Stages by Lamar Neal - Book Tour
Contemporary Romance
Date Published: 03-04-2022
Hendrix and Victoria live two different lives. He is a senior in college, who lives with his terminally ill father, and has no idea what he wants to be when he "grows up." She is a young wife and mother in a failing marriage, her two sons being the only reasons she is still devoted to her household. But after both learn of family secrets, not only does the shape of their daily lives change forever, but their worlds collide, sparking an unlikely interest in one another. With their lives at a free fall, their relationship is the hope, inspiration, and strength to help them persevere through it all. Although love is getting them through the bad times, what will happen to their relationship when they realize they are still at different stages in life?
Excerpt
Almost every blanket and sheet in the house draped across the boy’s room. Two nights ago, I never, in a million years, imagined I would kiss someone other than Hershey. I sure as hell never imagined that the same man would have made us a blanket fort.
I stood
in the hall, outside the bedroom door, watching him crawl inside the fort with
his plate in hand. Inside, he reached for mine, and I reluctantly gave it to
him, and like that, he disappeared back into the fort.
“I
thought you were joking,” I said. “But you were serious. You really made
a fort.”
He stuck
his head out. “I never play about my blanket forts.” He extended his hand. “Come
on in. You’re letting all the cold air out.”
I took
his hand. Looking at the childish grin on his face and feeling how firm he held
my hand, I felt at ease. I crawled inside as I giggled like a little girl.
His head
barely cleared the bedsheets when he sat up straight.
“So,
we’re here,” I said, “inside a blanket fort.”
“It kinda
has a club vibe.”
“What? Dark
and cramp?”
To the
melodies of the most ratchet song—so ratchet I presumed it a parody—he scarfed
down his food. Every few bits, he hiccupped, holding his chest as the food went
down; I thought he was choking. Right after, he went right back to eating like
he hadn’t in days.
I thought
it was interesting that he didn’t touch his lasagna or salad until he finished
his breadstick. But it was just weird that he was eating his lasagna before his
salad. I covered my mouth to hide my laughter.
“Not you
too,” he said.
“What?”
“You know
exactly what I’m talking about.”
“What are
you talking about?”
He stared
with a deadpan look. “You find it weird I’m eating my salad last.”
I burst
into laughter. “Why are you eating your salad last? It’s not like the greens
are going to wash away the carbs. I can’t get over how weird you are.”
“I take
offense to that. I don’t think I am weird at all.”
“But
weird is good. You aren’t afraid to be yourself in a world that tells us who to
be.”
“Do you
consider yourself weird?”
“I’m sitting
inside this fort with you, aren’t I?”
“You are.
I can’t take that away from you. A lesser man would call you out for your
hesitation to join this beautiful palace of the highest thread count.”
“You got
me there.”
“Come on,
you gotta give me something. Show me how weird you are. Show me how spontaneous
you can be.”
He kept
insisting, with his head tilted to the side and a mischievous grin. After the
third or fourth time, he stopped, but the smirk stayed on his face while gazing
at me, hopelessly. His gaze was as vibrant and welcoming as the other
day.
My
only desire was to feel his lips against mine a second time. My heart slammed
intensely against my chest, throbbing harder by the second. My breath thinned.
Then he called me a name that he never used before: Vita.
“Hmm?” I
asked.
“Vita.”
My desire
to feel his lips turned into a longing after I kissed him. Our lips barely
stayed together before he moved his head back. His eyes stayed locked onto me,
going from wanting me to confusion. I kissed him again, still without force to
our kiss; our lips rested upon one another’s. I moved my head back, and he came
closer, gently running his bottom lip across mine. No longer restraining
ourselves, we kissed with passion, desire, and lust. I held his face, and he
firmly grabbed my thighs.
Time
didn’t exist in the moment.
He
stopped kissing. I took a deep breath that smelt like sauce, moved my face
closer to his so I could feel the warmth of his breath on my lips. I opened my
eyes. He kept his eyes closed, and just when I thought the moment was over, he moved
his tongue into my mouth. Like our hands, our tongues couldn’t refrain from
touching each other.
When we
finally stopped kissing, we kept our lips inches apart.
“Vita?” I
asked, breathing heavily.
“Vita.”
“Where
did you get that from?”
“There’s
a Playstation Vita on the dresser. I always thought the name was cute, so I
said to myself, ‘Hi self. Victoria is cute. The name is cute. Why not give the
cute name to the cute girl?”
“You’re
such a weirdo.”
“From
what I heard, being a dork is a good thing.”
I
caressed his cheek. “It is.”
“Oh, by
the way, I meant to say ‘beautiful.’ You aren’t cute. You’re beautiful.”
About the Author
Lamar Neal is an author of three poetry collections and one novel. When he’s not writing, you will most likely find him at home, playing video games, online shopping, or trying to decide his next hairstyle.
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