#*dreamy sigh* science couple parents

[bolly--quinn]

do u think beth got her love for animals from her mama? 👀

yes! she was born to an astronomy dad and a zoology mom!!

[tinyboxxtink]

“Helpless” *Part 3*

Ok, I got the 2nd dose of the CoVid Vaccine yesterday and it’s kicking my ASS, so I’m gonna blame the writing on that. I wasn’t even gonna do a chapter tonight but I can’t let my babies down!!!!

Please forgive me, I didn’t plan this story out as well. I don’t know how long it’s gonna go, I’m flailing, coming apart at the seams.

ANYWAY, ENJOY! 😂

Also for the record the micro expression thing is a real thing, there was a whole show about it! #LieToMe

This story is just an excuse to exploit my fascination with it. 😅 #jk

Masterlist

Part 1

Part 2

Part 4

My Lovelies: 

@wanniiieeee

@word-scribbless

@chasingeverybreakingwave

After greeting your new guests, you took their drink orders and handed them two menus, explaining the specials. You glanced over to see Rafael furiously scribbling notes down on his legal pad; SUPER. 

“....How’s the Cesar salad here, dear?” the older woman of the couple asked.

“It’s great-- really--” you were explaining when you caught Rafael’s eye when he glanced up to look at you. He smiled, and you thought your knees would give out. 

“Amazing,” you sighed in a dreamy wisp.

“Really? That good, huh?” The woman glanced over to where you had been looking. Rafael quickly looked elsewhere, then sipped his scotch and continued writing.

“Well he looks yummy too,” She winked, as her husband looked up from his menu with a wary eye.

“I’ll be back with your drinks,” you nodded and quickly excused yourself to make their drinks. After quickly mixing and serving them, you returned to Rafael who was now grinning from ear to ear.

“Are you going to actually order, or…?” You asked, leaning your elbows on the bar across from him. 

“In a minute, sure. FIRST, you answer some questions, camarera--” You gave him a face. “It means waitress,”

“Right...cute,” you rolled your eyes, but inside you were melting. Anything spanish coming out of that man’s mouth sounded like straight porn. 

“But, I’m not just going to sit here and let you interrogate me, counselor,” you smirked. “Tit for tat-- you ask me one, I’ll ask you one. And remember, I’ll know if you’re lying,” you wagged your eyebrows at him.

“Well that’s just unfair, don’t you think? You could tell me anything and I’d believe you,” he argued.

“Oh really? Because I look that innocent?” You raised an eyebrow.

“Because you’re that pretty,” he winked, causing your cheeks to flush hot. Damn, he was good. 

“Alright alright, down boy,” you tried playing it off like you weren’t mentally squealing like a 12 year old. “First question?” 

“What do you want to be when you grow up?” 

“Excuse you? How old do you think I am?!” You didn’t know whether to be insulted or flattered. You had always been told you looked young for your age, but you didn’t want him thinking you were barely jailbait or something. WAIT, was that him making sure you weren’t?

“Why don’t you ask me my age, counselor? Wouldn’t that be easier?” 

“Asking a woman’s age is the equivalent of asking to get punched in the nuts,” he chuckled. 

“True. Well I’m older than 21 but younger than 40,” you smirked. 

“So...22 then?” He winked.

“Whatever you want, papi,” you winked back, causing his eyes to glisten with arousal.

“But to answer your actual question, I want to work in law someday,” you added, turning his amorous eyes to curious ones.

“Really? Because of me?”

“Oh my GOD, could you be any more narcissistic?” you scoffed.

“I could be, most definitely yes,” he nodded.

“NO, believe it or not my world doesn’t revolve around you; in fact until yesterday you were just ‘tie guy’,” 

“Tie guy?” He raised an eyebrow.

“Your ties. They are very...intricate,” you nodded to the tie he was currently wearing. To your surprise, he nervously adjusted it and looked down, as if he was embarrassed by his love for flamboyant ties.

“Not in a bad way, I like them a lot. Especially when they match your suspenders,” as soon as the words left your mouth, you heard the “fatal attraction” in them.

“Okay see how is this fair, you clearly know much more about me than I know about you,” You fanned yourself, your skin was going to be permanently burned red from this entire conversation.

“Yes but to be fair you just keep revealing that information yourself, and it’s really only facts about myself, just with a stalker’s viewpoint,” he quickly recovered from his own insecurities once again, reveling in your skill of self destruction.

“ANYWAY-- No, not because of you. I’ve just been fascinated with the micro expression thing since I was a teenager, and I think if it hasn't been already introduced as tactics for law enforcement, it definitely should be. Having human lie detectors on hand would be very beneficial, don’t you think?”

“You do have a point,” he nodded. “If it was a real thing,” he rolled his eyes.

“It IS! Alright you know what-- new game,” You slammed the bar with your hands defensively..

“You tell me facts about yourself and I’ll tell you if you’re lying,” 

“Whoa whoa whoa, I never agreed to that,” Rafael shook his head.

“Well you can agree now or I can keep waiting on other people, counselor,” 

“...Alright, fine. But it goes both ways,” 

“Oh you think you can tell when I’m lying?” You dared him.

“If I really try, sure. I am a lawyer,” 

“Alright....fine.”

“So what are the terms of this game?” 

“Hmmmm…..if I win, you have to mention this science--”

“Voodoo”

“SCIENCE, to your higher ups. Or someone who could do something with it,” you held out your hand.

“Alright...fine. And when I win, I eat free here for a week.” he smirked.

“WHAT? No no no, that shit will come out of my pocket, jackass,” You winced after the insult came out, you didn’t know what it was about him that caused such flippancy.

“...You know I’ve never been in a conversation with someone insulting me this much,” he chuckled.

“....Maybe not to your face,” You gave him a tongue-in-cheek smile.

“Touché…” he chuckled, twirling his pen between his fingers.

“Alright fine, if I win, you have dinner with me next week. Anywhere but here,” he grinned, amused at the shell shocked look on your face. You quickly shook it off and tried to play it cool.

“....You know I’ve never been in a conversation with a guy who worked this hard just to ask me out,” 

“Oh please, I could’ve asked you to follow me home last night and you would’ve done it,” he smirked, causing you to hit him with feigned protest.

“But what fun would that be?” he asked coyly, biting his lip.

“ORDER UP!” You heard the kitchen call your order.

“Shit...I’ll be right back,” You took Rafael’s glass and filled it back up, sliding it back to him.

“Trying to get me drunk?” He gave you a look. 

“More like trying for a bigger tip,” you giggled, going back for the food.

---

You grabbed your other guests dinner and refilled their drinks, making sure they were taken care of for a while before returning to Rafael to start your new game.

“Alright….so first question: Any brothers or sisters?” you started before he could think of a question. 

“One brother two sisters,” he replied with a straight face.

“NOPE. Lie. Straight out of the gate, really, counselor?!”

“Oh please, how could you know that,” he rolled his eyes.

“Please, with that ego, you’re definitely an only child.” You both laughed, he nodded. 

“Alright, same question,” 

“8 brothers, 7 sisters,” 

“Oh now THAT’S a load of bullshit! In New York City? No way,”

“Well, technically. I was raised in a group home-- orphan,” 

“Oh, I’m sorry,” he went for your hand, but you shook it off.

“Not a big deal, moving on,” 

“Hey--” he took your hand this time. “For what it’s worth, having parents isn’t exactly great either,” 

Hint of a sad tone, a micro anger expression at the word ‘parents’.

“...Mom or dad?”

“What?”

Eye twitch at the mention of “dad”.

“What did your dad do?” 

“Wha-- what is happening? What are you doing?” his eyes darted back and forth between yours trying to figure you out.

“I told you, science,”

“Well STOP, whatever it is!” he dropped your hand and leaned back defensively. 

Wow, something really must have gone down with his dad. 

“Okay...sorry, I’m sorry. Sometimes it’s hard to turn off,” you apologized, he relaxed back in his stool. The awkward silence now made you want to run right out of the restaurant.

“We don’t have to play anymore, I’ll tell you whatever you want,”

“No no, it’s my fault. I thought you were full of shit until that just happened,” he muttered with half a laugh.

“Oh, yeah then totally your fault,” you tried to laugh it off, he gave you a small smile. He was clearly still shaken up by the mention of his father, or the fact that you knew something about it out of thin air.

“Seriously, we can--”

“What about my dad?” he interrupted you.

“What?”

“ What do you know about my dad?” he asked, a serious expression on his face.

“Wha--- I’m not actually a psychic, Rafael. I just noticed your eye twitch when I mentioned the word dad, indicating some stress associated with it. SCIENCE, not magic,” you made “magic” motions with your fingers.

“I mean for all I know you could just hate your daddy because he didn’t buy you a yacht when you were a kid,” you joked; a glance of shame.

“...But you didn’t grow up with money, did you?” You couldn’t help yourself.

“....Seriously, I’ll leave,” he dropped his pen.

“Sorry. SORRY. Okay fine fine um-- I grew up in Jersey, in a tiny house in a room shared by five girls, it was like living in a closet. My foster parents only wanted the paychecks for each kid, so we basically raised each other. I made friends with Arianna who was also in the system when I got to high school, and as soon as we turned 18 we took off for the city, and we’ve been living out of our car for years,” you hoped your self deprecating life story negated whatever shit went down with his dad.

“....How much of that is true?” He raised an eyebrow.

“Okay so we live in a studio apartment, but we did live out of our car for a year,” 

“....I grew up in the barrio,” he finally spoke after a long pause.

“I assume that’s like the Mexican ghetto?”

“CUBAN,” he was clearly offended. 

“Right. Sorry,” you bit your lip, knowing there was no way you’d be able to dig out the stiletto wedged in your mouth.

“I love my mom, she did the best she could. And my abuela is the sweetest woman in the world. But my dad…” he rolled his eyes, his knuckles slightly curled at the mention of his father. 

“....He’s dead now, so it’s irrelevant,” he shrugged uncomfortably.

“Right. Yeah no, sure,” this time you placed a hand over his. 

“Miss, can we get a dessert menu please?” You heard the woman from the other end of the bar calling for you.

“I um-- I gotta--” you motioned between the couple and the back.

“Right-- hey um, do you think I could get my usual?” He asked softly, his cocky demeanor diminished. 

“Y-Yeah! Of course, yeah I’ll be right back,” you smiled awkwardly at him and bolted to the kitchen.

For fuck’s sake, could you be any more awkward? This is why you didn’t have friends; people don’t want their lives being read on their faces. 

It’s fine, you’re fine. You’ll just fix it when you come back….

[offspring-of-calliope]

Hey!

I saw you asked for requests, so how about some Redfinch and/or platonic Ralbert? Basically just Albert and the guys that make him all comfy and happy :-)

Hey, thank you very much for this request, I had so much fun writing this and I hope it turned out alright.

It’s called “A study in being subtle” and it’s basically Redfinch testing the waters of their relationship while Race is trying to help Albert with his biology homework. It’s a modern AU.

I hope you enjoy it,

Sincerely, me,

Lélodie

-----

Albert's head was spinning. He looked down at the notes Race was making while trying to explain to him how photosynthesis worked. Biology was one of the subjects Al hated the most but he had thought that maybe Race's presence would make it more bearable. And indeed, sitting next to Race in Biology class was a lot of fun but on the downside, he was too easily distracted to really understand what the teacher was saying.

The good thing was that Race was – even though he sometimes had the mental state of a little child – a genius when it came to science. So of course, they met up at Al's house today after school so they could do their homework together. Al just hoped that they would be finished before Finch arrived.

A smile graced his lips at the thought of his boyfriend. Boyfriend. The word still seemed a bit foreign in his mind. They hadn't been together for that long, nearly two months now, and they hadn't even told their friends that they were dating. Albert was always really careful when it came to relationships, considering that he hadn't even completely figured out his sexuality, and Finch respected that.

“... and that's it, basically. Easy peasy.” Satisfied with his conclusion, Race took a sip of his water and glanced over at Albert, only now realising that the redhead hadn't even been listening to him. “Al? You okay?”

“Mh, what? Yes, totally. Photosynthesis. Plants producing oxygen. Got it.” Contrary to his words, Albert's smile faltered while he let his gaze wander over the notes on the topic.

Race sighed deeply, taking an unlit cigarette from his pocket and put it between his lips, presumably to calm down. “Did you understand at least one of the things I've been trying to explain to you?”

“Of course!” Al retorted, maybe a bit too harsh. Yet, he couldn't help it. Languages came easy to him. Languages, sports, dancing, literally anything except for mathematics and biology and physics. He even understood a little chemistry on good days. But obviously not understanding anything made him feel weird, as if he wasn't enough and then, there was this urge to prove himself. Albert groaned and put a hand on Race's shoulder as a sign of being sorry for nearly snapping. “I understood the words you said,” he answered then.

Race laughed at that. “Well, that's something. But seriously, where was the point where it got too complicated?”

Al opened his mouth to answer but didn't get the chance to say anything because right at this moment, the doorbell rang. Confused, Al looked up. His parents weren't going to be home until at least eight in the evening and it wasn't even four yet. “I'll be right back,” he said, standing up and running down the stairs to get to the front door. Hesitantly, he opened it. The smile that had left his lips at the thought of his homework came back in an instant. “Finch,” he exclaimed, throwing his arms around the other boy.

“Hey, Al,” Finch answered, holding him tightly. “I know I'm early but my dance teacher got sick, so I had no class today and you know that sitting around, simply waiting, makes me antsy.”

“And here I thought you came early because you wanted to see me,” Albert said when the hug was over, followed by a bold wink.

“I thought that was already implied. Anyway, am I interrupting you or something? I can still come back later.”

“No, no, it's fine. It's just -” Al threw a look over his shoulder, then looked back at his boyfriend. He lowered his voice a bit. “Race is helping me with our bio homework. So maybe...”

“Got it. No couple-y stuff.” Finch nodded, intertwining their fingers for a moment to press a kiss on the back of Al's hand and let go.

Albert was certain that his face was as red as his hair. “Yes.” Hastily, so that Finch wouldn't notice him blushing, he closed the door behind the other boy and led him up to his bedroom, where Race was playing some game on his phone.

At the sound of footsteps, Race looked up. “Oh, hey, Finch. Didn't know you'd be here, too. Do you also need help with biology?”

“I am in a different course but if I need help with something, I'll let you know. Coming here was more of a spontaneous decision,” Finch answered, greeting Race with a small hug that didn't last nearly as long as the one he'd had with Al.

“So,” Al started, sitting down next to Race at his desk, after having brought another chair for Finch. “You wanted to know where it got too complicated for me, right?”

Again, Race tried to explain the topic to Al, this time with some comments from Finch, which were unexpectedly helpful most of the time. After a while though, Al got distracted once again. Since his desk wasn't that big, Finch was sitting very near, leaning unconsciously into his personal space to take a look at the notes that Race used for his explanations.

Being aware of Finch, right there, next to him, Al wanted nothing more than to lean back against his chest, feeling his warmth against his back, his touch against his skin. So he did just that. Slowly, so that Race wouldn't notice anything, he leaned back against Finch. The redhead could hear Finch's heart skipping a beat and smiled shyly, trying to concentrate on Race's words.

He was relieved upon realising that when he actually listened to what Race said, he was able to understand at least the basics of the topic.

Then, he felt fingers trailing up his arm, soft touches, barely noticeable. Finch's breath was tickling his neck and Albert nearly let out a dreamy sigh as his boyfriend pressed a feather-light kiss against his skin. Carefully, Al looked at Race but he was busy adding some facts to his former notes.

Feeling daring, all of a sudden, Al decided to go a step further.

He remembered the conversation they'd had, right at the beginning of their relationship. Both of them knew that Albert was a person that craved touch, yet it was also a known fact that Albert didn't exactly consider himself being allosexual. Of course, he appreciated the aesthetics of other people and enjoyed cuddling or little touches, yet he hadn't ever felt the need to get sexual with anyone. Therefore, they had decided to start their relationship rather slowly. Maybe trying some things and seeing how both would react to them.

Naturally, it had been a surprise for both of them when Al had suddenly, during a really soft make-out-session, exclaimed that he wouldn't mind taking the relationship into sexual territory carefully as long as it was Finch who was by his side. They hadn't done anything but still, the fact that both of them weren't opposed to intimate touches was something they were aware of.

Still a bit hesitant, Al let his hand wander until it rested on Finch's upper thigh. He could hear Finch holding his breath for a moment and looked back at him with a smug smile. Finch was also wearing a little smile but it was obvious that he was torn between not doing anything Al would later regret and keep playing the little game of doing things while Race was seemingly oblivious to it.

“Do you think we can move on to doing the homework or is there still something that's not clear to you?” Race's sudden question made Al turn his head, maybe a bit too abrupt and he hoped that Race wasn't able to see his hand that was still resting on Finch's thigh – too high to be explained with a platonic reason.

“No, I got it. I think we can move on to the task,” Albert answered honestly.

“Okay, I'm just gonna get the sheet,” Race said, facing away from the both of them to search for his homework in his bag.

Albert nearly yelped when he felt Finch's hand on his cheek, turning his head to face him again. One heartbeat later, Finch was kissing him directly on the mouth.

“Oh, there it is.” Albert cursed Race in his head for finding his sheet that quickly because the kiss ended as suddenly as it had begun so that their friend wouldn't notice anything.

Actually solving the tasks they had to do turned out to be easy on the one hand and really difficult on the other hand. While writing his answers, Al kept thinking of what to do about Finch since it was now his turn to play the game. But he couldn't come up with something, instead trying to get the homework done as quickly as possible so he could be alone with Finch.

He was tired of keeping his hand in place on Finch's thigh, so in the end he settled for putting it in Finch's hand instead. After a while, when Race and Al were discussing one of the last questions, he felt Finch starting to massage his palm and he feared that he'd never be able to stop smiling.

It seemed as if ages had passed before Race and Al finally finished their homework and Race was packing his stuff together. “Are you staying here, Finch?” Race asked, zipping up his bag.

Finch nodded, causing Race to look at him, then at Albert, then at their joined hands. “Wait a moment,” the blond started, seemingly confused, then kind of sceptic. “Are you two holding hands?”

Al was at a loss of words, not sure what to answer but Finch was just laughing. “We're not holding hands. I'm just massaging his hand.”

“A very platonic gesture, I might add,” Al chimed in, retrieving his hand back from Finch's grip. “I've read that platonic massaging was good for... you know. Your health and such. Biology. You're the expert on that, don't you know that?” The redhead knew that he was trying a bit too hard but he kind of liked what he had with Finch. Just the two of them. He didn't want to let anybody in on their relationship just yet.

Not only Finch but Race as well looked at him with a funny face. “Yeah, of course, how could I ever forget the healing power of platonic massaging,” Race eventually stated, taking his bag and standing up. “I'll find the door myself. I hope I could help you at least a little bit.”

“Definitely. Thanks for the help, I owe you something,” Albert said and the two of them hugged.

“Oh, don't mention it. It was also a good revision for myself. Bye, Finch” Race hugged Finch as well, then looked at both of them for a long moment. “Have a fun evening and don't do anything I wouldn't do.” He said with a grin, put his cigarette between his lips and left the room.

Albert only dared to breathe again when he heard the front door opening and closing. “Well, that was...”

“Interesting,” Finch finished his sentence as if he'd known exactly what Al wanted to say.

The redhead nodded. “That's one way to put it. Do you think he noticed something?”

“I'm not sure. Between your babbling about platonic massages with healing powers and me trying not to jump you – a platonic gesture, of course – I couldn't see if he was oblivious or just polite,” Finch answered with a smug smile and laughed when Al punched his shoulder lightly.

“I panicked!”, Al said. The sound of his phone distracted him for a moment and he pulled it out of his jeans, only to see that he had two messages from Race.

Al, you're my best friend and I love you to death but you're not only bad at biology but also at being subtle.

Also, you two are totally my new OTP and I'll support you no matter what. I won't say anything to anybody. Have fun!

“Told you so,” Finch said when Al read the messages out loud.

Al let out a sigh and put his head on Finch's shoulder. “Maybe learning to be subtle should be the next point on my to-do-list.”

“I thought the next point on your to-do-list was me,” Finch answered with a laugh.

“Why do I even put up with you?” Al tried to suppress a laugh and failed. Then, he put his arms around Finch, debating with himself if his boldness from before was a one-time-thing or if he might take Finch's comment seriously.

He took his time thinking and all this time Finch was right there, waiting for him, just happy being together.

[everlarkficexchange]

The Virgin (Social) Suicides

WRITTEN BY: @ally147writes

PROMPT 85: Katniss makes unsettling discovery that everyone in her close and extended group of friends has dated at least once and sometimes even each other. Except for her. The “late bloomer” teasing (b/c she’s never even been kissed) stings. Older boy Gale crosses paths with group, finds he shares common interests with Katniss, they get together to hunt, leads to him casually inviting her out for a real dinner date. Not feeling desire but pressure to “get it over with,” she accepts. Peeta has regrets. [submitted by @567inpanem]

NOTES: I desperately wanted to have this complete, but uni conspired against me. A million thanks to our angel mods, @xerxia31 and @javistg for holding this exchange, and allowing the extra week 😊

This is parts one-and-a-half (ish?) of a (probably?) four-part story. I won’t be posting to AO3 or anywhere else until the rest of it is complete. Parts 2, 3 and 4 are all between 30% and 75% complete already, so hopefully it won’t take me too long to wrap up.

Unbeta’d. All errors are my own.

Rated M for swears and discussions of sex (or lack thereof)

Thom and Lavinia’s engagement party is a sedate affair, which Katniss never would have guessed. Whenever Thom or Lavinia were left in charge of planning anything, it always started with them drowning themselves in cheap beer at Abernathy’s, got a bit muddy somewhere in between, and ended in a trip to the hospital for someone to get their broken wrist or dislocated shoulder set.

And once, to the police station, to face indecent exposure charges.

The doing of their mothers, Katniss supposes. (Probably a smart move, considering the alternatives; no one’s engagement party should end in a holding cell). They’re perched by the string quartet, amongst a cluster of white rose bushes, their oversized, feather-trimmed hats knock against each other’s with every exaggerated, bird-like nod and squawking laugh they release, while their husbands make awkward small-talk by the fence overlooking the golf course.

How they’re out there like that in the sun, in dark suits and all, Katniss has no idea. She dabs a napkin across her damp hairline and peels her sticky skin away from the plastic of the chair. An afternoon in the sprawling gardens of the Snow estate, when it’s pushing a hundred degrees out, isn’t exactly her idea of a good day — if she weren’t part of the bridal party, Katniss would have skipped out hours ago. Add that to the cocktail dress she all but shoved her body into and the hair that’s falling out of her braid and sticking to her glossed lips, she’s about ready to revolt.

But, she concedes, Thom’s parents are loaded up to their eyeballs, and they’ve made sure there’s free — mercifully cold — booze everywhere, so bottom’s up.

The happy couple don’t seem to mind the heat, or the change in pace too much. The groom-to-be dips his laughing bride over his arm and kisses her square on the lips, swaying along to the soft tones of the violin strings, the intimate connection between them somehow the simplest thing in the world. The scene should inspire at least a smile — she’s happy for her friends, right? But it tugs somewhere deep at Katniss instead, unrelenting and unrepentant, leaving behind an odd sort of hollowness, demanding more yet leaving her starving for… something.

“They’re sweet together, aren’t they?” says Madge as she sips her champagne.

Katniss shakes her head, but she can’t stop the nagging in her gut. “Yeah, I guess. It’s a little sickening, actually.”

“You would say that, wouldn’t you?”

“What? They’re hunting for each other’s intestines through their mouths.”

“You are absolutely disgusting.” Madge swipes a celery stick from their shared crudité platter and nibbles at it like a rabbit. “Please stop speaking.”

“I’m still not wrong.”

“I guess it is kind of funny, though,” Madge goes on, chomping through the celery. “You’d never guess he could be so doting. I mean, when I dated Thom, the nicest thing he ever did for me was give me the olives off his pizza.” She sighs and smiles an odd little smile as Katniss’ hand freezes with a cherry tomato halfway to her mouth. “I guess it really does change everything when you meet the right person.”

“Wait, wait, wait.” She drops the tomato, and it bounces off the table and lands on the floor, where someone will slip on it later, probably her. “You dated Thom? As in, Thom, Thom?”

Madge arches a plucked brow. “Well, yeah, a while ago now, not long after we first started college. Well before Lav was in the picture, if that’s what you’re worried about. I thought you knew about it; we were all friends then.”

Katniss frowns and tries to dredge the memory — what would Thom have looked like then? Was this during his mohawk days, or after? “For how long?”

Madge quirks her head to the side, and not a single strand falls out of her intricate up-do. “I don’t know. A few months, maybe? Not a long time.”

Katniss taps her index finger — unadorned with polish, to Prim’s everlasting dismay — against the pristine surface of the timber table. “Is it… weird? Being friends with him now, I mean?”

Madge laughs. “Kat, if it was weird to hang out with someone I’d dated before, I’d have to find a whole new group of friends.”

“Why?” Madge smiles that weird little smile again, and the urge to slap it off is overwhelming. “How many of them have you gone out with?”

“Uh…? Let’s see.” Madge counts them off on her fingers, like there’s a real need to keep track of them. “Thom, Darius, Gloss. Leevy a couple of times, too, but that was over pretty much as soon as it started. Oh, and Peeta once, as well.”

Katniss chokes on a piece of cucumber. Oh, god. “Peeta, too?”

“Yeah. What’s the matter, Katniss?” Madge flashes another grin as Katniss knocks back a hearty sip of her drink. “Jealous?”

“No!” she exclaims. But without even meaning to, she finds Peeta across the courtyard, where he’s entertaining Lavinia’s many nieces and nephews with embarrassing Dad-style magic tricks. The sleeves of his starched, pale blue dress shirt are pushed up around his elbows, and there’s a rogue curl stuck with sweat against his forehead. He meets her eyes and smiles at her, as warm and tangible as a touch. Her cheeks flood with heat and she tears her gaze away. God, it’s like they’re in school all over again.

Madge shoots a grin Katniss can only describe as shit-eating, and it’s all she can do not to throw her remaining champagne in Madge’s face.

“No, of course you’re not,” Madge says, like she’s talking down a screaming child. “That would mean you had a soul or something.”

There’s nothing she can say now that wouldn’t incriminate her further. Katniss turns to the dripping glass of ice water at her elbow and drains it.

“Well…” she says, once she’s certain the nuclear blush on her cheeks is under control. “Why’d you only go out with him once?”

Madge smiles that stupid little smile again. The secret one Katniss has no insight to or context for.

“Peeta’s… very sweet. He’ll make the girl he’s got his eye on extremely happy.”

The words are innocuous, but something in Katniss seizes urgently. “Peeta’s got someone in mind?”

Madge nods and adds solemnly, “Has done for years now.”

“Years?” There’s no good reason why this information should make her want to break something. None at all. “Why won’t he make a move?”

Madge snorts, and the sound is weird coming out of someone so refined. “Honestly?” she says, as she flags down a waiter for another class of champagne. “I’d say he’s terrified. The girl isn’t exactly one who’ll take his declaration with open arms.”

She shouldn’t — she knows she doesn’t want to — but she prods anyway. “You know who she is?”

“She was pretty much the basis of our one and only date. He didn’t think he had a chance, needed someone to wallow with, that sort of thing.” Madge smiles a dreamy sort of smile and tips her eyes closed. “God, we got so drunk.”

“…And?”

“I’m not going to tell you!” Madge nudges her with her bony elbow, but the effect is ruined by the draping, bell-sleeves of Madge’s deep-aubergine dress. “Ask him yourself if you’re that curious.”

Yeah, there’s not a prayer in hell of that happening.

“So,” Katniss says instead. “Have our friends always been so… incestuous?”

Madge rolls her eyes and, for the first time since this awkward line of questioning began, looks vaguely annoyed. “Katniss, what’s the problem? I’m pretty sure Annie and Finnick are the only other completely monogamous people we know. Johanna’s dated pretty much everyone, too. Cato made the rounds too, before he got his shit together with Clove. Darius dated Lavinia, too, when he and Thom were roommates. That’s how she met Thom in the first place.”

“So… yes?”

Madge laughs and sighs at the same time. “It’s people in their mid-twenties being people in their mid-twenties. Honestly, I’m surprised you never noticed before — it’s not like Johanna’s discreet about it or anything — but I guess you’ve always been a bit…”

“A bit what?”

“A bit… I don’t know… pure, I guess?”

“Pure?” She spits the word out like poison and leaves it in the air.

Madge pats her arm. “There’s nothing wrong with pure, Kat. It’s just… we’re twenty-five now, you know? You don’t need to be so embarrassed about anyone else’s love life. Hell, maybe we should get you a nice date of your own, so you’ve got something else to focus on.”

Heat crawls up her chest and settles in her face. Her fancy cocktail dress feels way too small and way too hot.

“Uh…”

“Kat…”

“… Yeah?”

“You have gone on a date before, haven’t you?”

“I… uh… no?”

She’s not sure why it comes out as a question. She sure knows about her complete and total lack of love life; no need to have other people confirming it for her.

Madge’s jaw drops. “You’re kidding.”

“Why would I joke about that?” she retorts. “And we’ve been friends for how long, now? How didn’t you notice?”

“I don’t know! It’s just that…” She scrutinises Katniss like she’s a wayward science experiment. “Really?”

Katniss rolls her eyes. “Yes, Madge. Really.”

“Not even in college? No one? Nothing?”

“Is it so hard to believe?” Katniss snaps. “No, Madge. I have never, not once, ever gone on a date.”

 “Well, you’ve… you’ve at least had sex before, right?”

Heat fills her cheeks until she’s sure she’s about to melt from the pain of it all, though she’s got no idea why it embarrasses her so much. It’s normal, right? Or normal-ish, at least. And it’s not like she planned on it happening. Or not happening. Whatever.

Her virginity isn’t some sacred, precious jewel she’s carting around in a bubble wrap-lined basket. And it’s not something she’s hoarding, just so she can get down on bended knee and present it to The Right Guy when The Right Moment comes along. It’s not a personal choice, a feminist statement or even a religious one. The opportunity to do so just hasn’t… come up, so to speak.

And it’s fine. She guesses. Most of the time, it doesn’t even bother her. She’s had enough going on in her life that it isn’t something she’s missed, or even had time for. And it’s not like she’d be any good at any of it, anyway. The hand-holding. The intimacy. The kisses.

The sex.

The mere idea almost makes her shudder. She’d suck. And not in the sexy way.

It might be nice. Maybe. One day. When she’s good and ready to make it happen.

Until then, though…

“Uh…”

Madge’s bright blue eyes blow wide. “Katniss!” she shrieks.

A hundred people turn and stare at them, Peeta included, not even slightly helping her blush to fade faster.

“For the love of God, Madge, would you keep it down?” Katniss swats at Madge’s arm and hisses down at the table, “No, I’ve never done… anything.”

Madge lowers her voice to a harsh whisper. “Not even kissed?”

Right on cue, Thom kisses Lavinia again, long enough for it to get awkward. Katniss scowls and looks away. “No, Madge,” she mumbles. “Not even kissed. Or held hands. Or hugged or by someone who wasn’t an immediate family member.”

“What about yourself? Do you masturbate?”

“Fucking hell, Madge, really?”

“Okay, sorry. I just…” Madge gives a tight laugh and shakes her head. “I… You cannot be serious right now.”

“What part of this is so hard to believe?”

“I don’t know. I mean, you’re gorgeous, for one. A great person, kind, generous, brave, loyal to a fault. Anyone would be lucky, you know?”

Katniss snorts and drags a carrot stick through a warm bowl of hummus. Why couldn’t they have held the party indoors, like normal people? Yeah, maybe she’d still be getting the third degree, but at least the condiments might be cold. “Yeah, no. I don’t think so.”

“Well,” Madge starts, leaning in so they’re a hairsbreadth apart. “Have you ever… you know, wanted to?”

There’s no right way to answer that question. If she says yes, she’s as doomed as if she answers no. “I don’t know. Maybe?”

“Are you…” Madge stops, starts, opens and closes her mouth like a fish blowing bubbles. “Have you ever thought that you might be ace or something?” She holds up her hands and all but yells before Katniss can say anything, “Not that there’s… it doesn’t matter if you are or anything like that, I just thought… maybe you’re —”

“— No,” Katniss cuts in, before Madge can hurt herself. “I’ve had… you know, crushes and stuff before, I’ve just never been in a relationship, and I wouldn’t have rejected one if it came along.” She shrugs. “It just never did, and I’m okay with that.”

But, is she? God, and she’s always thought of herself as an enlightened, modern, don’t-need-no-man sort of woman, too.

“Honestly, Kat? You’ve probably been hit on a thousand times, but it never registered in your head that it was even happening to you.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Just that… I don’t think you’re aware of the effect you have on people, that’s all.”

Katniss frowns at the wilting crudité platter. “You’re making me sound like a heartless bitch.”

Madge rolls her eyes. “Of course, you’re not a heartless bitch. I’m just saying you should… I don’t know… open your eyes a little, take a second look, you know? Someone might really surprise you one day.”

Again — completely against her will, she swears — she finds Peeta across the courtyard. This time, he doesn’t look up from pulling a coin from a little girl’s ear. “I’ll think about it.”

“You definitely won’t, but I’ll give you a pass for tonight.”

Katniss cringes. “You’re not going to make it your mission to get me laid, are you?”

“This isn’t a shitty eighties movie, Katniss,” Madge says as she pushes her seat away from the table and stands on her ridiculous four-inch heels. “So, no. I’m not going to try and get you laid. Now, let’s go dance or something; it’s a party, for God’s sake.”

XXX

The next time they’re all together, at a reasonable temperature and in normal clothes, Katniss surveys her friends with a strange, acute sense of awareness she didn’t possess before. Annie perched on Finnick’s lap, feeding him pretzels like coins in a slot machine; Cato and Clove with their arms wrapped around each other so tight it looks like it should hurt; Johanna and Bristel with their tongues so far down each other’s throats that they’re probably going to leave and do God knows what before their next round arrives. All of them know a sort of intimacy Katniss can’t even begin to fathom. All of them… except her.

And it’s… weird. Like she’s on the outside of a joke that’s been going on for years.

How are they all still friends? How is it all so… natural for them? Granted, it’s not like she’s got any insight to what’s going on in their brains, but it must be awkward on some level, mustn’t it? How can you share so much of yourself with one person, then pretend like it never happened? And then, how can you do it with four or five or maybe even more of the people you hang out with the most? Katniss can’t wrap her mind around any of it.

Only Peeta, sitting beside her, seems to notice her out-of-body experience.

He nudges her ankle with his foot beneath the table and leans in to whisper, “Are you all right, Katniss?”

She shivers at the warmth and scent of him, of cinnamon and dill and all kinds of other delicious things. He’s never smelled bad in all the time she’s known him. “Yeah. Just, uh… weird day.” She tips back her gin and tonic and almost chokes on it.

He nods, thoughtful, and takes another sip of his own drink, the only one he’ll have for the whole night. “That sucks,” he says, and she can tell he means it, too. He smiles, and another shiver races through her. “Wanna talk about it?”

She shakes her head. “It’s nothing. Just the usual.”

“Another drink, then?”

“I think I’m done for the night, but thanks.”

He shrugs and takes another sip. “No problem.”

“Hey… is it true you dated Madge?” She wants to punch herself in the face as soon as the words leave her mouth.

He almost spits out his drink. “What?” He coughs and thumps his chest with his fist. “She told you about that?”

“She just mentioned it. I had no idea.”

“It was… uh, a while ago.” He drags a hand through his curls and surveys her with something almost like worry. “What else did she tell you?”

“Not much. Just that you guys went out a couple of times —”

“— Once,” Peeta cuts in, a tendon in his jaw twitching. “We went out once. Years ago.”

“All right.” She holds up her hands in surrender. “Sorry for mentioning it.”

“No, Katniss —” He breaks off with a sigh and twirls the last of his beer around in the bottle. “Yeah, Madge and I went out. It wasn’t a big deal. We were both dealing with… I don’t know, shitty personal lives, I guess?”

“Madge said it was to forget a girl.”

Jesus fucking Christ, would someone please, please, cut out her tongue?

“I… uh…” He chugs back the rest of his beer in one feel swoop. Awesome, now he doesn’t have to watch her tear at her hair. “I guess it was kind of like that. I think Madge had just stopped seeing that Blight guy? It was… a while ago, that’s for sure.” He looks at her critically. “Why do you ask?”

She lifts one shoulder in a half-shrug. “I don’t know. Just, she mentioned it and I was… curious, I guess.”

His lips quirk into a hint of a smile. “Curious about what, Katniss?”

Yeah, her brain taunts her. Curious about what, Katniss?

Even if she knew, she’s got no clue how to go about admitting it to Peeta, of all people.

“I don’t know,” she mumbles at her empty glass. “Nothing, I guess.”

Now, the concern is back full-force. “You sure?”

Not really, but she’s not so sure why or what or how anymore. “Yeah. I’m sure. But I think I’ll take that drink now, if you’re still offering.”

He flags down the nearest server and says, “Yeah. I think I might, too.”

[yehet-me-up]

The Science of Attraction

Pairing: Hansol/Vernon x Reader (female)

Word Count: 3,669

Genre: Camp Counselor AU, Christmas fic

Rating: (F) - fluff/SFW

Summary: The 3rd Annual Jasper College Winter Camp Christmas Competition is off to a heated start. The middle schoolers you’re in charge of at your college’s winter break camp are a mess of hormones and crushes. But no one is more affected by the season than the counselors.

“You like him, don’t you?” says the sassy thirteen year old next to you for the third time.

Your jaw drops and you pause in your decorating to look at her. Bethany came to camp last year, as a twelve year old, and has only become more forthright and nosy in the year since. You snap your jaw shut and re-focus on stringing lights around the tree in the common room, ignoring her.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” you say in a desperate attempt to stop her loud, incessant questions.

“I think you do, and like, he’s soooo cute. And funny. And sweet. Why wouldn’t you?” she demands and you can feel her intent stare as she untangles more lights for you.

You give in and look across the large space to where to boys group is working on their tree. Although, you think with a laugh, it’s more resembling a trash heap at this point. One of their counselors, Vernon, is sitting on a couch, drinking a hot chocolate and directing his horde of middle schoolers around like basketball coach. 

You allow yourself a moment of weakness, three seconds to take in the casual way his hair falls over his forehead. The twist of his lips, the amusement in his eyes, as he lords over the space, his arm slung over the back of the couch. He’s like the big brother every camper wishes they had; all of the boys at camp look up to him with awe.

His head turns, as if drawn by your attention, and you snap back to face the tree so quickly your hair whacks you in the face. A flush rises in your cheeks and you fumble with the lights, desperate to not be caught staring. After a minute you look over at Bethany, who is handing you more lights with a look that so clearly says ‘told you so’ you want to burst out laughing. 

“I’ll tell Adam Rockford you like him if you say anything,” you tease and her eyes go wide. She opens her mouth to say something frantically but you cut her off. “How about we keep this between ourselves, hmm?” you offer, holding out your hand in a truce. 

She closes her jaw with a hmph and sighs, holding out her hand with resignation and shakes yours. She narrows her eyes with renewed focus at the tree. “Now, let’s get a move on. We’ve got to kick their asses. You know what’s at stake.”

You laugh - she looks like a mini general, your right hand in the battle for the victory. The dorm is relatively quiet for a Saturday afternoon. When school’s in session it’s a crush of bodies coming and going. Students off to late night study sessions, returning from sports practice, holing up in their dorms with movies and friends, or off to parties large and small. 

You smirk, thinking about how if this were any other Saturday night you’d be with your best friend, Claire. Either you drag her to the arcade in the basement of Miller Hall with your Astronomy major friends or she drags you to her sorority, forcing you into a dress and making you hang out at yet another get together in some fraternity’s basement. 

You’re definitely the odd couple – her the fashion merchandising major with the Louis Vuitton scarves and designer handbags, you the with the beat up Converse sneakers, permanent pen marks on your hands from doodling too much, and endless supply of space pun sweatshirts. Today’s reads Why didn’t the Dog Star laugh at the joke? It was too Sirius.

But you’d bonded over stapling reams of paper in the counseling during your work study placements freshman year and had only grown closer the last two years. She was off in Paris with her family, but she was obsessively teasing you about Vernon, asking how good he was looking this year and making you want to toss your phone into the nearest body of water.

Now that it’s winter break the dorms are almost empty of students. Your school is near a wealthy community, filled with parents wanting to get out of town for the holidays; off to islands and tropical resorts. Desperate for some time away, without kids. So two years ago your school offered free room and board for two weeks over the holidays to anyone who wanted to be a counselor at the ‘camp.’

You agreed of course. Your family isn’t big on holiday celebrations, and the break gave you plenty of time to get a head start on your reading for next quarter, and to use the showers without anyone else around. 

The only ones staying in the building aside from the security guard were the fifty or so students, seven counselors, and the faculty member who agreed to oversee this; Angie Callaghan, an English professor who was way more excited about the idea of a competition than any of the counselors or the students.

The first year it was simple – the team with the best floor decorations got to pick what movie everyone watched on Christmas Eve. The second year, things escalated. There was a cookie baking competition and a contest to see which team could wrap the most presents in ten minutes. 

This year, Angie’s gone all out. Tree decorating. Caroling. An Elf movie quoting challenge. Her right hand woman, a senior Architecture student named Sydney, has a permanent clipboard tucked under her arm, recording points. It was cute, you thought, how into it the kids got. They threw out taunts left and right to each other, tried to sabotage the other team’s efforts. 

And this year you’d heard that the teams had made a side bet under the table. The losing group has to run outside barefoot on New Year’s Eve in only their pajamas. Hence, Bethany’s steely focus as she critiques your light placement. A squad of pre-teen girls swarm around you, laying out ornaments and discussing strategy with an intensity usually reserved for disarming bombs.

A loud laugh comes from the other side of the room and your attention is once again drawn to Vernon. He’s bent over laughing at a boy who’s making a very inappropriate gesture with two ornaments. His eyes crinkle in the corners and you feel out of breath all of a sudden, struck again by how good looking he is, how magnetic his energy is.

When he showed up to the meeting for counselors freshman year with you, you were shocked. Two years ago he was the stereotypical frat guy. Black baseball cap on backwards, looking for everything in the world like he was trying to act as if he was too cool to be there. 

But over those first two weeks you saw the crack in his mask. The genuine smile that came to his face when he watched Blake Anderson get up his nerves and talk to his crush. How he stayed up late at night cleaning up the dishes and cups from the common room.

The way he swelled with pride when several of the students asked him what he wanted to major in over breakfast one day. He rambled on about business and majoring in something practical for a minute before he’d stopped short. Realized who he was talking to, realized he didn’t have to pretend to give a crap about ‘practical careers.’ 

He promptly started talking at the speed of light about his passion for video games and his desire to code the next Halo or Call of Duty. You were at the next table, grinning into your orange juice as the façade of the ‘too cool’ boy melted away to reveal someone who was just as big of a nerd as you were. 

The next year was even worse for you and the crush you were so intent on denying. You found him in the common room one night, consoling Bethany while she cried about how her parents had gone on vacation without her. And how she didn’t think they cared about her. He’d taken a deep breath, looked at her with her head in her hands, tears streaming down her cheek, looking like he wanted to cry himself at her distress. He’d turned and seen you in the doorway. 

You motioned to her to ask if he needed help and he happily scooted over to let you join them. The three of you had stayed up half the night, listening to her talk, offering words of comfort, stories, laughter and jokes to make her feel better. After she went to bed the two of you had sat there in a bubble of silence, regarding one another as if you’d each seen a new side of the other that you hadn’t noticed before.

You didn’t run into each other too much on campus, large that it was. Your departments, astronomy and computer science were only vaguely in the same sphere. But with your best friend’s involvement in the Greek life on campus, you saw him every now and again at parties. You gave each other friendly waves, nods of acknowledgement, as you passed in hallways, coming out of classrooms, in various living room parties. 

But now here you both are, yet again. Together in this in-between place, once more. Halfway between fall and winter quarters. Halfway between real life and this magical, dreamy holiday place. It’s getting harder and harder to stop yourself from wanting him. 

He’s never said anything about it, but you’ve felt his eyes on you. Seen the way that his attention lingers on you in counselor meetings. Noticed that he always tries to stand next to you in line for breakfast, giving you a wry smile when inevitably some hyper twelve year old cuts between. 

For someone who belongs to the largest fraternity on campus, he’s much more subtle than you would have expected. Wise beyond his years. Not that it doesn’t frustrate you to no end that he’s never made a move, but you can appreciate those qualities about him – his patience, the way his keen eyes seem to take in every detail of a person. The knowing smile he’d given you two days ago the night before camp began when you walked into the dorm together.

If the Christmas Competition is for the students, the unspoken challenge between you and Vernon is a game just for the two of you. Neither of you acknowledging this… thing between the two of you for the last few years. But this year feels different, the normal holiday magic feels charged with electricity. 

Last night, the first of camp, everyone had participated in the annual decorating of the dorm floor you were all staying on. Being the tallest of the group, he was chosen to hang the ceremonial mistletoe. You were pouring apple cider for everyone in the kitchen, but you’d come out just in time for him to step off the ladder. His eyes had caught yours, looking back between the mistletoe and you before giving you a knowing grin and walking off to put the ladder away. 

Frozen to the spot, you’d looked after him with a mix of longing and frustration, thinking he’ll be the death of you. Now he’s sitting on the couch with his legs wide, an easy grin on his face, and you can’t decide if you want to kiss him or dump water on him. A mix of both, if you’re honest. 

Finally finished with the lights, you move onto the ornaments, staunchly ignoring the way that you can feel his eyes on you as you stretch up to reach the top branches. Your team finishes first, of course. You pack up the supplies and head off to the store room with a smug look at him, giving the boy’s disaster of a tree a raise of your brow. 

The dorm being used for storage is a dangerous mix of boxes, packages, and wrapping paper. You do your best to organize the chaos for a few minutes, but suddenly you feel a presence behind you. Turning, you see Vernon in the doorway, leaning against the frame with his arms folded. 

“Can I help you?” you ask, feigning ignorance that there’s anything in the air between you two.

“Would you like a hand?” he offers innocently, motioning to the leaning tower of bags and boxes. 

“Oh, fine,” you huff out, edgy at the thought of being with him in such an enclosed space. 

He gives you a grin that nearly stops your heart before dramatically rolling up the sleeves of his sweater and diving in. 

“So, how were your fall classes?” he asks as he tries to balance an armload of wrapping paper.

“Fantastic,” you start, intending to give a one-word answer, but your excitement keeps you talking. “I’m finally in the advanced courses so we’re actually getting to work on real projects. We’re helping out the local lab with charting the beginnings of a comprehensive Oort cloud diagram,” you say, your voice raising several octaves in your excitement. 

When you look over at him he’s watching you with a soft smile, paused in his movements. You impulsively bring your hand to your face, worried that there’s something wrong. “What is it?” you ask, and he blinks and shakes his head. 

“Nothing. It’s just - you’re so cute when you talk science,” he says and turns to set down the paper on the desk, completely missing the way your jaw drops. 

Without a coherent response to that you busy yourself with organizing the boxes of granola bars on the dresser. “What about you, I think I heard you got an internship at Bethesda?” you ask, trying to keep your curiosity to a normal level. 

He turns around, eyes wide and excited. “Yes, it’s been incredible. The new RPG they’re designing – well, I cant give you any details, but it’s going to be huge. I can’t believe they accepted me,” he says and rubs his hand on his neck in a nervous gesture.

“I’m not surprised,” you start. “Jeff Calkins in my advanced database management course says you’re wildly talented. A direct quote.”

He looks stunned for a moment, then his lips pull back into a proud grin, making him too like a little boy who just won a first prize. You spend the next half an hour discussing your majors, your internships, both reveling in the fact that someone in your life understands your obsessions and passions. 

His hands make quick work of the mess, his body coming into your orbit as you move around each other; bouncing around each other like atoms in the small dorm room. The connection you feel to him only escalates as you watch his mouth form words with care, every syllable sincere and passionate. 

Your gaze lingers too long on him, unable to tear yourself away. The curiosity that’s been building in you for the last two years seems to simmer to the surface on this night, in this room. Your hands fumble with an extra string of lights as the fantasies you’ve had come rushing through your mind. 

His lips on yours, his hands on your hips, pressing you against the closet door of your dorm. 

His hand holding yours at parties, the sun you orbit around, no longer adrift on your own. 

His front pressed to your back, his hands next to yours as you play Space Invaders at the arcade.

Someone who can understand the need you have to make order of the universe, to create art out of data and numbers. Someone who exists between worlds, between cliques, with you. 

“Y/N?” he asks from behind you, startling you from your thoughts. 

You turn around to find him watching you, hands in his pockets, hip resting against the desk. “Sorry, I spaced out for a sec, what did you say?” you ask in a rush, your eyes unable to stop from wandering to his lips. 

His own gaze is distracted, taking in your flushed cheeks, the way you hold the string of lights as though it’s the only thing grounding you to reality. He leans off the desk, walking a step closer to you. 

“I asked if you were seeing anyone,” he says in a low voice, laced with hope. His warm eyes find yours, taking a deep breath in just as you feel all the air leave your lungs. 

Your brow furrows, your brain seemingly unable to form these words into a concept you can understand. You tell yourself you’re hallucinating, suddenly worried that your logical, fact based mind has slipped into insanity and started merging your dreams with reality. 

“Huh?” is all you can say, your shoulders slumping, lips pouting in confusion.

He laughs, delighted by your disbelief. Closing the distance between you in two strides, his hands pull the string of lights from you and set them on the bed. Gently he steps up to you, sliding his fingers between your own and staring down at where your hands have become interlocked. 

“Are you seeing anyone? I’ve always felt like we’d be good together. We somehow kept missing each other, passing each other. But I came to camp this year determined to find out if you want me too,” he says, slow and steady, as if knowing how surprising this must be for you. This sudden declaration of feeling. 

“I just – no? I’m not seeing anyone,” you manage, your sanity returning. “Wait. You and me? Really?” you ask, wanting to reaffirm that these are actual, real words he said. That he means what you think he does.

He nods, his eyes alight with laugher. “Yes, Y/N. You. Me. Together,” he says like he would explain to a child and you purse your lips at him. 

“You know how I feel about you,” you say plainly, wondering if he could somehow have missed the way you’ve been drawn to him these past two years. 

“I have no idea,” he says with a grin. “Why don’t you tell me about it.” 

You let out a laugh, lips twisting into a wry smile. “Well, first there’s the science thing. God, I love when you talk nerdy to me, too-” you start. Your words trail off on a sigh as he bends forward to place a chaste kiss to your cheek. A noise leaves you as his lips move lower, trailing down your neck, something between a whine and a moan.

“No, no, keep going, I’m enjoying this,” he says, teasing, his hot breath brushing your ear. His lips find the sensitive skin of your neck and you let out a surprised sound. You smother it with your hand, not wanting to draw anyone’s attention to the room.

Your eyes drift close as he continues to press warm, open-mouthed kisses there. You lick your lips and do your best to continue. “And you are so good with the campers, they love you. You show them that it’s okay to belong to lots of different groups, to be many different things at once.”

Finally he pulls back, the lightness in his eyes turning into something deeper. “I want to kiss you. So tell me right now if you don’t like me,” he laughs, releasing your hands and bringing his up to hold your face. 

“I like you,” you say in a rush. A second later he bends down to press his lips against yours, the moment stretching out as you try to wrap your mind around the fact that he’s actually here, in front of you, wanting you too. 

You bring your hands to his waist, folding yourself into his warmth as you remove any remaining space between your bodies. He moves against you, slanting his lips against yours and capturing them fully. You sigh against him, disbelief turning to passion as you catch up and pull back, needing to look him in the eye.

“So, wait. You like me too?” you ask with a grin. 

He laughs quietly, brushing your hair behind your ear with one hand. He nods, looking down at you with a cute smile. 

“Tell me all about it,” you say in a light voice, leaning over to press a kiss to his jaw, making him swallow dramatically. 

“Okay, let’s start with the fact that you have the current high score on Space Invaders, because that is incredibly hot…” he starts and you smile against his skin.

You emerge back into the main common room together, much later that night - hair ruffled, lips red and swollen, hands clasped together. The space is blissfully absent of middle schoolers or any other adults. The two trees stand at opposite ends, direct contrasts in skill level and aesthetic appeal. You stare at the mess that is the boys tree and smother a giddy laugh that he immediately notices. 

“Don’t say it,” he groans, his hands tickling your waist until you laugh and have to slap his hands away.

“But-” your start, holding your hand out indignantly to the monstrosity in the corner. 

“I swear I will break up with you if you say it,” he says, a lopsided grin coming to his mouth.

“Okay, fine,” your say with a huff, dropping your hand. A beat later, his words hit you. “Wait a minute… break up with me? Are we together now?” you ask, a wave of hope rising in you. 

“It took me two years to catch you. I don’t plan on letting you go any time soon,” he says warmly, leaning forward to kiss the tip of your nose.

“Okay, but that really is the saddest Christmas tree I’ve ever seen,” you laugh when he pulls back.

“Oh boy, you’ve insulted Clarence. You’re going to get it now, babe,” he says with a devilish smile, grabbing your hand to pull you against him. His eyes glance up to the mistletoe above your head before leaning down to kiss you again.

[cathygeha]

REVIEW

Tell No Lies by Allison Brennan

Quinn & Costa #2

 Detective Kara Quinn is on leave from her job with LAPD working with FBI Agent Matt Costa and his mobile unit. She is a “cop” through and through but is unsafe in Los Angeles. Matt & Kara worked together in book one of the series, had a romantic interlude, and now are working to find the murderer of a college student who was killed while searching with her boyfriend for a toxic waste dump impacting the dessert environment. With team in place the story begins just after Billy rushes Emma finds Emma and tries to save her. Will the team be able to find the murderer? Is toxic dumping taking place and if so, by whom? Will the romance between Matt and Kara continue? And, what else will be unearthed as the story unfolds?

 What I liked:

* Kara: intelligent, quick thinking, loves her job, a chameleon, does what it takes, uses her childhood con artist skills in her current undercover jobs, interesting, fierce, capable…someone I am becoming more and more invested in.

* Matt: intelligent, a bit of a workaholic, work has impacted his relationships in the past, cares about his team, an enigmaMichael, interested in learning more about him.

* The relationship development between Kara and Matt – not much at first in this book but see a great deal of potential as the series progresses.

* The complexity of the case: started simply and became more involved as the story progressed.

*  The FBI team members: Michael, Ryder, Zack – the bits and pieces about each one that were shared in this story made me wonder about them and want to know more. It will be fun to see how these characters (and others) grow as the series continues.

* The many threads, that at times seemed too many, all being pulled together by the end of the story. Better than a simple plot executed quickly.

* Billy: I felt for him and hoped that in the future he would heal and be able to move on. I also wondered if he might end up joining the FBI when he finishes school.

* Frank: Emma’s boss, a good man, haunted, focused, provided a safe haven to more than one in the end.

* The dark, gritty, harsh, realness that immersed in the story.

* The twists and turns.

* That there was a resolution to the case even if some were not 100% satisfied with the results

 What I didn’t like:

* Knowing that such things happen all too often

* Having to wait for book three ;)

 Thank you to NetGalley and Harlequin-Mira for the ARC – This is my honest review.

 5 Stars

  BLURB:

New York Times bestselling author Allison Brennan's newest thriller again features an edgy young female LAPD detective and an ambitious special agent, both part of a mobile FBI unit that is brought in to investigate the unsolved murder of a college activist and its alleged ties to high stakes crime in the desert Southwest.

 Something mysterious is killing the wildlife in the desert hills just south of Tucson, Arizona. When Emma Perez, a college-intern-turned activist, sets out to collect her own evidence, she too ends up dead. Local law enforcement seems slow to get involved. That’s when the mobile FBI unit goes undercover to infiltrate the town and the copper refinery located there in search of possible leads. Costa and Quinn find themselves scouring the desolate landscape that keeps on giving up clues to something much darker—greed, child trafficking, other killings. As the body count continues to add up, it's clear they have stumbled on more than they bargained for. Now they must figure out who is at the heart of this mayhem and stop them before more innocent lives are lost.

 Brennan's latest novel brims with complex characters and an ever-twisting plotline, a compelling thriller that delivers.

  EXCERPT

Prologue

Two months ago

Tucson, Arizona

 Billy Nixon had been waiting his whole life to have sex with Emma Perez. Okay, not all his life. Two and a half years. It just felt that way since he’d fallen in love with her the day they met in Microeconomics, on his first day of classes at the University of Arizona. Love at first sight is a cliché, and until that moment in time Billy didn’t believe in any of that bullshit. His parents were divorced, his older sister had been in and out of bad relationships since she was fifteen, and his friends slept around as if the apocalypse was upon them.

              But in the back of his mind, he remembered the story about how his grandparents met the day before his grandfather shipped off to the Korean War, how they wrote letters every week, and how three years later his grandfather came home and they married. They were married for fifty-six years before his grandfather died; his grandmother died three months later.

              That’s what Billy wanted. Without having to go to war.

              It took Emma two years before the same feeling clicked inside her. They’d been friends. They both dated other people (well, Billy pretended to date because he couldn’t in good conscience lead another girl on when he knew that he didn’t care about her like he cared about Emma). But it was three months ago, when Emma lost her ride home to Denver for the Christmas holidays and he found her crying in her dorm room, that he said, “I’ll drive you there,” even though he was a Tucson native and lived with his dad to save money.

              From then on, she looked at him differently. Like her eyes had been opened and she saw in him what he saw in her. From that point on, they were inseparable.

              The morning after they first made love, Billy knew there was no other girl, no other woman, with whom he wanted to spend the rest of his life. Call him a romantic, but Emma was it. He had started saving money for a ring. They were finishing up their third year of college, so had a year left, but that was okay. He did well in school and had a part-time job. He already had a job lined up for the summer in Phoenix that paid well, and he could live there cheaply with his sister—though the thought of spending two months with his emotional, self-absorbed sibling was a big negative. And the idea of leaving Emma for two months made him miserable. But if he did this, he’d have enough money, not only for a ring, but to get an apartment when they graduated. And—maybe—his job this summer would be a permanent thing when he was done with college next spring, which meant he’d have stability. Something he desperately wanted to provide for Emma.

              Emma rolled over in bed and sighed. He loved when his dad was out of town and he had the house to himself, since they had no privacy in Emma’s dorm. Billy kissed the top of her head. He thought she was still sleeping, or in that dreamy state right before you wake up. It wasn’t even dawn, but how could he go back to sleep with Emma Perez naked in his bed?

“Billy?” she said.

“Hmm?”

“Can I ask you a favor?”

“Anything.” “I need to go to Mount Wrightson today. The Patagonia side of the mountain.”

“Okay.”

An odd request, but Emma spent a lot of time these days in the Santa Rita Mountains and surrounding areas. She was a business and environmental sciences double major who worked part-time at the Arizona Resources and Environmental Agency—AREA, as they called it—the state environmental protection agency.

“For work, school or fun?” he said.

“Last week my Geology class went out to Mount Wrightson and we hiked partway down the Arizona Trail. I noticed several dead birds off the trail. My professor didn’t think it was anything, but it bothered me. So I talked to my boss, Frank, at work, and he said if my professor didn’t think it was unusual, then it wasn’t. But I couldn’t stop thinking about it, so went back a couple days ago on my own. One of the closed trails has been used recently. And I found more dead birds, more than a dozen.”

“Which means what?”

“I don’t know yet, but birds are especially vulnerable to contaminated water because of their small size and metabolism. Remember when I told you my boss got an anonymous letter two years ago? Signed A Concerned Citizen and postmarked from Patagonia? The letter writer claimed that several local people were being made sick and that the water supply was tainted. Frank tested the water supply himself after that, but he didn’t find anything abnormal. So he dismissed it. But no one has been able to explain why those people were sick.”

“And remember—there was no evidence that anyone was sick,” Billy said. “The letter was anonymous. It could have just been a disgruntled prankster. Didn’t Frank talk to the health center about the complaint? Didn’t he investigate the local copper refinery?”

“Yes,” she said and sighed in a way that made him feel like he was missing something. “Maybe two years ago it wasn’t real,” she said in a way that made Billy think she really didn’t believe that. “But now my gut tells me something’s going on, and I want to know what.”

“You told your boss about the dead birds. You said he was a good guy, right?”

“Yeah, but I think he still thinks I’m a tree hugger.”

“You certainly gave that impression when you first started there and questioned their entire record-keeping process and the way Frank had conducted that original investigation.”

“I’ve apologized a hundred times. I realize now how much goes into keeping accurate records, and that AREA uses one of the best systems in the country. I’ve learned so much from Frank. I really believe I can make a difference now, and be smart about it too. All I want is to give him facts, Billy. And the only way I can do that is if I go back up there.”

Billy didn’t have the same passion for the environment that Emma had, but he loved her commitment to nature and how she continued to learn and adapt to new and changing technologies and ideas.

“Whatever you want to do, I’m with you,” he said. He’d follow her through the Amazon jungle if she asked him to.

“It’s going to be a beautiful day,” she said, as if he needed encouragement to do anything for her. “I just want to check out the trails near where I found the second flock of birds. We can have a picnic, make a day out of it.”

“Good call, bribing me with food.”

She smiled. “I can bribe you with something else too.” Then she kissed him.

* * *

An hour later the sun was up and they stopped for breakfast in the tiny town of Sonoita, southeast of Tucson where Highways 82 and 83 intersected. Emma had been quiet the entire drive, taking notes while analyzing a topo map.

As they ate, Emma showed him the map and her notes. “The dead birds I found last week with the class were Mexican jays. The ones I found after that on my own were trogons. I’ve been studying both of their migration patterns. The jays have a wider range. The trogons are much more localized. It seems unlikely that they just dropped dead out of the sky for no reason. I’m thinking, logically, they might have been poisoned. I don’t see any large body of water near where I found them, but there’s a pond here that forms during the rainy season.” She pointed.

While Billy couldn’t read a topo map to save his life, he trusted her thinking.

“That pond, or this stream—” she pointed again “—are right under one of their migration routes. I’ve also highlighted some other seasonal streams, here and here.”

“That seems like a huge area. North and south of Eighty-Two? How can we cover all of that in one day? Where are the roads?”

“We can hike.”

He frowned. Hike, sure. But this looked like a three-day deal.

“Emma, maybe you should talk to your boss again, show him the map and tell him what you suspect.”

“But I haven’t found anything yet—just on the map!”

Tears sprouted to her eyes, and Billy panicked. Don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry. “Okay, what are we doing, then?”

“If you don’t want to help me, Billy, just say so.”

“I do, Emma. I just need to know the full plan, and I don’t understand your notes. I don’t even know where exactly I’m going.”

“This is the town of Patagonia, see?” She trailed her finger along one of the paths that went from Patagonia up the mountain. “And this is Mount Wrightson, to the north.”

Billy had hiked to the peak of Mount Wrightson once. He wasn’t into nature and hiking like Emma, but he liked being outdoors, so he took a conservation class that doubled as a science requirement. His idea of being outdoors was playing baseball or volleyball or riding his bike.

“Okay.”

“We need to hike halfway up Wrightson. I found a service road that I think we can use to get most of the way to the trailhead. Okay?”

“If you’re sure about this,” he said.

She frowned and looked back down at her map. He hated that he’d made her sad.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “It’s fine.”

“You don’t want to go.”

“I do. I just don’t want us to get lost.”

She smiled sweetly at him. “Stick with me and you won’t.”

That was the smile he needed. He took her hand, interlocked their fingers. “I trust you.”

“Good.” She gave him a quick kiss, and they left the café and got back on the road.

 Several hours later, Billy wasn’t as accommodating. They’d parked at the end of a dirt road near the trailhead halfway up the southeastern side of the mountain and been hiking through rough terrain ever since. The landscape was dotted with some trees and pines, but not as dense or pretty or green as on the top of the mountain. The land wasn’t dry—the wet winter and snow runoff had ensured that—so the area was hard to navigate, and the paths they were on weren’t maintained. Billy doubted they were trails at all.

The hiking had been fine up until lunch. At noon, they ate their picnic, which was a nice break, because then they had sex and relaxed in the middle of nature. It wasn’t quiet—they heard birds and a light breeze and the rustling of critters. A family of jackrabbits crossed only feet from them as they lay on the blanket Billy had brought. Afterward, Billy suggested they head back to the truck. He was tired, and they had already walked miles, which meant as many miles back to the truck.

But Emma didn’t want to leave. He was pretty sure she didn’t know exactly what she was looking for, but that she had this idea that if she walked long and far enough, she’d find evidence to support her theory that something nefarious had been happening out here to kill all those birds.

So Billy kept his mouth shut and followed her.

By four that afternoon, Billy was pretty sure Emma had gotten them lost. They had seemed to zigzag across the southern face of Mount Wrightson. He was tired, and even the birds had gone quiet, as if they were getting ready to settle in and nest for the night, even though sunset was still a few hours away.

He stopped next to a tree that was taller than most and that provided much-needed shade. It was only seventy-six degrees, but the sky was clear and the sun had been beating down on them all afternoon. He was glad he’d thought to bring sunscreen, otherwise they’d both be fried by now.

He dropped the large backpack he’d been carrying that contained their picnic stuff, blanket, water, first aid kit and emergency supplies. He knew enough about the desert not to go hiking without food and water to last at least twenty-four hours. Like if his truck didn’t start when they got back, they needed to be okay. So he had extra water—but he didn’t tell Emma that. It was for emergencies only.

“We’re down to our last water bottles,” he said. He’d paced himself so he had two left, whereas Emma had gone through all six of hers.

He handed her one of the two. “Drink.”

She sipped, handed it back to him. “Thirty more minutes, honey. See this?” She pointed to the damn map that he wanted to tear into pieces now, except without it he was positive they would be lost here forever. “That’s the large seasonal pond I was talking about. It’ll dry up before summer, according to the topo charts.”

How she could stay so cheerful when he was hot and tired and, frankly, bored, he didn’t know.

“How far?”

“Down this path, not more than two hundred yards. Three hundred, maybe.”

He looked at her. Implored her to let them start heading back.

“Why don’t you stay here and wait,” she said.

“You don’t mind?”

She smiled, walked over and kissed him. “Promise.”

Twenty minutes later she was back where Billy waited. She looked so sad and defeated. “I’m ready to go,” she said.

“We’ll come back next weekend, okay? We’ll bring a tent and food and camp overnight.”

She looked surprised at his suggestion, a smile on her face. “You mean that?”

“Absolutely.”

She threw her arms around him. “I love you, Billy Nixon.”

His heart nearly stopped. “I love you, too,” he said and held her. He wanted to freeze this moment, relive it every day of his life.

“We’re actually closer to your truck than you think—we made a circle. First we went north, then west, then south, now we’re going east again. When we get back to the main trail at the fork back there, we go left rather than right, and the truck is about half a mile up.”

He was impressed; he had underestimated her. Maybe they weren’t as lost as he thought; maybe he was the only one with a shitty sense of direction. But that was okay, because Emma loved him, and they were going to be together forever. He knew it in his heart and his head, and she’d always be there to navigate.

They drove down the mountain, the road rough at first, then it smoothed out as they got near town. They headed west on 82, deciding to drive the scenic route back to Tucson. Emma marked her map to highlight where they’d already walked, when suddenly she looked up. “Hey, can you get off here?”

“Have to pee again?”

“Ha ha. No. There’s several old roads that go south. Sonoita Creek, when it floods, cuts fast-flowing streams into the valley. We had a couple late storms this winter. I just want to check the area quickly—we’ll come back next weekend. But if I see anything that tells me the streams were running a few weeks ago, I want to come back here first. Okay? Please?”

Billy was tired, but Emma loved him, so he happily turned off the highway and followed her directions. They drove about a mile along a very rough unpaved road until they reached a narrow path. His truck couldn’t go down there—there were small cacti sprouting up all over the place, and the chances of him getting a flat increased exponentially.

Emma got out, and Billy reluctantly followed. She was excited. “See that grove of trees down there?”

He did. It looked more like overgrown brush, but it was greener than anything else around them.

“I’ll bet there’s still water. This is on the outer circle of where the birds could have flown from. I just want to check.”

“The path looks kinda steep and rocky. You sure about this?”

She kissed him. “I’m sure. Stay here, okay? I won’t be long.”

“Ten minutes.” “Fifteen.” She kissed him again, put her backpack on and headed down the path.

 He sat in the back of his truck and watched Emma navigate the downward slope. He doubted this “path” had been used anytime in the last few years. From his vantage point, he saw several darker areas, plants dense and green, and suspected that Emma was right—this valley would get water after big storms.

Emma was beautiful and smart. What wasn’t to love?

He watched until she disappeared from view into the brush.

He frowned. He should have gone with her. Was he just sulking because he was tired and hungry?

Predators were out here—coyotes, bobcats, javelinas. Javelinas could be downright mean even if you did nothing to provoke them. Not to mention that these mountains bordered the corridor for trafficking illegal immigrants. Billy had taken a criminal justice class his freshman year and they touched upon that topic. He didn’t want to encounter a two-legged predator any more than one on four legs.

What kind of man was he if he couldn’t suck it up and help the woman he loved?

So he grabbed his backpack and headed down the path Emma had taken. He was in pretty good shape, but this hike had wasted him. Emma must have been fitter than he was, because she’d barely slowed down all day. After this, they’d go to his place, shower—maybe he could convince Emma to take a shower with him—and then he’d take her out to dinner. After all, they had something to celebrate: the first time they said “I love you.” They’d go to El Charro, maybe. It was Billy’s favorite Mexican food in Tucson, not too expensive, great food. Take an Uber so they could have a couple of drinks.

He wished he were there right now. His stomach growled as he stumbled and then caught himself before he fell on his ass.

He was halfway down the hill when a scream pierced the mountainside. Billy ran the rest of the way down the narrow, rocky trail. “Emma!”

No answer.

He yelled louder for her. “Emma! Emma!”

He slipped when the trail made a sudden drop as it went steeply down to a small pond—the seasonal one that Emma must have been looking for. The beauty of the spot with its trees and boulders all around was striking in the desert, and for a split second he thought it was a mirage. Then all he could think about was that Emma had been bitten by a rattlesnake, or had fallen into the water, or had slipped and broken her leg.

But she didn’t respond to his repeated calls.

“Emma!”

He stood on the edge of the pond, frantically searching for her. Looking for wild animals, a bobcat that she may have surprised. A herd of javelinas that might have attacked her. Anything.

Movement to his right startled him, and he turned around quickly.

In the shade, he saw someone. He shouted, wondering if Emma was disorientated or had gone the wrong way. But whatever he thought he saw was now gone.

Then he saw her.

Emma’s body was half in, half out of the pond, a good hundred feet beyond him, obscured in part by an outcrop of large rocks on the water’s edge. He ran to her and dropped to his knees. His first thought was that she had slipped and hit her head. Some blood glistened on her scalp.

“Emma, where are you hurt? Emma?”

She didn’t respond. Then he saw the blood on a hand-sized rock on the edge of the pond. And he felt more blood on the back of her skull.

“No, no, no!”

He saw her chest rise and fall. She was alive, but unconscious. He pulled out his phone, but there was no signal. He had to get help, but he couldn’t leave her here.

Billy picked Emma up and, as quickly as he could, carried her up the steep hillside to his truck.

As he drove back to the main road, he called 911. An ambulance met him in the closest town, Patagonia.

But by then Emma was already dead.

 Excerpted from Tell No Lies by Allison Brennan, Copyright © 2021 by Allison Brennan. Published by MIRA Books.

BOOK INFORMATION

Tell No Lies : A Novel

Allison Brennan

On Sale Date: March 30, 2021

9780778331469

Hardcover

$27.99 USD

432 pages

Buy Links:

Bookshop.org: https://bookshop.org/books/tell-no-lies-9780778331469/9780778331469

Indie Bound: https://www.indiebound.org/book/9780778331469

Barnes & Noble: https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/tell-no-lies-allison-brennan/1136909250;jsessionid=BE5869D36ACCCEF44F21FF4A05BC5D62.prodny_store01-atgap04?ean=9780778331469

Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/exec/obidos/ASIN/0778331466/httpwwwalli0f-20

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Kobo: https://www.kobo.com/us/en/ebook/tell-no-lies-16

Google Play: https://play.google.com/store/books/details/Allison_Brennan_Tell_No_Lies?id=RHDeDwAAQBAJ

Ibooks: https://books.apple.com/us/book/tell-no-lies/id1509698872

About the author:

ALLISON BRENNAN is the New York Times and USA TODAY bestselling author of over thirty novels. She has been nominated for Best Paperback Original Thriller by International Thriller Writers and the Daphne du Maurier Award. A former consultant in the California State Legislature, Allison lives in Arizona with her husband, five kids and assorted pets.

 Social Links:

Author website: https://www.allisonbrennan.com/

Facebook: @AllisonBrennan

Twitter: @Allison_Brennan

Instagram: @abwrites

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/52527.Allison_Brennan

  Q&A with Allison Brennan

Q: How much research do you do before beginning to write a book? Do you go to locations, ride with police, go to see an autopsy, etc.

A: Research is one of my favorite parts of writing. Because I’ve been writing for more than a decade, I’ve been doing research for just as long. I’ve been to most locations I’ve written about, though sometimes long ago (and I rely on Google Earth, books, and friends to keep me up to date about changes.) I’ve gone on ride-alongs with law enforcement, I’ve been to the morgue twice and observed not only an autopsy, but have talked to technicians and toured the crypt.

I also went through the FBI Citizens Academy in 2008, when I was in the middle of writing my 8th book. After that, I had multiple agents to call upon for help with details; I toured Quantico twice, the national FBI Headquarters, interviewed both senior and brand new agents about their different experiences in the academy and on the job, and participated in numerous SWAT training drills as a “role player.” What does that mean? I’ve played the part of the bad guy, a hostage, and a victim based on the scenario they were training for. I’ve observed dozens of different scenarios as they drill them, including high-risk traffic stops. I once observed a live ammunition drill from the catwalk, which was both scary and exhilarating.

I recognize that I can’t put everything I learn into my books, and that because I write fiction sometimes reality is too slow and I need to speed things up (trust me, you don’t want to watch my characters doing paperwork!) But I try to write my books to be as realistic as possible.

  Q: What’s your favorite part of writing suspense?

A: Everything! I love suspense. I read it as a child (Trixie Belden, Nancy Drew, Agatha Christie, Stephen King) and I read it now. I love romantic suspense (I’m a sucker for happy endings); police procedurals; and race-against-time thrillers. When I’m writing, my absolute favorite part is when everything comes together near the end and I have that “AHA!” moment. It’s exhilarating and worth every struggle along the way.

I’d also have to say that suspense is part of every story. If there’s no suspense, it’s a boring character study. I want to have that physical reaction in my story -- the sense of impending doom and “OMG, how are they going to get out of this?” -- and if I get it while writing, my readers will feel it when reading.

  Q: From the books you’ve written or read, who has been your favorite villain and why?

A: The Man in Black, Randall Flagg, is one of the most compelling and scary villains I’ve read, created by the master Stephen King in THE STAND (though Flagg has also shown up in other books.) Favorite? Maybe not. But definitely the villain that stuck with me for the rest of my life. In my books, I’ve created a couple of villains who I’ve actually sympathized with (while condemning their crimes) because their backstories are so tragic -- such as in TEMPTING EVIL. My favorite villain to write was Elise Hansen Hunt who popped up in several books, including the recent COLD AS ICE. She is young, reckless, violent, and I never knew what she might do. I’ve written several serial killers, who are always scary because you never quite know what’s going to happen with them. For example, in the first Quinn & Costa book, the killer was so focused and determined I worried he would outwit my good guys.

Villains should be both believable and realistic, so sometimes the most compelling are those who you can almost sympathize with, or at least understand, even when you are horrified by their crimes.

  Q: What hobbies do you enjoy?

A: Reading (duh!), baseball (go Giants!), television (too many shows to list), hiking (except during the Arizona summer), shooting at the gun range (my daughter is a cop and great instructor), video games (with my boys -- at least that’s my excuse.) A little known fact about me … for years I used to make my own soap. It was fun, relaxing, and always made the house smell amazing.

  Q: Do you write under one name for all books across genres or do you have other AKA's?

A: Just me! Allison Brennan is my legal name. In fact, I once told my husband if he ever left, I was keeping the name. Ha.

Funny story -- I bought my website domain allisonbrennan.com right after I sold my first book. This was 2004. I wanted to make sure I had it when I had books to put up there. A year later I got an email from someone named Allison Brennan. She tried to buy the site but couldn’t -- she was also a writer (a journalist) and wanted to know how I picked the name and if she could buy it from me. Small world! (There’s also an Allison Brennan who is a Olympic diver, an Allison Brennan who is a gymnast, and an Allison Brennan who lived in my town -- we used the same pharmacy, the same vet, went to the same church, and both had sons named Luke. Yet we never met!)

  Q: Do you have pets?

A: Yes. Life just wouldn’t be as much fun without animals. I used to have chickens when we lived on a couple acres in California. I miss them--they were so much fun, and fresh chicken eggs are so much better than store bought. Now, we have two cats and a dog (a ten-year-old black lab). My son has a bearded dragon (lizard) who I adore as well. Who would have thought lizards could have so much personality? And we have a goldfish named Filet.