It turned out that Grace was the last to discover that the spunky most popular guy at the youth camp was interested in her. “Why would he be interested in me?” she thought to herself. A few guys during her high school years had shown interest in her, but that was nothing out of the ordinary for the average high school girl. She held no false illusions that she was a beauty queen.
Maybe it was because she had a rich golden tan and was visiting Victoria from the envied sunshine state of Queensland. There was no doubt that Grace was fit and healthy as she had lived an active high school life on the school athletic and sports teams and on weekends when her dad would take her, her brothers, and cousins water skiing. Now she felt self-conscious as the other girls at camp whispered as they looked at her. It was awkward enough being the new kid in town, but now this unsolicited attention. Beverley Joy
Book Excerpt – The Wilted Rose Part 3 – The Wilted Rose and my poem – Attraction
With Ryan’s blue Cortina station wagon packed up with camping gear, Grace and her brothers headed southbound for Melbourne. They had never been outside of Queensland; travelling along the East Coast of Australia, the lush green hills and mountains that rolled through New South Wales and Victoria were so different to the dry, parched Queensland landscape she had grown up with.
Once in Melbourne, they travelled south of the city centre to the Mornington Peninsula, a string of village communities curled around the south-eastern flank of Port Phillip Bay. They continued to travel east until they reached their final destination, Phillip Island.
The youth campsite was similar to the camp they had stayed at every year on the Gold Coast. A solid brick mess hall, with rows of cabins on either side. That evening, Grace sat with her hut leader and the other girls from her cabin as they waited to join the line to collect their dinner. A boy with long blonde hair and bronzed skin sat at a table across the way; he was very handsome, and she loved his aura of rebellion. He looked at Grace, and she quickly looked away, her cheeks flushed with embarrassment. His table was called upon to collect their dinner, and Grace dared to look up again, seeing him as he passed by her table. He was close enough now that she could see that his eyes were piercing blue.
‘Hi,’ he smiled.
‘Hi,’ Grace murmured, sheepishly averting her eyes again.
To be continued…
Kate Kelsen Author © All Rights Reserved
BUY a wilted rose for Christmas (eBook)
Image by mohamed Hassan from Pixabay
Poem – Attraction
Ahh, the emotions that flood through your body at that first feeling of attraction. The excitement, the nervous feelings, the innocence, the ignorance. Does he like me? Will she accept me? Our emotions run away with us. Our heads spin with new types of thoughts and feeling never experienced before. It’s fun, it’s scary. It’s fulfilling, it’s needy. Beverley Joy.
PODCAST – Attraction
We walked and talked, laughed and smiled
We sat close, and our energy rose.
The tone of his voice rumbled through my body,
He’s tall and handsome, and he made me laugh.
I dived in boots and all, I talked too much, shared my soul
Now I’m just feeling vulnerable.
Now it’s awkward, uncomfortable
The truth is revealed, my fate is sealed
I bubble with nerves and excitement
Why is he showing interest in me?
I must confess my question is ‘Could he love somebody like me?’
More so, could I allow myself to let love run away with me?
I started out feeling strong and in control,
Now things look bleak, I’m weak at the knees.
I’m magnetized by his attention, ‘You’re a willing, captive audience
Look at me, look at me, I dance, I sing, I write poetry.’
I thought I’d ticked off the ‘responsible’ chart
But when I took the test I didn’t pass
I try hard to work, but I think of you
To be responsible is proving impossible.
Have I made a mistake? I don’t feel right in this place
My emotional stats read like the share market chart.
I feel like popcorn in a pot, I laugh, I cry, I pray a lot
My passion looms in my thoughts of you
Am I too carefree? Will he accept me?
I don’t feel comfortable in my own skin
It’s not so much could he love me
For I feel sure he could love me dear
It’s more can I let love flow free?
Well, I guess, only time will tell.
Beverley Joy of Simply Story Poetry 2010 © All rights Reserved
Image by mohamed Hassan from Pixabay
Leave a Reply