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With Love From A Blue Rock

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Abhijit Naskar

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“We all line up except for this guy in a wheelchair, Devyn. He smiles at me when I line up, introduces himself. He has a movie star smile, just white teeth and charisma, big eyes, dark skin. He’d be perfect looking if he didn’t have such a large nose, but the truth is it looks good on him, natural and powerful. He winks at Issie, who blushes. “You can do it, Is,” he says. She rolls her eyes, twists her lip, and says, “As long as I don’t pass out.” “If you pass out, I’ll put you in my lap and wheel you across the finish line,” he says, and it somehow isn’t sleazy because you can tell by his eyes how much he cares about Issie. I instantly like him. She blushes worse. Her face looks like she’s already sprinted a mile.”

AppearanceHelpRunFlirtZara WhiteBlushWheelchairIssieDevyn
Book:Need
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“I just run faster and hit the slowest of the lead boys. I wink and race by him. He smells like onions and he has big, wet circles in the pits of his shirt. He speeds up, but can only stay with me for a tenth of a mile before he drops back. Then it’s Nick. I cruise next to him. He’s some sort of running god, because he isn’t close to being winded. His stride is long, powerful, and quick. “Hi.” Why I said this, I do not know. He’s cute. Okay. I am a sucker for cute boys and he was nice to Issie. Plus, he has good hair and he isn’t as pale as most Maine males. He looks like he works in the sun, or at least has seen the sun once, maybe many weeks ago. Plus, life is all supposed to be about making love, not war. My dad listened to John Lennon; I know this stuff. “You’re fast,” he says, easy. No huffing. No puffing. No blowing the house down. “So are you.” We run together, keeping pace. The only one ahead of us is Ian, who is loping around the track as if it’s nothing. Nick shrugs at me while he runs, which is really something, because when I’m running full tilt it’s hard for me to speak, let alone break form to shrug. “You can go faster, can’t you?” I huff out. He just gives a little smile again and then his eyes shift into something cold, like gravestones with just the barest information about a life etched onto them. “Zara,” he whisper-says. I lean in closer to hear him. “What?” My voice is not a whisper. It matches the thudding beat of my heart, the bass of the music that blares out of the speakers. “Awesome job, new girl!” Devyn yells, clapping.”

RunningAttractiveFastZara WhiteNick ColtDevyn
Book:Need
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“Nick saunters into the gym and my heart basically stops. He’s ridiculously cute in his PE shorts and dark green T-shirt; and people that good-looking seem vulnerable, almost like they can’t be real. He’s real, though. He’s all dark skin and dark hair and dark eyes. Okay. His eyebrows, like Devyn’s nose, are a little big and if you stare at him long enough you realize that his lips are a bit lopsided. I have kissed his lips. I have felt his breath in my ear and I know without a doubt that he’s real, even if he is a werewolf. The massive muscles in his legs redefine themselves as he walks toward me. He waves a late pass at the coach and yells, “Sorry I’m late. I’ve got a pass.” “Not a problem, buddy,” Coach yells back. He and Nick are all jock bonding. Nick pockets the note, which is probably a fake. I can smell his deodorant even though he’s still far away. There are these things called pheromones, odors that guys give off to attract women. I swear his pheromones have my freaking name written on them. They hone in and attack. “You are getting all swoony faced,” Issie tells me with her singsong voice. She pokes me in the ribs with her elbow, gently. She turns to Devyn, who is smiling like a crazy man, just hanging back in his wheelchair watching the scene. “Dev. Look at Zara. She’s got her lovey-dovey look on.” As Is gazes at Devyn with her own lovey-dovey look, he says, “Yeah. Teen love. So obvious. So hormonal.” “I am not hormonal.” I fake glare at him.”

AppearanceAdmireTeaseZara WhiteChecking OutNick ColtHormonalIssieDevynLovey DoveyPhermonesSwoony Faced
Book:Captivate
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“Nick grabs the disgusting clump of soggy napkins off the table and says, “You’ve got to do it, man. She’s totally in love with you.” Devyn shakes his head. His eyes are hard. “I can’t.” It takes me a second to respond. “You better not like Cassidy, Devyn, because I swear I will kill you.” “Cassidy?” His voice is numb. “Dude. Everyone’s talking about it,” Nick says. “I don’t like Cassidy,” he says. “Then stop flirting with her.” I stand up. “Flirt?” Devyn looks at Nick, probably for help. “Yeah. Flirt. You’re always with her. She’s giving you rides to school. You’re always talking about her and messaging her,” I protest. “I don’t have the vaguest idea how to flirt. I’m a nerd. We have no social skills.” I can’t believe him. “Well, you are flirting up a freaking storm, Devyn.” “Zara, take it down a notch,” Nick says. “You sound jealous.” “Do not tell me to take it down a notch,” I say, and we glare at each other. “You can be so patronizing sometimes.” He looks away first. “I’m just trying to figure Cassidy out.” Devyn wipes at his hair, ignoring us. “Why? Why is she so fascinating? She’s always itching,” I ask. “And you have Issie. She is right here and she loves you. You know she loves you. I’m going to check on Issie,” I announce. I point at Devyn. “You better stop being an idiot and kiss her soon, or at least tell her you love her or I swear, Devyn, I will be the one who breaks your back and shoots you with an arrow next time.”

LoveProtectiveKillLikeFlirtDefendZara WhiteNick ColtReprimandCassidyIssieDevyn
Book:Captivate
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“This is Trenicia, the queen of the warrior women of the Isle of Akalla. Different places have different traditions and different customs. On the Isle of Akalla, the women rule, and the women do the fighting." "What do the men do?" the horseman Ekial asked curiously. "As little as they possibly can," the warrior woman said in a sardonic tone. "Over the years, they’ve foisted just about everything off on us. We have to grow the food, hunt the meat, and fight the wars. The men sit around getting fat and arguing with each other about something they call 'philosophy' - most of which is pure nonsense.”

PhilosophyWomenFeminismHumourQueenMatriarchyFemale Warriors
Book:The Treasured One
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“Mulan was proud of these women. Proud of their calm preparations, proud of the ease with which they strapped on their weapons, their gentle yet firm touch with their horses. And she was proud, most of all, of the banner that flew over their heads. It was mud yellow rather than the rich gold of palace silks, since mud yellow was the only shade Ruolan could manage with the herbs at hand. The dragon and phoenix pictured on it were bare outlines. But Ruolan and Wenling had stayed up all night to embroider them, and Mulan could see the heart that had gone into every stitch. Now they would put down their needles and wield their swords with no less skill.”

ProudPhoenixDragonMulanFemale Warriors
Book:Feather and Flame
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