New Book Series: The Things I Can't Say (Working Title)

OPENING REMARKS:

So I've been writing this new trilogy, and for the first time, I think I can write the whole novel. I like the characters and the story, and it's not so extravagant. I never thought I would like to write about mundane things, but I think it fits me well. Growing up has changed not just how I think but also what makes sense to me. See, none of the fantasy stuff or paranormal stuff scares me anymore. You've grown up the minute you start living paycheck to paycheck and stop thinking about what I'm gonna get for Christmas and what groceries I need for the week. This story is about growing up and finding community. Without further ado, here is my new novel's first opening 2 chapters.

The Things I Can't Say (Working Title)

Chapter 1 - The Mind Of Me, Lynn

My name is Lynn Waters, and here are the essentials I think you should know if you decide to read my story..I don’t like it when there are long lines or traffic. Sometimes, I think if everyone disappeared, I would feel

less alone. I don’t like the feeling of prickly legs when I’m trying to sleep. I read more than most people

I’ve met, to the point of being made fun of for it. I would rather listen to old classics than new hits. I don’t

love bars, but I like dancing to old songs in the mirror alone. I hate when men hit on me in public, but I get

sad when I don’t get hit on by guys when I go out. I abuse two substances, coke and coffee, to all new

levels. I have a severe fear that life is meaningless. I like things neat and put together, but only if I’m

the one cleaning. Sometimes, I think about all the things I have or haven't done and spend all night upset

with myself. I don’t feel I deserve love, or at least not the kind I want. I hate walking past big groups

of girls alone because I know they think I’m a loner (and I am, but it is 100% by choice). Sometimes,

I feel like people think I’m boring because I don’t smoke or drink much. I think we should all have to

take public transit everywhere (subways preferably). I like being alone, especially in my car, because

I can sing as loud as I want. When I think about my life, I see myself alone and poured into my work.

I hate it when things are perfect. I listen to the same song over and over again until I can’t stand

it anymore. I think about animals I'm going to have in the future instead of kids. I think everyone

should adopt at least one child (if wealthy enough to support them) because there are far too many

children out there who deserve a chance at life. I think the mountains are prettier than the ocean, but

the ocean is more relaxing on a hot day. I like seeing movies alone at the theater. After a good movie,

my brain needs a solid 24-48 hours of processing. When I dream about myself, I see someone who

doesn't look like me. I’m more scared of things always being the same than things changing. I think

love is over-glamorized, yet I still idolize Pride & Prejudice. I think America is going to fall apart.

I don’t understand why politicians can’t find a compromise. I like the cold more than the warmth.

I think about tomorrow before finishing today. When I hear my name, I feel like it doesn't fit me.

I’ve never felt as though it was mine. Sometimes I remember things that never happened. I find solace

on rainy days, but I think umbrellas are embarrassing. I go through my life wandering, not sure where

I’m gonna end up. I used to think I liked blue, but recently, I’ve taken an interest in the shades and

hues of green. I want to believe in something more than nothing. I question everything, even sometimes

my sanity. I’m scared that I will go to a therapist and get diagnosed with a million different things.

I wonder if people fall in love like in movies. I think hair and jewelry are two of the best accessories

to any outfit. I try not to sit too long in a certain space. Otherwise, I feel trapped. I have always had this

strange feeling that I’m going to be wealthy in the future. I fall asleep on fishing boats. I love my family

more than life itself. I think that no one knows me, but then I think that’s just because I don’t know

myself. I overthink the little things and act impulsively on the big ones. Sometimes, I convince myself

things didn't happen to not deal with the present. And lastly, my two favorite foods are sushi and Thai food. 

So, if you're still here (and I’m guessing you're not), then congratulations. You know all the things

I try not to say out loud. When you read my side of the story, picture me as you see me. Don’t try to

find a picture of me otherwise, it loses all its charm. Anyway, here’s my version of the story. 

Chapter 2 - Green tea shots should be illegal

I just graduated college and am working at some dingy office in Seattle, which is cool, I guess.

The air in Washington feels thinner, softer than I'm used to coming from the south. I've been here for

about two months and made two friends, which is good for me. I have a hard time opening up. It's

probably some trauma from something that happened long ago that I haven't resolved yet. I don't

dote on things I can't fix. It will probably just spike my cortisol and give me a panic attack. So I

pour myself like a pitcher of OJ into a wine glass; I make it work, make it fit. Not everything is perfect,

and far be it from me to try to conform to the way people believe I should. My hair color changes so

often that no one says anything about it anymore. I could go from dark brown to green, and besides

the occasional glance from random people on the street, I doubt anyone in my life would even notice.

I think I dye it so much, hoping to find some magical, perfect color that completely changes everything

about me. Deep down, I know it's just hair color. As for the friends I've made, the first one's name is Jullie.

Jullie works at the publishing house with me. She's got long dark brown hair and caramel eyes. She's

like if honey and cinnamon had a baby. She works in the children's book department. She writes kids

books in her free time, but she says that they are all shit and never submits them. I do the same

with my screenplays, so I never say anything. Jullie is also my roommate. I was staying with a family friend

when I first moved to Seattle, and then I saw Julie's flier in the break room. I texted her, and in a few days,

we were signing a lease to a two-bedroom apartment. Jullie likes to go to bars and wear tight tops to

show off her cleavage, and she usually drags me along with her. I don't mind going though. Jullie

says she's searching for a husband, but I don't think that's true. My second friend, Gracie, who lives

two doors down from us and is a folk singer, has quickly become our third honorary roommate. One

night, Jullie and I were coming home from the bars, and there Gracie was arguing with her boyfriend

Roger at the time, guitar in hand. Roger was yelling at her and pulling her around like a rag doll. I

asked her if she was okay, and she shook her head. A few moments later, Roger released her arm, and

she ran to us. We all rushed into our apartment like dogs for ham. Gracie said she came back to her

apartment and found Roger having sex with Gracie's male best friend, Parker. Now Parker and Roger

are dating. After that day, Gracie has become a good friend. She hangs out at our apartment every day.

We even made her a key. They help me get out of my shell and try new things, which is good. Today is

Jullie's 23rd birthday, and Gracie and I are getting ready to go to some new club Jullie’s friend works at.

I don't care much for clubs. The dancing, the heat generated by an abundance of bodies packed into a

small club like sardines in a tin can, the watery or heavy-handed drinks. All of these things together

make for a complete disaster, but hopefully, it will be fine for one night. Gracie is picking out some

dress she thinks will look good on me while Jullie does my eye makeup. I'm good at doing makeup,

but I know Jullie likes to do people's makeup, so I usually just let her do mine. When I look in the mirror,

I realize that Jullie added a lot of black eyeshadow around my eyes. I looked scary, but in a weird, sexy

way. The next thing I know, Gracie is shoving me into this tiny black dress. They don't even give me

a chance to look at my reflection before pulling me out the door to the Uber. It's a dark Nissan with

Washington plates. Gracie got in the passenger seat even though she could have very well gotten into

the back of the car with Jullie and me. She always does this. She's determined that everyone has a story.

She wants to hear as many as she can before she dies. I think that's pretty cool. 

“So, how's your night been going so far,” says Gracie as she leans her head back to take a shot of

Titos.

“There is no drinking alcohol in this car. Put that away.” said the Uber driver in a stern voice.

“Oh, don't worry I'm gonna put the bottle back in my purse. Come on, loosen up, Joe,” says

Gracie in a laughing tone.

The Uber driver just stares out at the road, annoyance etched in every dark corner of his broad face.

“You know, I see that you've been going through something, and I just want you to know that

you're not alone. You've got a lot more people in your corner than you think you do,” proclaims

Gracie as she squints her eyes.

The Uber driver finally looks away from the road.

“My wife and I are getting a divorce. She’s dating some 20-year-old male model. I mean, I can't

compete with that! He's got 8% body fat, for fuck sake,” says Joe, the Uber driver. 

“Joe, you're a catch! Fuck 8% body fat, I like a man with a little meat on his bones. If your

wife doesn’t agree, then fuck her.”

“Do you have a boyfriend,” Joe asks suggestively, looking at Gracie in the passenger seat.

“Ew, Joe, focus! You need to get your shit together. Do you want your wife or not?”

“I- yes, I want my wife.”

Gracie gave Joe a menacing smirk. The last thing I heard before I stopped listening was, “First, you gotta

use the middle-.”

Outside the window, I watched bright buildings moving in and out of sight. Some buildings were brick

or wood, and others were windows galore. Sometimes, I think about how the buildings must feel watching

people come and go as they please while they sit patiently waiting for the day they get torn down. Once

they are nothing but old nails and broken wood, they finally get to move and travel, seeing the world in

motion for the first time. You’ll realize I personify almost everything. 

The next thing I remember, Gracie was opening my door and pulling me onto the sidewalk in front of

the club. 

“Here, drink these,” Gracie said, handing both me and Julie 3 tiny bottles of Tito’s. 

“I’m okay. Once I get in there, I’ll get some guy in a sports jersey to get us some drinks,”

responded Julie.

I, on the other hand, was not particularly ready for the club, especially sober, so Tito’s it was.

I took each shooter quickly. The two girls watched with mixed looks of horror and pride.

“Alright, we ready?” I said as I strolled past them to the end of the line. 

They joined me shortly after, both still looking slightly shocked.

“ID,” yelled a big man with tattoos covering his arms and neck. 

“Here,” said Gracie sweetly, giving him her ID first. 

The bouncer waved her through fast. Then Jullie went next, and the guy looked at her ID for two

seconds before letting her in. He even told her to have a happy birthday. Then he got to me. His brows

furrowed, and he looked more mad than I had ever seen him. 

“ID,” he said.

I handed it to him, smiling, but he didn’t care. 

“What’s your birthday?”

“Oh umm, 10/27/2000.”

“Show me your Instagram.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m the big bad bouncer, and you're completely reliant on me to get into this club.”

“Fine. Here is my Instagram.”

He scrolled through for longer than I thought necessary. 

“Not a lot of pictures of you. You should have more pictures of yourself on your Instagram.”

“I’m sorry, so what’s the verdict? Can I get in or not?”

The bouncer looked me up and down for a full minute.

“Go on in. I’m off at 1. Maybe I’ll see you there-.”

Before he could finish his sentence, I ducked under his arm and walked into where my two friends stood.

“Jeez, what was that all about?” said Jullie.

“I honestly don’t know. He critiqued my Instagram.”

“Well, I mean-,” said Gracie.

“What’s so wrong with my Instagram?”

“It’s just kinda boring. Not very personal. Plus, you have like no pictures of yourself on there.”

“I need a drink,” I said, holding my head as Gracie and Jullie laughed behind me.

The air was warm and damp, like Louisiana in the summer. I could feel sweat pooling everywhere,

even between my fingers. Jullie is leaning over the bar, flirting with a guy in a backward Red Sox cap.

Gracie, on the other hand, wouldn’t let me leave the dance floor. She pulled and pleaded and then pulled

some more, keeping me a slave to the dance floor until 1:30 AM. Then she decided we should have a

small water break to refuel before going back out on the dance floor. All I knew was that I had a window,

I’ll be a very small one, but still. If I could just find places to go and things to do for an hour thirty,

I would be off the hook since all the bars close at 3 AM. 

“I want the biggest glass of ice water you have, please,” said Gracie proudly as she wiggled her

way onto the stool that was far too tall for her. 

“And what about you? Do you want a giant ice water as well,” asked the bartender.

I nodded, and before I knew it, two large hands gripping even larger cups were in front of me. 

“Oh, you've outdone yourself, mister this looks incredible,” yelled Gracie as she swiped the water

from his hand, guzzling it down in record time.

Shit. I'm not even going to get ten minutes of peace before I'm out there sweating my metaphorical balls

off. My brain, in fight-or-flight mode, made the all-too-risky decision to “accidentally” pour ice water

on the guy next to me, who I'd later learn was Luke. He was turned around, so I just poured a small

amount on his back. 

I know this seems rash, and it was, but when you're overheating and tired and slightly drunk, I'm sure

you'd probably do anything at a chance to not go back to the wretched dance floor that made you tired

and overheated in the first place. 

Luke was mad at first, but he softened pretty quickly. In the bright flashing lights, his eyes looked almost

black, but in natural sunlight, you'd see all the specks of gold and green and yellow that make up his

irises. His hair was raven, and it had that effortless thing to it. Nothing I could definitively say was the

culprit for his perfect aloof hair, but if I had to compare it to something, I would compare it to the way

Blake Lively’s hair looks throughout Gossip Girl. He oozes charm, but I'm not much for things that ooze.

Honestly, I find them quite gross.

“I think some of your drink spilled onto my shirt. Do you want me to get you another drink?

Maybe a beer or something,” said the charming Luke in all his charismatic glory.

“No, not looking to be roofied tonight. Oh, but sorry about the, um, spillage,” I said, looking down

at the now empty glass of water in my hand, uninterest probably written all over my face. 

Sometimes, I spontaneously realize I have free will. This would be one of those times. The last thing I

wanted to do was be in conversation with this raven-haired, jersey-wearing boy that Jullie would no doubt

eat for dinner.

“Fine then. Have fun sweating your ass off while being dragged around like a little rag doll by that

friend of yours.”

See, usually, I would just walk away and ignore him, but again, I was hot and pissed and not letting some

Jersey boy talk badly about my friend or me.

“I'm sorry, is there some poster on my forehead that says save me? Or a glass slipper on the

staircase that so happens to magically only fit my foot?”

I looked at Luke disdainfully before cutting him off to speak again.

“I didn't think so. Whatever makes you think that you can speak to people in such a manner,

whether it's daddy's money or mommy's false praise, be sure that your arrogance makes you

anything but interesting. As for my friend, you have no idea what our friendship is like, so you

don't get to speak about it-”

“Well, actually, the fact that this is a free country and that the First Amendment exists does make

me entitled to talk about virtually anything I want to. And as of now, I really wanna talk about

this hostility you seem to have towards me. I didn’t know being devilishly handsome caused so

many problems.”

I could feel my heartbeat in my neck as my hands found their way into fists. Screaming felt like the wrong

move, so instead, I decided to be witty and charming and beat him at his own game.

“You’re right. You're just so handsome with your brown, sparkly eyes and wild, expresso-colored

curly hair. I am pretty thirsty. I’d love an extra dirty whisky martini, please,” I said in the most

convincingly poised voice I could manage. 

“A whisky martini? I’ve never heard of that, are you sure that’s what you want?” He asked.

“You’ve never had a whisky martini? It sounds weird, I know, but it's amazing. It's like happiness

in a martini glass.”

“You don't drink that, do you?”

“Luke, I'm telling you about my secret go-to drink. I'm giving you insight only my closest friends

know. At least give it a try before you hate on it.”

Luke took a small sip. His eyebrows were knit together until the drink hit his taste buds. He looked down

at the drink, then at me. The next thing I know, he's just about finished my entire martini and was already

ordering us two more. For some weird reason, I felt like I could talk to him. Maybe I shouldn't have, but I

couldn't help myself. While he was taking a sip of his new martini, I leaned over and talked close to his ear.

It was so loud I had to yell, which I'm not used to, but he didn't seem to mind. If anything, it seemed like he

liked it.

“See the girl next to me?”

Luke nods.

“Well, she’s my roommate, Gracie. Gracie loves to dance. She could dance for days without even

wanting to stop. She finally decided to stop to get some water before going back out there, but the

giant water I thought would save me was guzzled down in a minute flat. So I thought maybe talking

to you would grant me some time.”

Luke straightens his back, and I pull away from his ear. He takes a long swig of his beer before turning to

me. He winks at me quickly.

“Hey, I’m Luke.”

He reached his hand out to meet mine resting on the bar. 

“Oh, hi. I’m Lynn,” I said, shaking his hand. 

Electricity. If I could make a physical spark, I’m sure it would have happened. The best way I can explain

it is like two magnets that haven’t found their match finally finding each other, at least on my side. He’s

probably connected with lots of other women before. 

“Do you live in Seattle, or are you just visiting,” he asked.

“I just moved here about a month ago.”

I pointed at Julie, who was laughing and flirting with a backward-cap guy at the bar.

“See the girl in pink with a crown and birthday sash on at the bar?”

He took a minute, scanning the bar. Then he nodded.

“That’s Julie. She and I are roommates. We work together at Wilson & Harmon Publishing. It’s her

23rd birthday today, and she, for some reason, thinks she’s going to find her husband here.”

“Her future husband is my roommate.”

I laugh slightly.

“Her and Gracie, the dancing queen over there, are my two best friends-“ I said until I was cut off

by a familiar face.

Roger. Roger and Parker. I had only met them once or twice. Gracie was pretty supportive of their

relationship. We had been out with them for drinks a few times, but nothing major.

“Oh my God, I love this dress. It is the moment,” said Parker excitedly.

For reference, the only things I wear are sweaters, oversized button-ups, and oversized jeans or sweats.

I’m not big on dressing up, but Gracie had begged me to pick my outfit, and I didn’t have a chance to think

about what I was wearing before I was thrust out the door. 

“Thanks, Parker. Hey Roger.”

The two of them looked at me and then Luke, probably expecting an introduction.

“Oh, this is Luke. I spilled my water down his back.”

“On purpose?” Asked Roger.

I shrugged, and Roger and Parker laughed. Then, out of nowhere, Gracie came from behind and pushed

herself between them.

“So, what’s happening over here,” Gracie asked as she smiled at the group.

“We are meeting Lynn’s Luke,” said Parker with a Hollywood billboard smile.

“Lynn’s Luke? You’re Lynn’s Luke,” asked Gracie as she pointed a well-manicured figure towards

Luke.

“Well, I'm not sure.”

Luke was giving me a sideways smile while scratching his head. Roger and Parker winked at me,

connecting me to reality. I never talked to guys or went on dates, so I knew what they were all thinking.

Now, I’m going to be berated with questions, and I can’t muster up an ounce of energy to care. All I want

is to drink 3 glasses of ice water, take a hot shower, put on my comfy pj’s and go to bed. But I can’t. So

I decided to drink.

“Shots. We need lots of shots,” I said to the group. 

“Alright, how do you feel about green tea shots? I know your favorites are Pickle shots, but they

are just so nasty I truly And sincerely cannot spend my hard-earned money on that. Anyways,

Bank of America won’t allow it,” said Parker as he shot up and out of his seat towards the bar.

Luke laughed. I guess I wasn’t getting a pickle shot. 

“Can I ask you a weird question, does Lynn get whiskey martinis,” asks Luke to Roger and Gracie.

“She does. She’s very strange, you’ll soon realize. But that’s what makes Lynn, Lynn. If you tell

her any of your dark secrets or anything you think is weird about yourself, she’ll probably find a

way to one of you,” said Gracie while ogling Luke and me.

“I think weird is pretty cool,” Luke said as he did his side smile in my direction. 

“And by the way, I could beat you on the weirdness scale, trust me.”

This time, when he looked at me, it felt like I was in pride and prejudice, in the scene where Mr. Darcy

dances Elizabeth around the dance floor, and everything and everyone goes away. His eyes are a soft

dark brown, like if dark chocolate and white chocolate had a baby and then covered that in liquid gold.

That was the last thing I remember, starting into milky, golden eyes as I downed shot after shot.