Introduction of THE FEAR LIST

Because this is release week, I feel okay about flooding my blog a bit 😉

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*language warning for you tender-eyed souls*

This is the scene where the fear list is brought up. Hailey has just puked on Kyle’s shoes, and he’s giving her a ride home…

“Your voice is nice,” Hailey said. “Low but not weird low. Smooth. It’s kind of hot. How come you don’t deejay?”

Kind of hot. Oh, God. Too many synapses firing and misfiring. Too many fantasies clogging up the works. Which was fucking idiotic: she’d just been kissing another dude.

I shrugged. “Not my thing.”

She slid her boots onto the dash and I gave her a sideways look. She didn’t even notice, just shimmied and wiggled into a more comfortable position.

“Deejaying’s not your thing or talking’s not your thing?”

I eyed her again. The green bra was sort of ridiculous. Over-the-top and too expected for a lead singer of a girl band. But Jesus, I kept looking at it, like she’d worn it for me. Which was stupid. And not that my opinion mattered, but the day in the studio, when she wasn’t all done up, she was hotter. Of course, she hadn’t been tongue-fucking some random bouncer then.

“Both,” I answered.

“You should have a list. And deejaying your own show should be the first thing on it. Well, that and maybe not freaking out every time someone says something to you. But that’s sort of too general for the list. Deejaying is a very specific fear.”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

She stomped her boot on the dash.

“Jesus, take it easy, will you?” Mom didn’t have the money to fix the car if Drunk Hailey broke it. I didn’t want to be a dick, but I was doing her a favor and the least she could do was not break the car.


“S’okay. So you were saying?”

“Oh my God, haven’t I told you about the list? Shit. Of course not. We don’t talk. Well, we’re talking now, but we’re just acquaintances. Only my close friends and the moms know about it.”

The list. Did I really want to know about the list?

“But maybe we’ll be good friends now because I puked on your shoes and shit like that brings people closer.”

I laughed, surprised. “Keep telling yourself that.”

She grinned at me. “I knew I could get you to laugh. So anyway, the list. It’s this thing I started last year. My moms wanted me to do it. Write down all the things I was afraid of and then start tackling them.”

“Huh.” Weird. Nothing my mom would ever suggest or, honestly, even care about. Her lists were very specific: buy toilet paper, take out trash, pick up my Xanax…

“Yeah, I know. It’s kinda dumb, but it’s sort of a rush when you actually do something on it.”

“What have you done?” I blurted.

“Well, nothing really great so far. But I sang on the radio. And tonight I had my first tongue kiss.”

“Yeah. I caught that. Must have tasted outstanding.”

She chuckled. “I thought you weren’t interested in me?”



Published by Jolene Perry

Hiker. Occasional Yogi. Equestrian. Couch potato. Music lover. Mediocre guitar player. Sailor. Tailor. Home body. Traveler. Enjoys suffering from being interested in everything. Co-founder and instructor at Waypoint Author Academy. Rep'd by Amy Bishop of Dystel, Goderich, and Bourret.

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