Lemon Seeds and Other Sprouts

Summary: “To plant a garden is to believe in tomorrow.” — Audrey Hepburn


Disclaimer: Stephenie Meyer owns Twilight. I’m here having fun.

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A/N: I wrote this back in March for The Lemonade Stand’s Flash Fic Friday on their blog. This was my first attempt at participating in Flash Fic Friday, and I’m using it to play around with new ideas that could possibly be turned into a multi-chapter fic. So, I would love your feedback. The “chapters”—some from Flash Fic Friday, some not—I will be posting here do not build on one another but stand alone, as I consider which ideas to pursue and expand. 

This is me writing in the short period of time of a few hours on a Friday, without pre-readers, and my words are completely un-beta’d. While I was nervous about “flying alone” for these prompts, I’m feeling more comfortable with each one and finding it to be a wonderful tool for learning to write more concisely. 

If you aren’t familiar with Flash Fic Fridays, here’s what happens. A picture/gif prompt and maybe a sentence to include is posted early in the day on TLS’s blog on a Friday, then writers are asked to create anything (dirty, sweet, angst, funny, etc.) using 100-300 words. Writers post their creations in the comment section where readers can read and comment.

If you are a writer or would like to try writing, I can not encourage you enough to at least subscribe to The Lemonade Stand’s blog with your email address. You will receive a notice for when a prompt posts that might interest you. If you are a reader, you should consider signing up, so you’ll know when a Flash Fic Friday is happening, and you don’t miss out on reading words from many of your favorite writers.

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The Lemonade Stand’s Flash Fic Friday, 3/27/2020

Prompt gif: (My interpretation) A man’s hand rubbing the bare inner thigh of a woman sitting at an outdoor wrought iron table while possibly wearing his white dress shirt, as we can see its open shirt tails resting high on her thighs.

Words to include: “He can’t know about us.”

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Distance. It’s what I’ve tried to put between us ever since he showed up in my gym looking for a trainer. I know his type—too willing to make a name for himself, oozing confidence, and no idea who I am, which is dangerous for both of us. I have no doubt he needs money. They all do. 

I should have known better, but I gave him three minutes in my ring and wasn’t surprised by his reaction when he saw his opponent was Rose at my choosing. One of my cardinal rules in life—never underestimate anyone. Ever. That’s his mistake, not mine. He misjudged Rose and by extension me. I sent him to Jake’s with his tail tucked between his legs, but my gut told me that wouldn’t be the last I would see of him.

My eyes shift from my view of The Strip to where he’s sprawled naked across my bed. While I sip my morning coffee, I can’t resist this view either—muscles chiseled through hours of sweat and determination. Easing open the glass door, I slip outside, sitting at the table and chairs on the balcony as I contemplate where to go from here. 

Wrapped in his white button down and surrounded by his intoxicating scent, my mind flashes to the early morning hours I spent pressed against the windows of my suite. His never-ending stamina and eager lips leaving no curve or crevice untouched.

“Good morning.” His gravelly voice startles me as I missed the opening of the door.

“Hey, morning.”

He bends kissing my lips, and his hand brushes along my bare inner thigh.

My head falls backward against the cushion and the truth spills in a rush from my lips. “He can’t know about us.”

“Who? Your father?”

“No, my husband.”

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A/N: While I hear Bella’s voice in my head for this short excerpt, I picture Edward as an aspiring fighter/boxer. (Note: inspiration photos are from the 2020 RP/Dior Homme: I’m Your Man ad campaign where he’s throwing punches.) She’s living in her own hotel suite set in Las Vegas which could make her the wife of a casino owner possibly? Or maybe running illegal underground matches. I suspect this Bella is older than Edward, but maybe stuck in a marriage of convenience with… thoughts?