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EXCERPT Deja Vu Lover, available now TWRP

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  • phoebebks@aol.com
    “And the car you were driving? Describe the dashboard. What about the hood? Was it a convertible, too?” “I can’t remember and it doesn’t
    Message 1 of 1 , Oct 24, 2008
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      “And the car you were driving? Describe the dashboard. What about
      the hood? Was it a convertible, too?”
      “I can’t remember and it doesn’t matter! What matters is that I
      killed us all, all of us, you, me, our friends! It was so real. What if I saw
      something that is going to happen?”
      “You’re describing the past, lovey. So whatever it is, it’s over,”
      he said.
      “Or we’re all on our way to a costume party. People renovate those
      old cars, make them look like new.” Damn, I felt the tears rising and I hated
      that, hated going out of control.
      He touched my cheek, must have felt tears, because he pulled me down
      into his arms and stroked my hair and kissed me. Then he piled pillows around
      me, building a wall of velvet and cordoroy, saying, “That’s your barricade
      against the world.”
      “Make the wall crenallated,” I laughed, gulping back tears. He made a
      few attempts at stacking cushions. They slid off and he restacked, finally
      arranging them around us until we sank down, giggling, in the center of the
      circle.
      His hands and mouth were as familiar to me as my own because sometimes,
      between other others, we did that, forgot we weren’t lovers, remembered that
      we did adore each other in our weird way. And I did not want to think about
      anything else.
      “Am I the consolation prize?” I whispered.
      He stopped kissing me, lifted his head. “Why would you think that?”
      “You just broke up, didn’t you?”
      “Oh.” He thought about that, then said, “Lovey, I want you because I
      want you, that’s all. Should I quit?”
      “You should,” I said, “but then I’d have to go out on a street corner
      and find somebody else.”
      He laughed and between kisses he said other things, probably that he
      loved me, probably that I ought to marry him. I didn’t pay any attention
      because I knew him too well and he didn’t mean a word of it.
      I did tell him, “I don’t believe a word you say.”
      And he mumbled, “That’s good, because I don’t remember what I said.”
      I said, “Then just shut up and concentrate, boyfriend.”
      He was warm and familiar and safe and kind and gentle and loving and
      passionate and finally mind-blowing good.
      Our barricade fell in on us unnoticed.



      - Phoebe Matthews
      http://phoebematthews.com
      "Tarbaby Trouble" BookStrand July 2008
      "Welcome to Mudflat, Baby" BookStrand September 2008
      "Deja Vu Lover" The Wild Rose Press October 2008



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