Welcome to Friday Fiction. Today guest author Pamela Thibodeaux provides an extract from her book, Choices. Please use the frog link below if you would like to join in and add your own story to share.
Camie’s heart throbbed with excitement as she waited to be escorted to her seat. She’d won a front-row seat and backstage passes to the biggest concert of the year. Country Music superstar Kip Allen had come home!
Everyone ranted and raved about the homegrown country boy who had made it big—three albums in five years, all gold. Camie remembered the shy, humble guy with rusty-gold hair and sea-green eyes who came to life when he had a guitar in his hands.
Her mind wandered back to high-school days and the many times he could be found on the outdoor patio where students congregated during lunch and break times, strumming his guitar and crooning a song, with girls gathered around him like bees to a hive.
Now look; the little amphitheatre which usually hosted a live radio broadcast of French music and humor was packed wall-to-wall with people who’d watched Kip grow up, and then make it to the Big Time.
He’d been on the road for more than a year during his Home is Where the Heart is tour—even had his parents flown out to meet him at Thanksgiving and Christmas, but his final performance was here, in his hometown of Eunice, Louisiana on Valentines Day. Perfect ending to the tour, Camie mused, if home truly is where his heart is.
The lights dimmed. She sat mesmerized as he appeared on stage and began to croon one love song after another, mixing in a few boot-stomping hits—Words she knew intimately.
Too soon, the concert was over, and security officers rushed her backstage. Waiting in the shadows apart from the throng of frenzied fans vying for autographs and pictures, she watched with concern as Kip raked his fingers through his hair. He heaved a tired sigh, insisted on no more autographs, and then headed for his dressing room.
Camie stepped forward, “Just one more autograph?” Kip turned at her soft request. His eyes lit with recognition, and he gave her an unreserved smile.
“Camie!” He enfolded her in a big hug. “What are you doing back here?”
A flush warmed her skin at the velvety-roughness of his voice. “I won the prize package from the radio station. You know: Front row seat, backstage pass, autographed C.D., etcetera, etcetera, etcetera.” Her heart raced at his nearness, her body trembled in his strong embrace. Feeling way too comfortable in his arms, she disentangled herself and took a step back.
He grinned. “Great. You look good.”
Her heart skipped a beat. “So do you.” Electricity sizzled between them.
Even in high school.
Theirs had been a subtle romance, underscored by sensual currents that hummed whenever their eyes met or they ventured into a conversation, both too shy to take the relationship further.
“What ever happened to us?” She wondered aloud, finding it difficult to speak past her heart hammering in her throat. “I still get all tongue-tied when you’re near.” He smiled, that lazy, heart-stopping grin that drove females from age five to fifty into a frenzy.
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