.
“What are you doing here Royce? I told you never to come near me again, not after what happened.”
“I’m sorry Emily, I really am, but you have to understand that that wasn’t my fault! I never intended on pulling you into this mess with Anthony!”
“That’s no excuse Royce, and if it is it’s a bad one.”
Emily walked past Royce, squeezing to get by his large frame in the small space, and pulled a sample bottle of vodka from within the mini-bar.
“I am not making excuses for anything Emily, and you damn well know it. If I didn’t love you as much as I do then I would have let that bullet kill you like it was supposed to!”
The impact of his indirect confession hit Emily like a physical blow, and she dropped the bottle of vodka, but luckily the tiny glass container simply bumped against the plush carpet.
“What did you just say…?”
Emily stalked towards Royce and moved to slap him, but instead she slipped on the bottle of vodka and fell into his arms. She still tried to slap him, but Royce wrapped both of his large hands around her wrists and pulled her even closer to him.
“I hate you Royce, you know that? I think you’re a bastard for what you’ve done.”
Royce looked down at Emily and smiled a gentleman’s smile; and Emily remembered that it was that same smile that had wooed her into his arms while she visited the shops along the French Quarter six days ago.
“I hate you too Emily, without all of the excessive name-calling.”
Royce leaned in to kiss her, but Emily kept trying to free herself. Finally Royce pressed his lips against hers, despite her struggling. He pressed against her even further, and finally she gave in, allowing herself to fall deep into his kiss. Emily knew this was bad, very bad…
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Traveling The World, One Dream At A Time
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