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when she touches another person or anything that belongs to them — from clothes
to textbooks to cell phones — she sees a vision of their emotions. She can read
a person’s fears and anxieties, their secrets and loves … and what they have
yet to learn about calculus. This is helpful for her work as a math tutor, but
it means she can never get close to people. Eva avoids touching anyone and
everyone. People think it’s because she’s a clean freak — with the emphasis on
freak — but it’s all she can do to protect herself from other people’s issues.
much emotional trauma that she falls to the floor. Eva is instantly drawn to
Zenn, a handsome and soulful artist who also has a troubled home life, and her
feelings only grow when she realizes that she can touch Zenn’s skin without
having visions. But when she discovers the history that links them, the truth
threatens to tear the two apart.
Excerpt:While he waits for his coffee, I snuggle deeper into the couch, hoping he
won’t notice me. The only thing worse than filling out college applications the
night of the homecoming dance is your crush seeing you fill out college
applications the night of the homecoming dance. I guess it should make me feel
better that he’s not at the dance, either, but it doesn’t. When guys don’t go
to homecoming it seems like a conscious choice. When girls don’t go, it just
seems like they didn’t get asked.….“Tall black drip!” the barista calls out, like she’s calling out his name
and not the drink. Zenn is tall and dark, but there is nothing drippy about
him. He is most definitely non-drippy, whatever that means. He takes his coffee
and I think I am home free until he steps away from the counter.Crap. He sees me. I am equal parts mortified and thrilled.He raises his cup in a silent greeting and comes a few steps closer. He
opens the lid and I try not to stare at his mouth as he blows on his coffee to
cool it.“Hey, Zenn.” My voice sounds goofy in my own ears. Too loud in this
small, cozy space.He takes a tentative sip from his cup. Straight black coffee, no cream,
no sugar, no chocolate syrup. What a badass.“No homecoming for you either?” he asks.I close my laptop and press my hands against the warm surface. I shrug.
“I’m not much of a dancer.”Zenn nods in agreement. “Yeah. Me neither.”He comes even closer and sits down on the arm of the sofa across from me.
His knees are spread wide, his forearms resting on his inner thighs, his
hypnotizing hands holding his coffee in the triangle between his legs. He looks
so comfortable, so at ease in his own skin. How does one get that way? You
wouldn’t think it would be hard – I mean, we’re born in our skin. It should be
pretty comfortable by the time you hit seventeen, eighteen. But for me … not so
So my name alone should give you a clue that I graduated from high school when bangs were big and clothes were baggy. I went to Northwestern University
and majored in journalism even though I had no desire to be a journalist. I’ve been married to a great guy for a whole drinking-aged person’s life. I’ve got two amazing and yet very different (and very tall) teenage kids. I like crappy food, pinning inspirational quotes on Pinterest, have a tendency to start paragraphs with “anyway”, and I wish I were funnier. I would love to
be one of those really, REALLY funny bloggers (like Insane in the Mom-Brain) that makes you pee yourself a little bit. I am only moderately funny. I admit that. It’s one of my great sadnesses in life.
I started writing fiction when I was 10, but tried to be practical with the
whole journalism thing. Didn’t take. Shortly after college, the fiction-writing
desire reared its non-practical head and I’ve been writing ever since.Anyway, I’m probably just like you. We’d probably be friends if we met in real
life. (Well, let’s be honest. It’s likely that only my friends are actually reading
this blog, so we probably ARE friends in real life.) But whether we are friends
in real life, or just virtual friends through cyberspace, I hope you will enjoy
your time here.
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