I don’t know about you, but the world seems to be getting pretty (insert your favorite colorful word here) intense. While I like to stay informed, I also like to laugh to deal with stress. And, I need some chuckles these days.
Today, the wonderful Hildred Billings is here to help us laugh with an embarrassing story. Also, Hildred is giving away 1 ecopy of The One that Ran Away. Below the guest post, you’ll find more details about the giveaway.
Take it away, Hildred.
If there’s one thing I’m not good at, it’s keeping my embarrassments to myself. As soon as I’ve been emotionally scarred in public or private, I’ve got to tell the whole world. Yeah. It’s a problem. Gimme sympathy! Gimme commiseration! Gimme a laugh so I know we can laugh about it! Yup. That’s me.
Which explains why I had the burning need to write a whole book about my embarrassments with this girl I seriously crushed on in college. My book, The One That Ran Away, is based on a few years’ worth of LiveJournal (did I just blow your mind?) entries from appx. ten years ago. While that book veers off into Pure Fiction territory about halfway through, there are a number of scenes that honest to GOD happened in real life. Such as…
The thong scene.
A bit of background: this was no ordinary girl. This girl was the stuff of young lesbian fantasies. The kind who struck my heart with one look and proceeded to own my soul for the next two or three years. I won’t tell you her exact appearance, since I remain mortified to this day that she will discover this and go, “I know that girl wasn’t right in the head!” I’ve handled a lot of embarrassment in my life, but that would end me.
All you need to know is that she was gorgeous. She was cool. She was effortlessly beautiful whether she was wearing a club dress or a hoodie and jeans. Think of a woman you’ve known whose mere presence made you cry because she was so stupidly awesome. Honey, you didn’t need to know her name, her political affiliation, or even if she was married. All you knew was that she just defined a pivotal moment of your life. Oh, and she barely knows you exist. Of course.
This was that girl. My friends and I called her Hot Chick.
Picture it: the wide, open basement of a college dorm, with only a pool table and a TV to keep you company while you wait for your clothes to be done in the creepy basement laundry room. I don’t remember the day of the week, but I know it was busy as heck. The unwritten rule was that you could empty people’s finished laundry as long as you were respectful about it – leaving it on the floor? No. Very uncivilized. Piling it on top of the machine, taking care that precious cargo like underwear was on top? Yes. Good. Welcome to college.
After my washer finished with my clothes, I faced the obnoxious chore of picking a dryer to empty. Because, of course, they were all full. I picked the one full of women’s clothing because, ew, who the hell wants to touch a college dude’s briefs?
So there I was, gingerly fishing out tube tops, jeans, PJs and… underwear. You try not to think about it. So what if you’re handling some woman’s delicate, lacy thongs? Slap ‘em on top of those jeans and university T-shirts. S’all good, right?
Then, I hear it.
“Oh, hey, that’s mine.”
Now picture it: me, with a fistful of thongs, slowly turning around and beholding H E R.
The girl. The legend. The fantasy. The Hot Chick.
“I… I am so sorry.” Bear with me. I don’t remember EXACTLY what I said, but I definitely remember how it kinda-sorta went. Because it’s embedded into my brain like a season finale cliffhanger from a favorite TV show.
“No worries.” She looked at me, then her (clean! They were clean, thank you!) thongs in my hand. “I can take those so you can finish your laundry.”
Y’all, I never got a date with that girl. I sure as hell never kissed her or slept with her, no matter what the aforementioned novel tries to tell you.
But, by God, I once had a fistful of her thongs in my hand, and I will treasure that moment forever. When I’m not blushing like a schoolgirl at the memory, anyway.
by Hildred Billings
Ten years ago, Jess Mills crossed paths with Shannon Parker, the most beautiful girl at their liberal arts college. But what Jess assumed nothing more than a crush on a straight girl soon turned into the night of her dreams senior year.
Then? Nothing. Shannon was gone before graduation.
Shannon bumps into Jess shortly after moving to Portland, a place her ex-boyfriend decided to call home. Both single, and both reeling from post-college life, Shannon realizes that it’s no mere coincidence she’s once again encountered the girl who defined her co-ed years.
MEET THE AUTHOR
Hildred writes contemporary romance and fantasy, all with a LGBT twist. Her solo romance works bounce between settings, including the USA and Japan, her two homes.
With Cynthia Dane, she writes contemporary billionaire romance starring lesbian and bisexual women. Her favorite themes are identity, aging, culture shock, and what happens after all is “said and done.” Oh, and lots of heavy lovemaking.
Her permanent residence is in Oregon, although her heart and mind are always wandering back to Japan.
CONNECT WITH HILDRED BILLINGS
Thanks so much for stopping by today.