Well, here goes! Here's an excerpt from a book I'm working on called Big Girl Diary. The bad news: I don't have names for the characters. The good news: That's where your imagination comes in and you can name them (I'll even take suggestions for the names).
Hope you enjoy!
I sat there in the coffee shop, facing the door as I always did in my back corner. My Nicholas Sparks book lay open next to my cup of coffee, which swirled around while I stirred as the glass of the cup and the spoon clinked together, almost making a rhythmic sound. But when I came back to reality, I looked down and saw the mess I had made on my book. It was the one Nicholas Sparks had autographed for me at the book signing I went to the summer after my freshman year of college, and I frantically grabbed the napkin in an effort to save the page. Thankfully my timing was perfect and the only evidence of the book being tainted was the wet napkin that was next to my cell phone. But why had I become so distracted? Oh yeah, I recalled, because of him.
He had walked in and the first thing that caught me was the scruff that made up his facial hair. Okay, maybe it was more like a five o’clock shadow but either way, it made me notice him. He pulled out the wallet from his back pocket as he walked up to the counter, and I watched as his arm muscles flexed and practically bulged out from his black t-shirt. His physique made me wonder what sort of profession he was into or if he was just one of those guys who worked out all the time. Either way, whatever he was doing, he needed to keep it up.
The next attention grabber was the bright smile he flashed at the barista behind the counter. He gave her a crooked smile and because I was too far from earshot, I could only see them carry what I believed to be a light conversation. You know, the “how are you” responded with “I’m well, how are you” type of scenarios. And because I hadn’t mastered reading people’s lips yet—which I admit, I’m working on it—I had no clue what he ordered.
The next thing I knew, though, was my coffee had spilled on my all time favorite book and I was in a panic, but I had managed to save my book. But as I stole a glance of myself in the small reflection of the coffee spoon, I knew that this fantasy would end here at the coffee shop—me in my corner of solitude and he would walk out of that door, nothing said between us—because I knew he would never go for a girl like me.
Copyright 2011 Belinda Serrano. All rights reserved.
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