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Post by mala1152 on Feb 17, 2010 16:04:09 GMT -5
ok, so i know its taken me a long time to post my sequel. its taken me a long time to write it, due to medical issues and the death of a friend. its also REALLY long, so sry about that i had ideas for two separate stories, so i just combined them into one big one!!! i hope u like it, it's called 'Remember.'
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Post by mala1152 on Feb 17, 2010 16:06:44 GMT -5
ok i really hope u like it!!! this is a really short post, i know, but i have homework...!Prologue In New Jersey, it was nearing fall, a time of change: the leaves changed color, school began again, the weather became nippy. And, most importantly (for me, anyway), I would have to bear it without Damian. After Damian left to go back to Ireland, I was more or less a wreck for about a week. Mack had to come over almost every night for a week before I remotely had some sort of control over myself. It was a while before I started to feel like myself again; it was as though half of me had left. Summer was half over when he returned to Ireland, so I had about a month to try to pull myself together before school started. Everything just seemed . . . pointless. I did not think I had a reason to go back home every day, because Damian would not be waiting next door at the O’Reilley’s house. It took me some time to get used to that, to the fact that I would not come home and see his bright blue eyes shining in my direction or kicking a soccer ball around or humming quietly; I would have to be patient and wait to see him again. Which, hopefully, should not be too difficult, seeing as Celtic Thunder was about to go on tour again. But who is to say that I would have the opportunity to see Damian again? I should not let myself think these things, but my mind wanders quite often to Damian. I just miss him so much . . . We have been keeping in contact, as we both promised. We call each other as often as possible without running up the cost of the long-distance phone calls, which is about three or four times a week. Letters and pictures have been sent and received, but sparingly. Emails have been helpful, considering they don't cost anything and are faster than letters. I miss his voice most of all, so smooth and deep and . . . there are no words to describe it! But every time I hear his thickly accented voice on the phone, I cherish each syllable, hang on every word, captivated. It's not the same, though. It did not take my mother long to notice that I wasn't being myself. I was moping around and depressed all the time for the first few weeks, and she caught on. I ended up telling her everything, about how Damian and I continued to see each other without her knowing, and that we still talked to each other. Naturally, Mom was furious, but learned to accept the fact that Damian and I were in a relationship, but not before she grounded me - severely. It was fine with me; where else would I have gone? What else would I have done without Damian? Mack was eventually sick and tired of my skulking, and snapped me out of it really quickly. Sure, I still get depressed when I think of Damian and me literally being a world apart, but now it doesn't affect my everyday life as much. I still miss him so much . . . ill update tomorrow...or maybe tonight, if i finish my hw early feedback feedback feedback!!!
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Post by mala1152 on Feb 18, 2010 15:43:56 GMT -5
should i be posting this elsewhere, since its a sequel??? im confuzzled....but heres the next bit.
Chapter 1
. . . But life goes on. That's what I keep telling myself. So why does it seem to move so slowly? It's Saturday, a week before school starts. I'm dying to see Damian again, whether or not it's in concert or in person. That's why I am constantly at the computer, checking to see the ticket sale dates for the upcoming Celtic Thunder tour. The closest concert to me is in Montclair, New Jersey, in October and I am desperate for tickets! I have the money saved up - a total of $168.43 - from babysitting and other odd jobs. Now if the tickets would just come on sale already . . . The phone rings, and I get up to answer it. The caller ID says that it's Mom. "Hello?" "Abby . . . what are you doing?" "Take a wild guess." I reply sarcastically, but not disrespectfully. "Hm. Then get your butt away from the computer and start loading the dishwasher, please!" She didn't say it with a biting tone, Mom said it nicely. Ever since I came clean with her about Damian, we have been getting along smashingly well. A new sort of trusting relationship has developed. "We have people coming over tonight," she continued, "And I want the house spotless." "Who's coming over?" "Oh, just some colleagues of mine are coming over for dinner." Ever since Mom got a promotion at the hospital she worked at, there've been countless dinners that I've been dragged along to. "Do I have to stay for this one?" I asked, whining a little. "Well, Abby, it IS our house, so you probably should be there! Where would you want to be, anyway? Please don't tell me you made plans with Mack or somebody already." She is always so difficult . . . I sighed. "No, Mom, I didn't make plans, and I'll be there, now, ya happy?" I started to get a little snappy, so I took a deep breath to calm myself. "But how about I only stay for a bit, then can go over Mack's or something?" She hesitated, considering it. "Fine," she said. "But you have to stay for at least an hour, hon. And I have to go; tell your brothers to clean their rooms. I'm almost home, but I am getting some stuff from the grocery store." "Alright," I said. "Love you, bye." "Love you, bye." This was how we ended every conversation on the phone. I hung up and walked slowly back to the computer. I looked again at the Celtic Thunder homepage, and at the face of the person I loved too much for words. Damian's eyes shone at me, even from the computer, just like last summer, lying on the beach . . . And without another thought, I shut off the computer. Chapter 2
My twin little brothers, Sam and Nathan, were busy upstairs cleaning their rooms, and I had just finished loading the dishwasher and putting away stray things from the kitchen table when I heard my cell phone vibrate from a few feet away. I walked over to the counter and checked the caller ID. It was Damian! A huge grin spread across my face as I opened my phone and answered it. "Hey, Damian." "Hey, Mala. How's it goin'?" I sighed. "It's going . . . school starts in a week. But until then, I have barely left the computer! I need some tickets to Montclair, and they still haven't gone on sale!" He chuckled, and I marveled at the lovely sound. "You're so funny. Don't you think I could get you tickets if you wanted them? I mean, I'm IN the show!" Why didn't I think of that? But for a moment, I overlooked my stupidity and became giddy - this means I would almost surely see Damian this fall! If he could get me tickets, then he would be able to see me! This was fantastic! "Oh my gosh, thank you thank you thank you!" I rambled, already flustered by this short conversation. "This is great!" "Ah, but ya know what's even better?" he asked, his voice thick with implications. There was a knock at the front door. "Hang on one sec, there's somebody here." I thrust open the front door to see a pair of lagoon blue eyes boring into mine. "I know," said Damian into the phone, smiling at me. "I gotta hang up now, a gorgeous girl just opened the door, and I have been dying to see her." And he shut his phone. "Damian!" I shrieked. I think I threw my phone, but I was not 100% sure; I doubt I had any actual thoughts in my head besides those concerning Damian. I jumped up and ensnared him in the biggest hug. He hugged me right back, lifting my feet right off the floor. I giggled, unable to form a cohesive thought. He was really here! In my house again! This was too good to be true, I must be dreaming. I was in shock; it's not every day that Damian just appears on my doorstep. But when he set me down on my feet and kissed me, I was sure that it was real, not a hallucination. This was our first kiss since we said goodbye over the summer, and it was so much better than I remembered. Both of our elation was thrown into this kiss, not a sad, farewell one like before. When we broke apart, I just hugged myself tightly to him. "I'm so glad you're here! But how?" I asked. "I'm doing some promoting for the tour on PBS, so most of the guys and Sharon are here. Not HERE here," he said when he saw the bewildered expression on my face, "I mean here, as in the States." "Oh," I said. Then a though popped into my head, and I silently cursed myself for voicing it. "How long?" We both abruptly became serious. "A week, give or take a day." he replied stiffly. I looked down so he could not see the sad expression on my face. Only a week? I have gone without seeing him for months, and I only get a week's reunion? I put on a brave face and stared into his angelic features. "Well, a week's better than nothing! Come on in." We walked to the living room and sat down on the couch. I was surprised at how quickly the tension gripped both our moods, bending it into unfamiliar awkwardness. Obviously, I would not bring up the subject of Damian's departure again. "How's Mack?" he asked me, breaking me out of my small reverie. "She's been great," I said. "She's really kept me together these past few months. Of course, she's still her nutty self." I said smiling. "But what about you? How will the new show be?" He beamed. "It's great so far! But don't expect me to go giving everything away, now . . . I wouldn't want to ruin the surprise for you! After all, it IS only your first Celtic Thunder concert." It was true; this would be my first one. "I know, I can't wait! Will I meet the rest of the guys this week?" My heart raced with anticipation. I thought that just meeting Damian was a blessing from the heavens, but the whole group . . . I could hardly fathom how much I would be spazzing. "Oh, yeah! I almost forgot!" His eyes perked up, his whole frame straightening. "We're doing some promotional stuff at the PBS station, and I wanted to see if you wanted to come." "Of course I want to come! Are you sure I wouldn't get in the way or anything? Like, am I allowed to be there?" He only laughed and said, "Mhmm." "Cool." I said calmly, although my heart rate quickened. Would they like me as much as Damian does? Would I be just another fan to them? What would I say? "So I'd get to meet Sharon and Phil and George and Paul and Keith and Ryan?" My voice sounded strained to my own ears; hopefully that sound did not pass on to Damian's. Apparently it did, because he said, "Mala, why do you sound so nervous? I'm sure they'll love you ALMOST as much as I do." He smiled, and I leaned in to give him a quick peck on the lips. "Love you, too." It was then that there was a noise coming from the garage - the sound of the garage door opening. I abruptly jumped up from the couch in panic. "Mom!" I whispered in shock. My mother had never met Damian! I had not exactly planned this moment, but I knew for sure that I did not want it to be like this, with Damian supposed to be in Ireland and all. I searched around wildly, my head spinning; I almost felt nauseas. Damian stood up next to me from the couch, grabbed my hand and stroked it gently. "Calm down, Mala, it'll be fine." "Fine?!" I shrieked. "It will not be fine! When we continued to see each other without her knowing, and for her to meet you like this . . . now . . ." I sighed and closed my eyes. A short introduction, then I could get out of this awkward, nerve-racking situation. Just push through it! "Alright, let's go." With my hand in his, we walked through the house, down three steps, and into the garage to where my mother was pulling in the car. This would be interesting . . . feedback feedback feedback!!!
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Post by mala1152 on Feb 19, 2010 18:52:38 GMT -5
lol nice theory, damianrocks...
Chapter 3 Her reaction totally threw me. She hugged him! She actually, really, legitimately, hugged him, right in front of me! I was flabbergasted. It was all simple, really. My dad's car was out of the garage, he was out on an errand. We stood off to the side while my mother pulled the car into the garage, and when she got out, she shot me a questioning look. I took a deep breath, gritted my teeth, stepped forward, and said clearly, "Mom, this is Damian. Damian, this is my mother." I stared back and forth from Damian to Mom, Mom to Damian, and so forth, looking for signs of distress. Instead, I got a bright smile from my mother and a timid one from Damian. My mother went up to Damian and actually embraced him in a warm hug. "It's so good to finally meet you!" she cried. My mouth gaped so far I thought that my jaw would hit the floor. She was GLAD to meet him?! I had been expecting a full-blown rage rampage from her, and this is how she chooses to react to meeting Damian? It just did not make any sense! She was supposed to be taken aback, shocked that this boy, who was supposed to be in Ireland, was now here, in our house, with me. Wasn't there some sort of unwritten, unspoken rule that says if you see a boy behind your mother's back, she was bound to be enemies with both of you? But there she was, giving him a hug right in front of me. What is the world coming to? When she finally let him go, she gestured for him to come inside. "Come on in, Damian, I've heard so much about you." Great. Now my mom was going to sit down and grill him with a whole bunch of awkward questions. Could this day get any worse?! "Oh, you two just go inside while I get these inside . . ." and she popped the trunk to get the groceries. "Here, let me help you with those!" said Damian politely. Such a gentleman. I thought to move and carry some bags in myself, but I was glued to the spot where I was, cemented in a cloud of my own astonishment. Everything was a little hazy, as if I was having a dream; I vaguely heard my mom thank Damian. He walked by with a few grocery bags in his arms, but on his way past me, he put his hand under my chin and clamped my mouth shut. He took one look into my stunned brown eyes and just laughed. I dazedly followed them both into the house, still prepared for the worst. "Well," Mom said when she had closed the door behind her. "Where are you two gonna go?" Just when I thought she had thrown all her surprises at me! It sounds like she would be okay with the idea of Damian and me going out together . . . right? So I just looked at Damian and said, "We were just gonna go for a walk, you know, just around." "Oh, that's fine, just be back here by three, Abby. I still need some help setting up for dinner." My mom replied. "Okay," I said, unsure. I began backing out of the house, towing Damian along. As soon as we reached the driveway, we both burst out in laughter. "You should've seen your face when my mom hugged you!" I said between giggles. "My face? Yours was priceless!" and he proceeded to do an imitation of my funny expression. We just continued to laugh about the day for a few more minutes, until we realized that we had no sense of direction whatsoever, and that we needed to find a place to head! "The beach?" I suggested. "Sure," responded Damian. We walked hand in hand toward the beach, and the whole time, it felt as if my heart was about to explode from excessive happiness. To have Damian here, holding his hand, able to kiss him . . . it was more than I could ask. We finally arrived at our own special, secluded part of the beach, where we had spent hours last summer just talking and spending time together. Now, I could not think of a better place to go than here. While keeping a close watch on time, we simply sat there, talking, laughing, sharing stories of our summer apart, but mostly just enjoying the other's presence.
hmmm...methinks that the replies are GREAT! lol it kinda sux that my story is on the second page of the damian board, when my first one was up, it got a lot more views on the first page....
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Post by mala1152 on Feb 19, 2010 19:42:57 GMT -5
ok, im a little excited about this new story, so two posts in one night! woohoo!!!Chapter 4 Unfortunately, time flies when you are having fun, so before we knew it, the time was nearing three o'clock, and I had to return home soon. I was determined to make sure that our day was far from over! My mom had said that I only had to stay home for the dinner for about an hour, so while she was entertaining her colleagues, I could be out with Damian! It was a perfect plan, so hopefully my mother would approve of it. When I ran it past her, she not only agreed, but she appeared to agree with good graces! I would definitely have to talk to her later tonight about where all this acceptance was coming from . . . but that was for later. Damian was for now! "Can you believe she actually agreed to that? Especially after what happened over the summer?" I asked Damian, who just shook his head no and raised his eyebrows. "So what time will you be able to get out of the house?" "Oh, I guess around seven-ish. Where do you wanna meet?" I asked. I am so glad I finally have my license; it was such a hassle for my friends and parents to have to drive me everywhere! "I don't know! You live here, I don't, remember?" he said with a chuckle. "Oh, shut up," I said with a playful shove. He shoved me back, and before I knew it, there was a full-fledged wrestling match going on in the front yard. I tossed and turned, whacked and flailed, but he had me pinned in a matter of a minute. (I thought I bore up pretty well, though.) So there I was, lying on the ground with Damian, laughing hysterically at basically nothing. “Okay, let me up, please. Next time, I won’t go easy on ya!” I laughed, and rolled his eyes. His brilliant, gorgeous blues eyes . . . I snapped myself out of my reverie and laughed again. He laughed with me. "So what were we even arguing about before?" My answer was a little short of breath. "No idea." I thought back for a few minutes, then just as I was about to answer, he yelped, "Ah, where we were gonna meet," and looked at me expectantly. "Okay, which hotel are you staying at? I could swing by and pick you up." "The Sleep Inn. Wh-" "Abby! Get inside! You're still not finished helping me!" cried my mom. "Argh," we said in unison. "Just be waiting in the lobby or outside or something, I'll be around at like quarter after." I said. "Okay," he said, finally letting me up off the ground. I stood and stretched, then placed my hands on his shoulders for a quick goodbye kiss on the cheek. I turned and went inside to endure what would seem to be the longest four hours of my life. I know it was a little short, but i was eager to post some more! and thanx, laurenne i have the BEST ending in mind, but thats for much, much later....! and ill have a nice, LONG update sometime this weekend!!!
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Post by mala1152 on Feb 22, 2010 9:17:27 GMT -5
im updating at school, so its gonna be really fast.... but its a REALLY long update, so be happy with it!
As time dwindled away, my mind was focusing on nothing else except Damian. Was an hour really supposed to be this long? Each time the second hand ticked, I could swear each tick was an hour long…time moves way too slowly. I was only half-aware of my mother's colleagues laughing and chatting around me at the dining room table, of the food on my plate, or the scent of delicious chocolate mousse in the kitchen. "Seven o'clock, seven o'clock," I kept chanting silently to myself. All my mom's colleagues arrived at six, and I only had to stay for an hour. Seven o'clock could not arrive fast enough! My phone, under my thigh in my chair, buzzed and vibrated silently, and I knew that it was seven. I eyed my mother meaningfully and asked to be excused from the table. "Okay, Abby, have fun tonight. Be back by ten . . ." said Mom. As long as she was agreeing with good graces, I tried to extend my curfew. "Ten thirty?" I tried. Her expression soured in the slightest, but not enough for her friends to notice. "On the dot!" "Thank you!" I exclaimed, and then gave my mother a quick kiss on the cheek in gratitude. "It was nice to meet you," I said to her guests, then hurried out to my car. I felt no need to change or get ready to see Damian; I already looked nice for the dinner party, and I had managed to get through the meal without spilling so much as a spot on my black skirt, white blouse, and gray shrug. I clambered into the car and drove slightly above the speed limit to the hotel where Damian was staying. It was only a few minutes past seven, so he should not have been waiting too long. Sure enough, Damian was waiting right in front of the lobby, sitting on a bench outside. The man next to him was holding a lit cigarette and had a huge cloud of smoke surrounding him. He puffed on the cigarette and blew it right in Damian’s direction. Looking glad to have me pull up right then, Damian hopped up and scrambled into the car, bringing a mist of smoke with him. My eyes burned and I started to cough; my throat began to constrict. “Are you okay?” asked Damian. “Asthma,” I wheezed between coughs. I rolled down the windows, but that only let in the smoke that was outside the car. That man was starting to tick me off… “Get out or move over, I’ll drive,” Damian said, but I waved him off with a brush of my hand. It was getting harder to draw breath . . . I gripped the steering wheel more tightly, and pressed on the gas. I only drove to the other side of the parking lot, but it seemed a great enough distance. Once I was safely away from the smoke outside the car, I rolled the windows down further. Choking and spluttering, I leaned my head out the window and inhaled deeply. The fresh air seemed nice! My throat opened once again, and the whole panic episode passed as quickly as it had come. “Are you okay?” Damian repeated. “What do you need? Can I help?” Still a little short of breath, I pointed to the glove compartment, which he thrust open in one second. My little red inhaler was in there. He placed it in my hand, and I took two long, deep puffs. I closed my eyes and said, “Thanks. Sorry you had to see that! That only happens to me when there’s smoke or it’s really hot or cold outside.” “Yeah, it’s fine,” he replied hastily, “But don’t be stupid, next time let me drive! You could barely see from coughing so hard!” “I was fine, really.” I insisted. “Whatever you say,” he conceded. “So how was dinner?” he changed the topic suddenly. I sighed. The action burned my throat slightly, but I shook it off. “Long! It felt like forever before I could come pick you up.” With a wry little smile, I leaned in to kiss him, but he smelled excessively like the smoke the man had blown on him. “Oh, wow!” I cried, plugging my nose and wiping my watering eyes. “What?” he asked a little defensively. “You smell like smoke!” “Yeah, ‘cause that idiot kept blowing it right at me!” It worried me that both our voices were rising. I took another whiff of him, and told him, “It’s not as bad as I thought; the scent just surprised me at first.” All right, so maybe I was lying a bit, but it was worth it. “Okay . . . are you sure? I can go change really fast, if you want.” he said, both our volumes back to normal. “No! It would just waste our time . . . I have to be back home at 10:30, so that gives us about three hours. So what d’ya wanna do?” His piercing blue eyes penetrated mine and said, “Well, how about we start out with a little-” and he cut off abruptly and kissed me forcefully. He still reeked of smoke, but that did not bother me so much anymore. I broke away, giggling. “Very funny …” and I trailed off, but added, “But a nice idea.” We both smiled. “Where to?” I asked, putting the car into drive. “Anywhere is fine with me,” Damian said. I thought, Hmmm . . . then wondered aloud, “Hmmm . . .” “Oh! Before I forget, here’s your tickets.” Damian dug around in his pocket and pulled out two slips of thick paper, which were my tickets. “Awesome, thanks. I think Mack will come with me . . .” “I knew you’d bring her with you, so I got these.” And Damian pulled two more pieces of paper out of his pocket, and from the light, I saw that they read “Meet and Greet.” “Aren’t these kind of unnecessary, considering I’ve already met you?” “Yeah,” he said, “But now Mack can come and meet the rest of us, too! You’ll meet the rest of the lads tomorrow at the TV station.” he said almost matter-of-factly. I gulped; I was nervous about meeting them! Not only because I had worshipped them from afar in my obsession for Celtic Thunder, but because they were sort of like Damian’s extended family, and I was meeting them as Damian’s girlfriend. It seemed to me like it would be a tiny bit awkward. I sighed, then pulled out of the hotel parking lot. Hopefully, this night would turn out better than it had started . . . Chapter 5
In the end, we had both decided to go get some ice cream at this cute family business a few blocks away. My chocolate strawberry swirl was so yummy! Since it was such a beautiful summer night, a lovely stroll through the park was in order, so we left my car in the parking lot of the ice cream shop. “Ooh, can I have a bite?” I asked Damian as we were walking through the park. He eyed me funnily, and replied, “NO! My ice cream!” I laughed. “Come on, Damian, you need to learn to share with other children,” I said in my best impersonation of my preschool teacher’s voice. Grudgingly, he said, “Oh, fine.” and held out his ice cream cone for me to have a lick. I had almost touched the tip of my tongue to the tasty concoction when he smeared some of it in my face and took off running. “Damian Joseph McGinty, I think I’m gonna kill you!” and I took off running after him, being careful not to spill the rest of my ice cream cone while doing so. I saw him bolt through the trees on a paved path, but I went a different way – a shortcut. I was invisible behind some trees at the end of the pathway when he slowed, approaching. He was laughing; apparently, he though his little shenanigans of smearing ice cream in my face was amusing. (Okay, so did I!) Damian turned around and started walking back to where we had just left, thinking that I did not follow him. I snuck up silently behind him and quickly jumped on his back. His hands caught me so that he looked like he was giving me a piggyback ride. (If my mom had seen me receiving a piggyback ride in a skirt, I am almost positive I would have gotten a severe reprimanding for that!) “Gotcha.” I teased, and kissed his cheek. “Ah, but I got you first!” he said. While holding me on his back, his ice cream cone was sideways in his hand, and slowly, the ice cream was slipping ever so slightly …until it fell onto the ground. Looking down at his empty cone with a pretend sullen expression, he groaned. “Karma,” I said, my voice high with trying to hold in my laughter. I took some licks of my own cone and deliberately uttered, “Mmmmm, this ice cream is so good . . .” “Well, then, I suppose you won’t object to me tasting some of it!” and with that, Damian grabbed the cone out of my hand and started eating it. “Oh, no ya don’t!” I yelled. I took one of my arms and put it around his neck in a sort of chokehold (a move that I had perfected on Sam and Nathan). “My ice cream! Drop it!” I joked, but Damian literally dropped my ice cream cone onto the ground. “Oh, really? Thanks for that!” I said sarcastically, although it came out strangle between my giggles. As he was walking with me still on his back, I smacked Damian hard on the shoulder. “What was that for?” he asked. “For dropping my ice cream cone!” I smacked him again. He dramatically winced. “You wanna hit me again?” he asked, pretend-threateningly. So … I hit him again. “Alright, that’s it! Now-” his words were lost by my ears after that, because he ran to a nearby field of grass in the park and thrust both of us onto the ground. I was laughing too hysterically to say much of anything. We rolled on the grass, wrestling around, until he had me pinned a little bit later, my wrists in his hands, pinned down to the ground. His knees were on either side of my torso, and my back was on the ground. “So, you went easy on me this time too, eh?” he chuckled. Damian leaned over and kissed my face, and I closed my eyes. I felt his weight shift off me as he lay down on the grass next to me. “I was just so grieved at losing my ice cream that I wasn’t in the proper state of mind for beating you up,” I teased. I then thought of my choice of words and how they applied to my attitude toward these past few weeks without Damian: I was so grieved at losing my love that I wasn’t in the proper state of mind for anything. We were quiet for a while. As we lay on the grassy field, the summer sunset blazed in the sky. The sky changed from various shades of pink, to orange, to yellow, to a greenish blue, to darker blues, a spectrum of color across the horizon. It was beautiful. It was after eight, I supposed. Damian propped himself up on one arm, and he was the one to break the silence for a change. “You realize that, after I leave, we won’t see each other again for almost two months? Until Montclair?” I sat up. This was not going to be pretty … “I was hoping you weren’t going to say anything. I don’t like you having to go away. I don’t like being apart for so long! And I really, really, really hate never seeing you. I can’t keep feeling this …depression that has stayed with me since you left. I hate it all!” The words came out close to hysteria. I became all choked up by the end, the tears burning my eyes. Wow, I thought, I am crying. Crying was never something I liked to do, something I tried to avoid as much as possible, so I sucked the tears back in and kept it bottled up. Damian immediately came and hugged me close to him, my head on his shoulder. “I know, Mala. I hate it, too,” was all he said. I simply sat there, feeling his soothing presence. . The realization of what I had just done struck me. I had basically started crying just at the mention of Damian having to leave me again. Sure, it was not for as long as last time, but it seemed like an eternity. While I sat there with my eyes closed, in Damian’s arms, I pondered how awful it would be for him to leave again. This little fit never happened last time he Damian left, so was this just a foreshadowing of what was to come? Out of the darkness, I heard Damian’s voice. “Mala,” he called. I felt my shoulder being nudged. As I slipped back into consciousness, it dawned on me that I had fallen asleep in Damian’s arms. I awoke with a start. Everything around me was darker than when I had fallen asleep; the sun had set all the way. “Oh, gosh, sorry … what time is it?” I asked, disoriented. “Almost nine. I didn’t know you were sleeping until a few minutes ago.” “Yeah, …” my voice trailed off. “Sorry you had to see that. I usually-” But he cut me off. “Mala, I’ve seen it before, remember?” Yes, I did remember all too well: he had tried to console me after I was forbidden to see him by my mother. It was a similar instance. While I was busy remembering, he continued. “No, I’m sorry! I didn’t realize that saying that would, you know…” “Set me off, yeah.” I finished his sentence for him. “I had no idea, either.” All Damian said was, “Oh.” And then . . . nothing. We just lay there, under the stars in this grassy field, holding onto each other – just like last time. His steady breathing matched my own. It was a while before either of us spoke again, and it was Damian again who broke the silence. “I’m sorry I have to leave next week,” he murmured lowly. It seemed like an inappropriate time to speak loudly. “I know it’s not your fault,” I replied. “It’s not exactly something you can help!” “If I had the choice, I would absolutely stay here.” I smiled. “If it were up to me, I would absolutely stay right here with you,” I added, snuggling up closer to Damian. He chuckled, then said, “Well, so would I, but we can’t exactly have you missing curfew again! Remember what happened last time?” I smiled again, but darkly this time. My mother had forbidden me to go out from the house, therefore limiting my already limited time with Damian. “Yes, I remember. But you sound an awful lot like my mother …when’s your curfew? Surely someone has to make sure you’re back at the hotel!” “Nah,” he said while laughing. “Just as long as I’m back in the room by the time they’re all back from drinking.” I laughed, more loudly this time, as we both stood up and walked back to my car. Hopefully, the smell of smoke was gone now! The night, I had decided as we walked hand in hand, had definitely turned out to be one of the most wonderful ones to date.
lol and its a deal, damianrocks! also... feedback!!!
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Post by mala1152 on Feb 23, 2010 15:52:01 GMT -5
another school update...softball has me staying at school for a LONG time again!!! but anywhoo, i hope u enjoy the update Chapter 6 After getting home from my evening with Damian, I immediately ran to call Mack in my bedroom, but I found that my mother was already there. She was just sitting on my bed reading one of her books. I didn’t bother to see which one. She looked up as I opened my door. Mom put the book down and raised her eyebrows, a smile spreading slowly across her face. “So,” she began. “What’s up?” I was beyond confused. I had thought that maybe, before when she had hugged Damian and been all polite and understanding that was possibly an act, but no. My mother seemed genuinely interested and concerned with Damian! Of course, it was a little awkward for me; I had never talked with my mother about Damian like this. “Uh …spectacular. What are you doing here?” It was not like I had something to hide, I was merely being curious. “I wanted to ask you how your date was,” she exclaimed. Wow, she is way too excited over this. I groaned. “Mom, do we really?” I took one glance at her bright face and sighed in defeat. “Alright, alright,” I said, and sat on the bed next to her. “Well, after dinner we went for ice cream-” “Ooh, did he pay?” “Mom!” “What? I was just asking!” “So what if he paid?” I asked, and the pitches of our voices were higher than usual. “I said, I was just asking!” “Shush. No questions.” She made the motion to indicate that she zipped her mouth closed and then locked it with a key. “Okay …so after dinner we went for a walk in the park-” “Eeeeeeeh!” Mom squeaked. “Shush! So we went for a walk in the park …and that’s pretty much it.” She looked aghast. “What? No, no, no, no, no! I need details! Come on, Abby! Give me something.” Wow, she is getting way too into this. I sighed again, knowing she would not leave until she was remotely satisfied. Mom seemed like she was trying to be my best friend instead of my mother who was supposed to be cynical and critical of boys! “Well, I picked him up at his hotel and-” I cut off at the excited look on her face. “-and nothing exciting happened! But the walk was nice … except for the part where we dropped out ice cream cones.” I laughed shortly, the continued. “We just sat on the grass and talked.” “What did you talk about?” she asked, looking as if she was just bursting to say it. “What do you want me to do, Mom, reenact the entire conversation?” My voice was starting to get a slight edge to it. “No, just a brief idea.” She actually took that seriously. “Fine … we talked about his home and stuff,” I said vaguely. I did NOT want to get into the crying again … “But for a lot of the time we just, you know, talked.” Which was not entirely true, but there was some truth in the statement. “That’s nice,” Mom said, sounding slightly disappointed. “Are you going out again tomorrow?” “Yes … Damian is introducing me to the rest of Celtic Thunder. I’ll be gone for a while tomorrow, so – wait, is that okay?” I asked in a hurry. “Yes, it’s great! You’ll be gone all day, then?” Damian hadn’t really told me any times for tomorrow, but I just nodded. “You should invite him over for dinner!” said my mother. There was a bad idea! “Oh, Mom, I don’t know …he probably already has plans to, you know, go around town or something with the rest of the guys … maybe some other time,” I lied. She saw right through me. “Mhmm,” she said through pursed lips. “Well, make sure he does come over for dinner before he leaves!” My throat tightened. “Alright, Mom, I will … g’night.” “’Night.” She said, and she closed my door as she walked into the hallway. feedback!!! i wanna try to get this story onto the first page, so get others to read it if u can thanks!!!!
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Post by mala1152 on Feb 24, 2010 6:50:50 GMT -5
omg its on the first page!! woohoo!!! thanx a lot for the replies. i really appreciate the compliments. ill update after school today, i promise!!! cant update right now...HUGE HUGE HUGE math test to study for...
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Post by mala1152 on Feb 25, 2010 7:03:44 GMT -5
ok, so its not the long update i promised, but i have early dismissal from school today (yay ;D) so be expecting one then!!!
Chapter 7
Finally! After what seemed to be the longest night ever, finally I would go with Damian to meet the rest of Celtic Thunder. I was pumped! But also a little nervous. I called Mack after my mom left last night, and Mack was squealing so loudly into the phone that it hurt my ears. I told her my plans for today, and that signaled even more squealing. After collapsing on my bed, I could not fall asleep! My mind was whirring about the events of yesterday and the possible events of today. It was amazing at how fast my brain was working. But now, here I was, sitting eating in the living room, my knees bouncing in anxiety. Partially because I was so excited and partially because I was kind of nervous! But enough about that … I had told Damian that I would pick him up again today, and he told me to get him at about ten o’clock. Wanting to spend every available moment with him, I told him 9:30 so that maybe we could grab a bite for breakfast. He agreed. I sped all the way over to Damian’s hotel at 9:15, so anxious to see him. Only did the anxiety stop when he was in the car. “Good morning!” I crowed sweetly when Damian opened the door. He stuck his head in and smiled. “G’mornin’, Mala!” cried his flawless Irish accent. He sat down and leaned in for a kiss, which I respectively gave on his cheek. “How did you sleep?” I asked conversationally. “Like a baby! The time change, ya know …” “Right, right.” Huh. So, maybe I had trouble sleeping because I was eager for today; he did this all the time, so he probably was used to it. “How about you?” he asked. “Eh, so-so. I always slept best after having our little chats on the roof. Remember?” “Aye, I remember,” he said in reply. It was quiet then for a few moments, remembering; I broke the silence this time. “Here, you can turn on some music-” and I fiddled with some buttons and knobs to turn on my radio. Celtic Thunder’s ‘Take Me Home’ CD blared from the speakers. Slightly embarrassed, I told Damian, “Change it if you want. How’s this?” and I reached to turn off the CD and to play the regular FM radio, but his hand caught mine. “Nah, I think I’ll listen to me!” he said jokingly. We continued chatting in the car, and we eventually stopped for muffins on our way to the PBS station. It was not long before we were both walking through the doors of the studio, hand in hand, of course. It was then that I saw them – standing in a loosely arranged group were four men and one woman, one shiny bald head visible above the rest. George! The one woman was obviously Sharon Browne, and she looked businesslike, motherly, and cordial all rolled into one. From the corner of my eye, I saw someone in the group make a sudden movement. I turned my head to discover that it was Keith, tossing the long blonde hair out of his face with a short twitch of his head. I spotted Paul, who had his back to us; at the sound of the door opening, he turned to face us. Paul took one look at Damian and me holding hands, and a smile broke out across his face. Whether it was a happy smile or a smile that told Damian that he was in for some serious teasing later, I could not tell. Probably the latter. I heard someone laugh loudly – it sounded like Ryan – but before I had more time to scope everything out, Damian tugged on my hand and said quietly, “Come on, Mala, they’re right over there.” My nervousness returning, I swallowed, gathered my thoughts, and strode forward with Damian right by my side.
well, there it is. time for an orthodontist apt...ouch. so ill be counting on all the responses to my story to cheer me up!!! lol i love the feedback!
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Post by mala1152 on Feb 25, 2010 13:53:38 GMT -5
TONS of free time today, so another post...
Chapter 8
The walk across the small room seemed to be an eternity long. It seemed as though the moment I set foot in the place, everyone in the room turned to face us. Of course, I was only imagining that; Paul was the only one so far who had acknowledged our presence. I could feel the heat rising in my head. My pulse quickened – but I was just being silly. There really was no reason to be this nervous! “Hey, Paul,” Damian greeted the closest person (who was obviously Paul). “Hello,” he said politely. His voice seemed less accented than the rest of the Irish people surrounding me. “Abby, this is Paul. Paul, Abby.” Damian said casually, as if he had done this a thousand times in the past. He probably has done this a thousand times before! I thought. “Ah, the infamous Abigail,” cried Paul. “Hi,” I said timidly. Whoever was closest to us probably heard Paul; he definitely had a loud voice. It appeared that Sharon and Ryan saw us or heard Paul, for they were the next ones approaching. “Abby, this is Sharon-” and Damian pointed to the woman who was about my height, “-and this is Ryan.” Ryan’s gray eyes widened ever so slightly at the mention of my name. “Hi,” I repeated. “It’s so nice to meet you,” said Ryan’s distinct voice. He intimidated me in the slightest; he really looked the part of the ‘Dark Destroyer!’ “Oh, Abby!” exclaimed Sharon, and I was quickly embraced in a short hug, which I returned with one arm. Damian was still holding my other hand. “Damian has told us so much about you!” “Has he …?” I said jokingly, pretending to shoot him a dirty look, to which he responded with a shrug and a laugh. “Hey, Damo!” cried a familiar voice, thickly accented. Sure enough, Keith strides over, tousles Damian’s hair, and looks at me. “Hey, Abby, right?” he asked, his eyes narrowing. “Mhmm.” “Great to meet you,” was his short greeting. I did not reply. “This is almost all of us,” began Sharon a few moments later. “Yeah, where is the great baldy?” finished Paul. His little joke made me smile. As I scanned the room for ‘the great baldy,’ a deep voice from behind me made me jump. “Aye, what’s goin’ on here?” asked George’s deep, bass voice curiously. “Oh, nothing much . . .” said Paul quickly, looking somewhat sheepish. “George, this is Abby,” said Damian, gesturing to me. I looked up at George, whose twinkling eyes gazed upon me. “Oh!” he said brightly. “Well, hi.” “Hi, George,” I said, smiling. “Nice to meet you.” “Same here,” I replied. I looked around. “So what exactly are you guys gonna do here?” There were some people scattered here and there, but I assumed that they worked here. There was a long table with several phones on it and several chairs behind it, but nobody sitting in them. There were some huge cameras around on tripods, and cameramen working with them, pushing buttons and adjusting angles. “Answering questions, singing some songs, picking up phones … you know, the usual,” said Damian with a shrug. Paul smirked. “Speaking of which,” said Sharon seriously, “Have you seen the time? They’ll be asking for us to be ready any minute now. Off you go!” she said as she shooed the five men along. Damian started to walk away, but then turned around quickly to give me a wink, which I returned with a smile. I watched all of Celtic Thunder, Sharon included, get small microphones buttoned onto their shirts. This took a few minutes; there was often some sort of malfunction with some piece falling off and all the sound people making sure they were working correctly. While they were finishing that up, I walked over to a nearby chair and grabbed a seat. It was next to a long table like the ones I had seen earlier with all the telephones, and I propped my elbow on it and rested my head on my hand. When I looked up again at all the men (and Sharon), there was now another man among them, talking to them animatedly. He was fit, but short; he barely made it to Keith’s shoulder. Who was he? Ah, I thought, he must be the interviewer, the one who is in charge of the show! Glad to have some remote understanding of what was going on with Damian and the rest, I glanced around the rest of the studio. People were starting to drift in and take some places behind the phones. Others were scattered around the room, some munching on bagels or questioning people who worked there about what they were supposed to be doing. “Excuse me,” someone said to my immediate right. When I turned, a woman with dark hair and a clipboard was talking to me. “Are you volunteering for answering the phones?” Oh, so that is what the phones were for, this was a pledge! “No, I … I’m here as-as a friend of someone in the group,” I managed to say. “But if you are low on volunteers, I can help if you want …” I weakly offered, simply by reaction. That was actually the last thing I would want to do right now! I wanted to watch! “Actually,” she began, and my heart sank. I knew where this was going … “I think we’re good on volunteers at the moment, thanks.” Whew! Not exactly what I was expecting, but I’ll take it!
thats all i have for now w/o it being too long!!! updates soon
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Post by mala1152 on Feb 27, 2010 9:55:08 GMT -5
a nice, LONG update...
Anyway, while that happened to me, some chairs were brought into the middle of the ‘stage,’ I suppose you could call it; it was just a big empty space in the middle of the room where lights and cameras were aimed. More and more people were coming, and most were taking place behind the phones now. The man was still talking to the lads, but it was Sharon who went and sat in the chair on the stage when he was finished. The rest of the guys started walking back to where we were, and I saw Damian’s eyes searching for me. My hand gave a little wave, and his eyebrows arched at finding me. He walked away from the rest of the guys toward me. Keith looked in his direction and followed. “Hey,” I said casually when Damian neared. “What was that all about?” “Just getting some stuff settled for today. Sharon’s up first for interview, though, then Ryan.” I glanced over to the ‘Dark Destroyer,’ who was busy chatting with Paul a little bit away. “Are you guys singing?” I asked, and it was Keith who answered me this time. “Yeah, but since it’s a pledge, we’ll be here most of the day. I’ll sing some, Paul’s gonna get in a solo, and maybe some of the rest of ‘em will sing their songs.” “But we’re all singing Take Me Home together in a while,” finished Damian. “That’s cool,” I said nonchalantly. It was quiet for a little, until I tried to break the awkward silence. “So, what else are you guys gonna do while you’re here? More promotional stuff?” I turned from Keith back to Damian. He looked a little…flabbergasted. “Bu-well … wh-I dunno.” he babbled. “What are we doing the rest of the week?” he inquired of Keith, who merely laughed. “Just this and we’re on some talk show. Ya see, ya miss a lot when you’re off with your girlfriend!” and he continued to laugh. I, however, was mortified. Small things like this always embarrassed me, and as he was laughing, I could feel the heat rising to my head, into my cheeks. I shifted in my seat uncomfortably. The look on Damian’s face was not as embarrassed as mine, but I could see it in his eyes that he was slightly self-conscious. Mostly, though, Damian was glaring at Keith with a half smile on his face. When Keith had finally stopped laughing (well, aloud at least; I think he was still chuckling to himself), he walked a few feet away and dragged a chair back to where we three were. As Keith turned to sit in the chair, Damian pulled it quickly out from underneath him, sending Keith to the floor. Damian pulled the chair right next to mine and had a seat, a smug smile of revenge on his face. He howled with laughter, while I joined him with my own quiet chuckles. “Who’s laughing now, Blondie?” he asked between laughter. “Aye, you little-!” Keith began, rubbing his back and getting up off the floor. “Ya know, Keith-o, ya miss a lot when you’re off falling on the floor!” Damian used Keith's own teast agianst him. I laughed even harder. Keith was finally back on his feet, and Paul and Ryan quickly strode over, laughing. Apparently, they had just seen what was going on as well. Keith, minutely scowling but mainly smiling, brushed himself off and muttered something about overturning Damian in a boat again. “What’s goin’ on over here?” asked George, walking over from my far left. “Nothin’, nothin’,” muttered Keith quickly. He seemed to be taking Damian’s practical joke with a good sense of humor, at least. The other guys quickly pulled up some chairs and began chatting. I was glad of how easy it was to talk to them; all my anxiety from before just seemed foolish now. “So, Abby,” said Paul, “How did you end up meeting Damian? Lose a bet?” “Severe head trauma?” asked Keith, eying Damian thoughtfully. I smiled. “No, no, no…My friend Mack’s dad and Damian’s dad were college roommates or something of the sort, so when Damian was here a few months ago, my friend Mack introduced me.” That sounded like a short explanation for how we really got together, but it would suffice. That short conversation started several others, and I soon found myself to be thoroughly enjoying the day. All the guys seemed to be like brothers; Damian was the one who was always picked on. George was, obviously, the big brother to the rest, but seemed to know when it was time for fun and jokes and time for seriousness. Paul and Keith were mainly the ones cracking the jokes and making fun, and Ryan always seemed to have the witty replies and comebacks from their teasing natures. What was more appealing to me was that almost all of the guys were interested in soccer, or, as they called it, football. “Aye, so do you play?” asked Ryan excitedly. “Of course!” I responded cheerfully. “Just locally, for a club team.” “Who do you watch on TV?” asked George. “Oh, I follow the English Premiere League and the National teams, especially with the World Cup coming up next year!” Three of them groaned, and Damian rolled his eyes. Ryan looked severely disappointed and Paul’s expression hardened. George’s and Keith’s expressions just turned annoyed. “What?” I asked. Keith, who had been mainly aloof during this conversation, was the one who answered me, “They’re just bad sports because Ireland just lost the qualifying game for them to go to the World Cup tournament. They’re always complaining …” I felt the urge to laugh at Keith’s impatience for the other three who supported Ireland, but I repressed it with one look at Damian’s, Paul’s, and Ryan’s facial expressions. After glancing at George’s face, I assumed that he was a supporter of Scotland’s national team, for he showed less signs of remorse at Ireland’s loss than the rest of them did. Conversation flowed easily from one topic to the next, usually with me in the center of it all. It was I who felt like the celebrity instead of them! Eventually, Sharon came to join in our conversations, and eventually, somebody would have to leave to sing or to sit for an interview. The phones rung, people chatted, and a medley of other noises interrupted our friendly chatter, but we all learned a little bit about each other during that time. At last, the time came for all the guys to sing “Take Me Home.” Someone with a headset on came over and asked for them, and obligingly, all five men stood and walked to the ‘stage.’ Sharon and I followed, wanting to be as close as possible for their coming song. The group’s interview didn’t take as long as I expected; everyone spoke once, except for one or two of them, who spoke twice. Then, after finally being introduced, the piano for “Take Me Home” began. First, Ryan’s strong raspy voice gathered all my attention. I mouthed all the words, but continued to stare straight at Ryan. A little smirk of a smile appeared on his face as he continued to sing, his eyes alight with music. Damian’s low, strong voice overtook the song then. As soon as he sang his first words, Damian peered over at me with a smile and winked. Both his smile and mine continued to expand across our faces as the song progressed. His voice sounded unbelievably mature for his age, and I could not help being astonished at the incredible quality of it. Damian’s voice rang out, lovely and loudly, as he finished his verse with “the night in my own hometown,” introducing the next verse. Then, Keith sang his piece. Starting low, his voice rose to stun me, to freeze me to where I was standing. Keith’s voice lingered on his last word, leaving me eager for more. And more I received. Paul’s deep, tenor voice broke into the music. To say that it was sung beautifully would be an understatement; it was phenomenal. Not one note wavered, his voice did not quiver, and I wondered how such a loud, powerful voice could be omitted without such occurrences. Amazing. All five came in then for the refrain. I flood of warmth shot through my body as I listened to all their voices blend together, almost as if they were coming not from five different mouths, but one. Indeed, it was utterly impossible to pick out an individual voice among the five. It was absolutely indescribable. They were my own, personal choir of angels. With an intense look on his face, George began his solo. Although his booming voice did not linger in the way Keith’s had, every word he sang seemed permanently etched into my eardrums; their echo washed through my ears repeatedly. Eventually, much to my dismay, the song ended, and therefore so was the pledge. And as Damian and I were walking out of the studio and to my car, I thought to myself, there was definitely no better way to spend the last few days of summer vacation.
lol i wrote this part when i saw on the lads' twitters that they had overturned damian in a boat... in case u didnt catch that little part in the middle! and also it was around the time when the french national soccer team beat ireland in soccer... haha more soon!!!
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Post by mala1152 on Mar 1, 2010 7:02:46 GMT -5
ah, late arrival to school today... so i thought id take some time to post!
Chapter 9
I hung around with everybody a little longer; by the time we all left the building, it was around 3:00. It had already been a long day, but by no means did I want it to end! Damian and I were walking out to my car, everybody else either already outside or just behind us on their way out. I was prepared for a quick, over-the-shoulder, “Catch ya later,” but everybody seemed to be heading to the same place. In fact, Damian’s hand (which was, of course, was intertwined with mine) tugged me gently toward the place where I saw Paul and Sharon turn the corner out of the parking lot. Once we were walking on the sidewalk, I saw a little restaurant on the corner, one I had never noticed before, even after living in the city my whole life. Somebody must have seen it on their way and mentioned it for a place to get together afterwards. That was nice … Drawing nearer, I could definitely see the attraction to this place, especially amongst this group of people – the name of the place was The Claddagh Irish Pub. Of course ... I thought, smiling to myself. We were all seated in one huge room, which was full to the brim. We were all squished at several different tables, and I was sandwiched in between Damian and the wall, and across the table from us were Ryan and Keith. Paul, George, and Sharon were not far, though, just over the other side of the booth. Not long after we took our seats, a waiter came and took our orders. The conversation flowed smoothly, over the tops of the booths and around our own table as well. I was just in the middle of telling a funny story, having a great time, when a large bunch of people strolled into the pub, crowding the small restaurant. They all appeared to be some girls’ sports team … possibly soccer? Swimming or softball? Tennis, maybe? I heard cleats, so that made it either soccer or softball. Anyway, as this mass of people walked past us, several of the girls shot us strange looks. I had a knot in the pit of my stomach at the odd looks, and it was then that I knew this would result in no good. I watched the girls, who seemed to be about three or four years my junior. One girl in particular, a petite blonde, widened her eyes, gasped, pointed toward us, and cried out to the girl nearest her, “Oh, my God, I knew it!” She and a few of her friends ran up to our booths and squeaked, “Are you guys Celtic Thunder?” At the confirmation of that by all the guys, they then proceeded to fluster themselves, searching for things for them to autograph and hunt frantically for a marker. Meanwhile, the guys had nicely stood up to stand for a picture or two with the girls and had politely autographed whatever the girls thrust in front of them. The guys even started making conversation with them… “So, were you all just practicing? What sport?” asked Paul. “Soccer,” crowed the petite blonde again. “Really?!” asked Damian, Ryan, and Paul in unison, while Keith continued his annoyed look from before. All this time, inside, I was seething. Seeing Damian put his arm around another girl, no matter what her age or for whatever reason, did NOT go over well with me! And the way they all just up and left me, sitting at the table all by myself…as if I just evaporated when a fan happened to stroll by! Only Sharon stayed where she was, on the other side of the booth. I glanced at Damian, his back turned to me, making conversation about soccer to the little girls. Another wave of anger rippled through me. Maybe it’s not anger? You’re jealous, cried a strong voice in the back of my brain. Me? Jealous? Of what? Some twelve year olds? You’re insane, I retorted to the voice. Honey, I’m the insane one, when you’re sitting there, arguing with voices you hear in your own head? Get a grip, it retorted back. Oh, shut up, I said. Whatever you want…but I know what’s really going on… were the final words of the voice. Psh, I was not jealous of some little girls who were making small talk and getting autographs and talking to my boyfriend and causing him to ignore me and…. Holy cow, I was jealous of twelve-year-olds. Unbelievable. My anger was not in the least diminished by this newfound jealousy, however. As I sat there watching Damian talk to these girls, it only intensified. I stood up to leave, not once thinking that my behavior was irrational or over-the-top, and walked towards the door. I thought I heard footsteps behind me, but I just quickened my pace. I had almost reached my car when someone’s hand grabbed my own, and I flung around in a hurry to see, none other than, Damian’s face. “Where are you going?” he asked, alarmed. “Oh, so you finally noticed I was here?” I answered coldly. “What are you talking about? Why are you leaving?” “I’m going home, Damian.” I replied. Both our voices were getting icy. I took a breath and said, “Look, obviously I…am second-rate when some of your fans are around, so I figured I’d just-” “What? How could you think that? I wasn’t – I didn’t mean to-” “Didn’t mean to ignore me in there?” I tried not to sound snippy, but I did manage to sound extremely hurt, which I was. “It’s just like I was invisible.” “Mala,” Damian began, “I’m sorry, but I think you’re overreacting. After the summer, after the past couple days, you seriously think-” I cut him off, but he sounded sincere. “Yeah, I get it. I’m sorry, but I’ve gotta get home now. I’ll call you later.” And with those final words, I got in my car and drove away, leaving a very confused-looking Damian behind me.
duh-duh-duh!!! i hate to leave you all hanging like this...but i will!! muahahaha lol ill update soon
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Post by mala1152 on Mar 2, 2010 16:23:48 GMT -5
my update, as promised....
Chapter 10
As soon as I pulled into the driveway, I knew I had made a huge mistake. I was just being silly, and I let my imagination get out of control back at the restaurant. Of course I didn’t believe that Damian would be so…however I depicted him to be. I wanted to call him immediately, but I figured he’d still be out, eating with everybody else. What would they think of me now? I called Mack to see if she was home. When she picked up, I told her to meet me outside so I could explain the whole story. We went for a drive, and I talked and told her of the whole day, right up to the moment I pulled into the driveway. “Wow,” she said, “You are such a drama queen!” “I am not!” I claimed defensively. “Abs, I have never known you to be so…dramatic! What the heck is up with that?” “Mack, I am not a drama queen. I may be slightly over-analytical-” “No kidding!” Mack cut in. “Big deal, so his attention wasn’t exactly undivided. You usually don’t let such tiny things get to you!” “I know! That’s why it’s so…weird for me, you know?” “No,” she answered shortly. “Mack!” I started whining. “If I have to spell it out for you-” But Mack was laughing. “Abs, calm down, I totally get it. This is your first boyfriend, and you haven’t really felt all the…irrational feelings that come with it yet. So just take a breath, call Damian, and sort this out, ‘kay?” I rolled my eyes and nodded. “Thanks,” I mumbled. “That’s my job!” she laughed. We drove through the town, taking side streets that I didn’t even know the names of. When we both finally decided we had better things to be doing, I drove back home and told Mack goodbye. My mother wasn’t home; probably at the grocery store again, I thought to myself. I climbed the stairs, plopped down on my bed, and flipped open my phone. There was already a voicemail left by Damian, but I didn’t even need to listen to it to know what it would say. I hesitated as I dialed the numbers, but I pressed the call button and waited for him to pick up; he did so after one ring. “Hello?” “Damian, I-” “Mala, I-” we both spoke at the same time, then laughed. “Me first,” I said, but when he groaned sarcastically, I said, “I have more to apologize for.” “Whoa, wait a-” “Sh! Me first!” I steeled myself, then began. “Damian, I am so sorry for flipping out this afternoon. I was just being silly, and I overreacted, and I know how ridiculous I must’ve been, but I’m sorry.” He paused. “Finished?” he asked politely. “Yupp,” I said. “Ok, my turn now…I’m sorry, too. I know that I kinda got...” he trailed off as he searched for a word. “Distracted, back at the restaurant.” “No, it’s fine, I know that you were just…well, doing your job. Gosh, that sounds weird!” I said, and before long, we were both laughing. He spoke first. “We’d better not make a habit of this!” “Of what?” I asked. “Well, there’s a ‘dilemma’ between us now, and last time I was here, there was one then, remember?” I took a second, pondering what he said. It was true, and no, I did not want to make a habit out of it! “Yeah, I remember,” I said airily. “So…do you have any plans for tomorrow evening?” he asked suddenly. “Actually, we do,” I answered. “We? Who’s ‘we?’” “You and me, of course,” I said sarcastically. “Oh, really? And, what exactly are we doing?” “Well, my mom’s been dying to have you over for dinner before you leave again,” (I stumbled over the word ‘leave’) “so I just thought that the sooner, the better. That way she won’t be pestering me about it for another four days! So do you want to?” “Yeah, sounds great! What time should I come over?” “I’m not sure…how about we just plan on six o’clock-ish, but I’ll double check with my mom?” “Sounds good,” he said dismissively. “So…were you really that jealous back at the restaurant?” “What?!” I cried. “Jealous? Of what?” I knew how jealous I had been that afternoon, but I had no idea that Damian also knew! “You know,” he urged. “Nuh-uh,” I insisted over-defensively, which gave me away. “Mala, you can say what you want, but I know what was going on today,” Damian said. He sounded as if he was going to keep speaking, but I spoke before he had the chance. “If I were with you right now, I’d punch you, then tell you how ridiculous you were being,” I teased. As I said the words, I realized how true I wanted them to be; not the punching part, obviously, but that I was with him, face-to-face, to explain how I was jealous and how I was sorry. “Again, say what you want…” he said. We continued talking into the late hours of the night, until my phone’s battery was nearly dead. Several times I almost gave up and drove to meet Damian someplace, but I realized that we’d see each other soon enough. I cringed every time I thought of Damian coming over for dinner tomorrow, with my parents and brothers. I was as nervous as I was when Damian met my mother, possibly even more so. After countless attempts to calm myself over the daunting even tomorrow, I eventually drifted off and fell asleep, dreaming sweetly. more soon!
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Post by mala1152 on Mar 3, 2010 20:03:13 GMT -5
ya know, at first i was like, 'nah, im not gonna update today,' but now i really wanna....see, first i write out my whole story one a MS word doc, then i post bit by bit...and now i finished my whole story! but im still posting bit by bit... so heres the next bit!
Chapter 11
Well, it was time. I can’t recall a time when I’d ever been so nervous for dinner! At quarter to six, I went to pick Damian up. The house was cleaner than it had been all summer (my mom really went all-out), and dinner, my favorite recipe of smoked salmon, had a sweet aroma circulating throughout the place. Sam and Nathan were bidden to be on their best behavior, and my dad promised to be nice. So the stage was set. All that was missing was the star, on whom the spotlight would be focused all evening. Fabulous. Small beads of sweat glistened on my forehead when I arrived to pick Damian up, and I hastily brushed them away. “Hey,” he said, clambering into the car. “Hey,” I responded, with a kiss. We drove on in silence. I was still sweating, so I turned up the air conditioning in the car. We stopped at a red light, and I turned my right turn signal on. “Are you okay?” Damian asked. “I’m fine. Why?” “Well, for starters, you turned the windshield wipers on instead of a turn signal. And you keep turning the heat up instead of the AC.” Hm. That may or may not explain the sweat. Both of our hands reached the AC at the same time, but Damian, with his left hand, turned off the air, and with his right hand rolled down the window. He ensnared my own hand in his left, and I was embarrassed at how clammy it felt in comparison to his. “Relax,” he soothed. “Dinner’s gonna be great!” he added, over-enthusiastically. “Right. Great,” was my mumbled reply. Damian only chuckled and patted my hand. Soon we were parked in the driveway, but I hesitated; should I get out now, or make a run for it? I laughed at my own foolishness, yet I still stalled in unbuckling my seatbelt. We eventually made our way into the house, and I was so tense it was as though my nerves were alive, all spazzing and jumping about in unison. This did not leave me as my we entered the room where my dad was, sitting on the couch. At our entrance, he stood up. Damian dropped my hand to shake my father’s. “It’s great to finally meet you,” said Dad. “Same with you,” Damian responded politely. My dad sat back down on the couch and flipped on the TV. We sat on the couch opposite the one my dad was on and I also turned my attention to the TV. Football, of course. “You watch football much?” my dad asked. “Um…not really, I’m more of a soccer kinda guy,” said Damian. My dad shot me a joking glance that said, ‘And you like him because…?’ But before my dad said something about Damian or football or soccer or whatever else was going on in his head, my mother called from the kitchen, “Dinner’s ready!” We all plated our food and got situated around the table, but not before I stopped my mother in the kitchen, just for a quick warning. “Mom,” I started. “I know that dad promised to be nice, but you need to be nice, too!” “Okay, okay!” she said under my hard glare. “No, not ‘okay, okay,’ this is important! That means no grilling Damian with weird questions or making any remarks that I don’t like! Just be nice and have good conversation, okay? Please?” “Yes, okay, Abby, I get it! Now can we eat please?” I sighed, then took my place at the table next to Damian. My parents sat at either head of the table, and Sam and Nathan sat directly across from us. I wondered if I was being too obsessive over having everything going smoothly or limiting my parents in what they were and were not allowed to say like I just did with my mom. I would apologize later if I ever reached a conclusion… I was distracted by the wonderfully scented salmon in front of me, and I dug in. The conversation was, as I demanded (not asked), pleasant and easygoing. I was really worried my mom and dad would fire a whole bunch of awkward questions, but that never happened, thank God! In fact, my brothers seemed to take a liking to Damian, and he and my dad got along quite well. Even I was involved in the conversation, despite my anxiety. We all talked about…well, everything! School, sports, summer, family, friends, and whatever other random thing my mother threw into the mix. It had been an amiable hour of dinner, full of witty responses, funny stories, and curious questions. It was kind of strange, however, to hear Damian call me ‘Abby.’ I just figured he didn’t want to call me by the name that my dad usually uses when speaking to me; that would be kind of weird for both of us. Then the exact thing that I feared occurred.
so i was thinking... i was debating whether or not i should write a sequel to this one as well, or move on to another story, maybe under another forum.... i already have some ideas formulating for a sequel...idk. pm me w/ ideas, or post them here! feedback feedback feedback!
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Post by mala1152 on Mar 3, 2010 20:30:32 GMT -5
oh, TRUST ME, i doubt many people will enjoy the ending... so a sequel is definitely in the running. also, im beginning to think that i spoil all u readers by updating more than once a day, but then i read all my LOVELY cliffhangers, and decide that its being TORTURED, not spoiled lol. it is i who am spoiled by having such wonderful responses to my stories
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