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My hook is from Devon Ruthin and a Vampire in Love,
Bliss took up her reading. It was midnight before she stirred again. The book had become hard to put down now. The heroine was in love with two men. There were adventures with time travel, and strange happenings offset by the love shared amongst the main characters.
Bliss wanted to picture the two love interests of the heroine, but she couldn’t, even though their descriptions were detailed and enticing. She had never met real men who approached the level of these characters in looks, or behavior. People in the public eye, movie stars, and such, she could not think of any that she found attractive enough to picture as she read the book.
These characters were special for Bliss. She felt desperation as she finally showered and got into bed. She wanted to have something happen in her life that would lift her from the solitary existence that had befallen her.
Trying to sleep, she imagined being with one of the characters. He would hold her close and whisper against her lips, the way she had read he did with the girl in the book. He would fall in love with Bliss and they would walk in the bluebell wood, his arm around her, talking about the adventure they had just shared together.
Bliss sighed; she was not able to picture this properly. She could not believe any more that she would meet someone who would love her. It had been so long since she had been asked out, or approached at all by a man. Well four years actually, she thought, counting back, and finding it closer to five years since she had a relationship.
She had been nineteen. She had met him at a party, a slim hipped young man, dressed in black, his hair unfashionably long, his green eyes inviting her to fall in love, which she had.
It had been eight months of pure pleasure. She had felt lovely in his gaze, sexy in the warmth of his arms, invincible as they did everything together, always inseparable.
What had happened she thought, what had really happened? He had not let her down easily. He had simply dropped her, one day there, the next gone with a group of friends to Australia for a year. Maybe for good the letter had said. It had shaken her to the core; she could not believe he had done it. Bliss had rung him at once. The letter was pushed through her door by hand in the night so that she expected him to be somewhere she could contact him. His cell phone was off. She had rung his home, where his mother had said he had already left, that the plane taking him away had been at five in the morning. Maybe Bliss could email, because he would check that on his stopover in Singapore. His mother had sounded sympathetic as she told Bliss this and it had made Bliss cry.
Bliss remembered the email she had sent him, and how it had been answered. He had written back, ‘please accept that we are over. I will remember you because we had fun together, but I will not reply to any other correspondence’. That had hurt Bliss more than she could describe to her Dad, her sister, and any friend who would listen to her sad tale.
Bliss hugged herself right then as she shrank in her bed remembering this awful time, and then she lay straight again staring into the darkness of her room. It was close to one-thirty in the morning and she sighed noticing this on the big face of the digital clock on her bedside table. How was it possible that she had met no one else, that not one guy had asked her out in four years? She knew she would be tired the next day when it was time to get up for work, and the more she tried to sleep, the more worried she became about not being able to cope the next day. This job had stripped her of her natural resilience, and the vitality she could have enjoyed. She felt old, and then trying to stop this dive into melancholy she told herself twenty-four was not even remotely old.Sometime between two-thirty and three in the morning, Bliss fell asleep.
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