Teaser Tuesday

On the Playlist: Lead Me On - Gloriana

It's teaser time, and this one is a little different. It's still from Building Forts, but it's from Revision Land, though it's still unedited (uh, yeah). Before I created the chapter this scene's from, Callie and Chase met, had maybe two conversations, got into the accident together, then were like LOLYAYLET'SDATE, which isn't really like either of them. So, my goal with this scene (and others) is to make the development of their relationship a bit more natural.

Callie and Chase met a couple of hours ago when their families had dinner together (well, officially met. They'd been ~intrigued~ by each other before). Moira, Callie's aunt, asked Chase to give Callie a tour of the apartment building, which neither of them actually wanted to do, but they did anyway. They're on that tour now. So yes, this is pre-accident, pre-relationship, pre-everything.

It was fun writing a scene so early in the story to see how my characters have changed. Callie was even snarkier :P

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“Oh!” Chase says after we pass the mailboxes. Apparently, the keys can be tricky, but you just need to jiggle them a little! Seriously. Kill me now. It’s the only chance I have to die happy. The next stop on the tour is sure to send me into a spiral of depression that will turn me into one of those women who yells at daytime soaps while eating ice-cream on Wednesday afternoons, a.k.a my beautiful, incredible, pathetic mother. “The laundry room! I can show you the laundry room!”

I really hope he’s making some sort of joke that I don’t get.

Chase legitimately runs to the laundry room and I fake enthusiasm by saying, “Are the washers top-load or side-load?” Totally believable.

“Side,” Chase answers, bored. Uh, dying a slow death is my bit. He is totally trying to steal my thunder.

And the rumors are true, the washers are side-load. I lean against one as Chase explains how to start them—useful, but I hate that he talks to me like I’m some sort of dumb spoiled brat. I mean, I am a spoiled brat, but I’m not stupid—and then I’m flying across the room.

I look behind me to see that the door opened. I turn around to find Chase pretty much pissing himself laughing. Charming. “What was that?” I ask.

“That machine has an attitude problem,” he answers. “Too much pressure and she snaps.” He walks over so he’s leaning against the washer on my left. “This one,” he says, “This one’s scared. It never starts, just makes excuses: too full, the door’s not locked, et cetera. And then this fighter,” he hits the machine on his left, “Does every job it’s asked to do, even when it’s given so much detergent that it gets sick.”

Chase sits on the fighter, so I sit on the one that’s terrified of life. “I started doing everyone’s laundry after my parents divorced,” Chase explains. “Just to make things easier on my mom, you know?”

“That’s sweet.” I’m actually not being sarcastic.

“Anyway, I got to know the machines,” Chase says, “Who they are—you know I’m not crazy, right?”

“No, but this is the most entertained I’ve been all night.”

Chase and I share one of those smiles that make other people hate you because you’re hogging happiness.