The other day on my Willow Aster FB page, I reached 300 likes, so I posted a teaser from True Love Story. If you missed that, here you go! xo The waitress comes with our food, and I promise, she practically lays her entire chest on Ian as she sets my food down. He looks at her and smiles. “Well, hello,” he says. She stands up and brazenly tucks her number in his pocket … the pocket in his jeans, no less. “Okay … thanks?” He looks back at me and raises his eyebrows. “That happen often?” I ask. “It happens,” he shrugs. “Ah, so pretty much old hat, then.” I feel indescribably angry and sad that I have no right to this emotion when it comes to Ian Sterling. He pulls the number out of his pocket and hands it to me. “If you’d put your number on this paper, it would be worth something,” he says quietly. “Are you really hitting on me with my boyfriend sitting right here?” I am both proud and appalled by his audacity. Scratch that, I am loving his audacity. I’m a horrible person. Let’s not even try to sugarcoat it. He looks over at Michael, who has my hand, but is laughing at something Jeff has said. “Jeff’s keeping him occupied. He’s good that way.” He leans in closer and gets right in my face. “Your boyfriend doesn’t seem very attentive,” he whispers. “Oh, he’s attentive,” I whisper back. “Well, I guess if you like them like that.” “Don’t you worry about what I like.” “Can’t promise you that.” “Why not?” “Well, look at you. I already want to steal you.” With these last two words, his nose bumps mine and for a moment, I think he is actually going to kiss me. My stomach takes a nose dive into my feet. I’m pretty sure I turn magenta. Wanton Waitress has to ruin the moment by checking to see if everyone is okay. I haven’t eaten a single bite. I stare her down as she returns for more of Ian. She doesn’t notice me. She does, however, make sure to put on a show as she walks to another table. If there was a pole in the vicinity, she would be Worrr-king It right now. “So you changed the subject before … what do you like to do, Sparrow?” “Uh, well, lots of things,” my voice sounds shaky and I want to raise my fist to the heavens and force God to honor our agreement, however one-sided it might have been. Ian smiles. “Lots … of what?” “Books,” I say firmly. “I’m crazy about books.” He laughs. “Okay. That’s cool.” “I like to read them and write them,” I say shyly. Hello, my name is Sparrow and I am a nerd. He lifts his eyebrows, and his eyes land on my mouth. “God, everything you say is hot.” He runs his hands through his hair, making it go another equally fabulous direction. I wish I could do that. “So let me get this straight … you look like this” — he waves his hand up and down in my direction — “and you’re a book-smart, writer goddess too?” He inches closer to my face again, and I am positive he can hear my heart pounding. “Do you have glasses and wear your hair up with a pencil, too? That would be too…” He closes his eyes for a second and when he opens them, his pupils are huge swimming pools. “I don’t know if I could even take it.” He shakes his head. I laugh hard then, coming far too close to snorting for my comfort. Keep it together, Fisher.
