Sally Bosco

Author of Dark Fiction

Excerpt from Double Crush

Double_Crush_5 inHere is an excerpt from DOUBLE CRUSH by Sally Bosco:

“Mia! You startled me.” All I can think of is getting her to a different street so Evan doesn’t see us together.

“Your dad can wait for a little while, can’t he?”

“Um…yeah, I guess so.” I pull on her arm. “Let’s go over one street.”

She pulls in the opposite direction. “Let’s go to my house.”

Her house is in the direct path Evan will take to my house. “Let’s go a different way.”

“Why?” Stubborn now, she pulls me back in the other direction.

“There’s something on the next street I want to show you.”

“Okay then.” She follows me.

My heart is beating like a cappuccino machine. I don’t know why I’m so afraid of Evan seeing us together. What would that mean, anyway? That Mia had followed me home because she needed to talk? Evan is pretty perceptive, and he might guess the truth. And I’d blow my chance at having a boyfriend for school in the fall. But what am I saying? I love Mia.

“Come on, let’s go to the cemetery,” I suggest.

“What? The cemetery? Why?”

“It’s kind of spooky and fun. There are some beautiful sculptures in there.”

She shrugs. “Okay, I guess.”

The Wildwood Cemetery is surrounded by a black wrought iron fence with little spikes on top. It’s waist high and not meant to keep anybody out. I find the gate, and it opens easily. “Wow! We’re in.”

“Yeah. Cool.” Mia looks a little apprehensive. “Is it illegal to go into a cemetery at night? I don’t want to get arrested.”

“No. The worst that would happen is that they’d ask us to leave.” I hope I’m right.

“Okay. I feel better about it.”

“All we have to worry about now are the ghosts,” I kid.

She gives me a sideways look.

We enter through the gate, and the moonlight throws creepy shadows along the tombstones. The scent of moss and jasmine drifts on the night breeze. She presses in toward me to get as far away as possible from the grave markers.

“Some of these are really lovely. Look at this angel that’s overlooking some kind of family crypt.” I point out an ornate sculpture of angel with stone wings.

“Yeah, creepy though.” She rubs her bare arms.

“Let’s sit on this bench,” I suggest. There’s a concrete bench that has little roses carved into the sides, and it’s overlooking a small garden. It’s hard to tell in the dark, but the flowers look like yellow marigolds and pink petunias.

Mia sits. She’s in a short skirt, so she winces a little at the cold stone and places her hands beneath her thighs. “It is very peaceful here,” she says.

“Yes.” It’s so quiet, I can hear her breathing, which is a little more rapid than it should be. She must have warmed up, because she takes her hands out from under her thighs and places them in her lap, palms up.

Neither of us says anything, but she reaches toward my thigh with her palm still upturned, then gradually flips it over until settles it onto my lap.

I jump a little, more out of surprise than anything, and she pulls away.

I grasp her hand and bring it back toward me. “No, I didn’t mean to do that. It’s just that I…I don’t know. This is…different for me.”

“Me, too,” she says, squeezing my hand. Then she leans forward and gives me a kiss. It’s not an “acting” kiss; it’s a real kiss with real feeling.

Her mouth is so soft and so sweet, I could get totally lost in it. Her hand reaches for my shoulder and pulls me toward her. My heartbeat speeds up and I feel myself get totally carried away. The softness of her skin is so foreign to me. That is, it isn’t foreign because it’s just like my own. It’s foreign in that I’ve only felt a boy’s kiss before. This is so soft and sweet, and I like it so much.

Neither of us seems to fancy talking much. We drop down to the grassy ground by mutual consent. She gets on top of me, and I think I’ve never been happier in my whole life. We kiss like that for a long time, and I reach this peak of excitement.

Then we hear a noise. “What was that?” she whispers.

“Shhhh. Maybe it’s a guard.”

“Maybe it’s a ghost,” she says, and we giggle.

We both pause holding our breaths.

“Who’s there?” It’s a man’s voice, and his flashlight shines on us like a spotlight. “What are you doing here?”

My heart is hammering so hard I think I’m going to pass out, and I squeeze Mia’s hand. I hope hope hope he’s not a maniacal killer.

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