A normal person might have accepted this obvious gift from the universe.
In what remains one of the most awkward moments of my teenage years, I suggested that all three of us hold hands.
All three.
I still cringe thinking about it.
To this day, I have no idea what possessed me to say that. Panic, probably. My brain saw romance approaching and immediately pulled the emergency brake.
Needless to say, it did not have the smooth, swoony effect I was hoping for.
The older I get, the more I realize that those awkward moments are exactly why I write small-town romance.
Real crushes aren’t polished. They’re sweaty palms and nervous laughter. They’re saying the wrong thing at exactly the wrong moment.
They’re accidentally making a situation ten times more embarrassing because you’re trying so hard not to be embarrassed.
It’s those the memories that stick with us.
The sweet, quiet country boy from that truck ride may never know it, but pieces of him will probably live forever in my stories. Not exactly as he was, of course. Characters have a way of borrowing traits from a dozen different people before becoming someone entirely new.
The same goes for the friend sitting on the other side of me.
(Part 3 next week!)
Please tell me I’m not the only one with embarrassing and innocent memories! Please share!
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