Mar. 26th, 2012

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Lifted from Alex Beecroft


Rules

1. Go to page 77 (or 7th) of your current ms
2. Go to line 7
3. Copy down the next 7 lines – sentences or paragraphs – and post them as they’re written. No cheating.
4. Tag 7 other authors. (I am not doing this – anyone who wants to do it can. Those who don’t want to don’t have to.)



I Knew Him (just for clarification, this isn’t an encounter between the couple with a relationship)

"You go to a local school?"

"I did. I came down last week. And no, I'm not going to Oxford, since you ask."

"I don't recall asking." The man was impossible, I rarely feel like taking a man by the shoulders and shaking him, (in anger at least!) but two minutes in Lawrence's company had that effect on me. Heaven knows I'd had years of putting up with unreasonableness, but Lawrence took not only the biscuit, but the barrel and all the cheese. "Sit down, at least," I said. "You are blocking my sun."

He hesitated, looked over towards the house, shuffled once or twice, which made me tempted to tell him not to bother. When he spoke, he still had an edge of defensiveness in his tone, but it was slightly metered, as if he'd finally realised how much of an arse he was being. "Not that I couldn't. I matriculated pretty damn well, and Margaret said she'd pay the fees if I didn't get a scholarship."

"But you decided against it."

For a moment the sulky look dropped away from his face and I wallowed in his beauty. His long face, the sweeping dark of his hair, this was not the face of a clerk or a draper. He pulled disconsolately at a patch of grass, uprooting it with a tearing sound. "Yes, well. It's not just the fees is it?"

"No. Look, I understand. I've seen scholarship men coming in—and I can tell you you've probably made the right decision."

erastes: (Default)

from “I Knew Him”

He turned the radiance of that brilliant smile around to Stevie. "Stevie, do you want to come?"

"Oh, God no," she said. "Don't get me involved in your excursions."

"Oh Stevie," Margaret said. "You really should. You don't get out half enough. And someone needs to keep them in check or the next thing we'll hear of them is being thrown into some Italian jail or worse."

She rolled her eyes. "Oh, all right. But only if I'm promised dinner at The Metropole. And I don't have to go and look at any horses, or stamp sods back in place."

“Divots,” I said with mock sternness. “The word is divots.”

“I know what the word is,” she said with a saccharine smile. Claude looked thunderous, but the exchange seemed to have passed Margaret by entirely.

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