Hello all! Today is one of those days where nothing seems to go right. And yes, I’m aware I should get up when my alarm clock tells me to, but sometimes, I don’t want to. We’ve all been there. Anyway, to lighten the mood, here’s our favorite gal Julie Jones in an excerpt from 32 Seconds – to be released this winter.
Ruffling through the contents of my locker, I was looking for my Spanish class syllabus. I needed a one-on-one to organize my crap a bit more efficiently. Since no one had volunteered to teach me that basic life lesson, I struggled to find the darn syllabus.
And gosh knew how much I hated Spanish.
As I started losing my cool—and losing my cool meant ruffling through the locker while tearing apart half the shizzle that was in there—I heard a voice.
“Yeah, man, that was a decent play, but look at Griggs, how he tackled that SOB. That, my man, was priceless.”
Distracted from my locker rage, I froze and held my breath. Slowly peeking around the edge of the half-open locker door, my heart went on a full roller coaster ride as I studied the owner of the voice as discretely as possible.
His wet blonde hair stuck to the back of his neck, his skin glistening from the shower he had just taken. The scent of his deodorant reached my nostrils—peppermint! He was chatting with two other guys whose names I didn’t know. My sixth sense told me these three belonged to the football team. When my eyes locked with those of the owner of the voice, butterflies ran havoc inside my stomach and broke the cocoon between my legs. Embarrassed, I blushed and muttered inaudible insults at myself.
“What’s up, nerd?” the cute guy fired, obviously amused by my reaction.
I jumped and swallowed my words. “Um, um nothing. All done here.” I didn’t care about the syllabus anymore. Slamming the door of my locker, I fought with the lock while the three guys watched me, giggling. Where was the next space shuttle to the farthest end of the universe? I’d sell my soul to jump in and fly the heck out of there.
“See ya later, nerd!” the owner of the voice said, as I scooted away as fast as my legs allowed, and found shelter a few minutes later in the ladies’ room.
Crapola! How could my lower parts explode in such a fashion just by glancing at him? Of course, this wasn’t the first time my lady butterfly decided to take a hike and surprise me with delightful wetness in my underpants, but never had I been the victim of such deviousness when in eye contact with a real guy! My sexual discovery had been restricted to hot scenes in books, or in the movies I watched online at night.
I jumped. In the mirror I saw a girl with heavy, black makeup and the outfit of a vampire turned grunge queen overnight, standing behind me. Heart pounding at one hundred miles per hour inside my chest, I turned around.
“Hey,” I said back, not to be rude. What the heck did this chick want? Embarrass me more?
“We’re in math and Spanish together. Susan,” the girl said.
Distracted by her nose ring, I made a face. She probably misunderstood my expression for confusion, but I stayed cool and brushed an invisible hair off my jacket sleeve. Why was she talking to me? Now was really not a good time.
I cleared my throat. “Yeah, I know who you are,” I answered, and swallowed, only to hit a huge lump in my throat.
She smiled and stepped closer to the mirror to check her make-up.
“Mind if I give you a little piece of advice?” she asked.
I stared at her in disbelief. Okay, this little surprise encounter seriously deserved an explanation.
“What kind of advice?” I asked back, while repositioning my heavy back pack on my shoulder. What was I carrying in there? A whole artillery of machine guns?
“Stay away from losers like Dan Goldberg,” Susan said.