Six (ish) Sentence Sunday
Mar 22, 2020
Almost Like Being in Love has officially passed 50K words this weekend. Chapter 11 will be posted as soon as I'm done with final edits. As part of my writing process, I often write several versions of scenes to see if they'll work, and then inevitably cut the ones that don't match the final narrative. This portion was officially marked as discarded about a month ago and I thought you might enjoy a deleted scene that didn't survive the cutting room.
<3
Greg’s hands trembled as he cradled his phone. He jittered his knee up and down a bit, staring at the business card on his coffee table, lower lip caught between his teeth. A phone number written in elegant script on the back. The fancy numbers with the curly bits on the end. Calligraphy, that’s what it’s called, he thought. Just a few numbers - shouldn’t be so intimidating. But this was all or nothing. Yes or no. In a few minutes, he’d know. Know whether he was good enough, smart enough, sexy enough. Just...enough.
Get it together, he scolded himself sternly. You’re a grown man, not a spotty teenager with his first crush. But. His first crush hadn’t been anything like Mycroft. And he felt like a grubby teen, just now.
He took a deep breath, typed in the numbers, pressed the call button, and then immediately activated his speakerphone function. The conversation was too large to fit privately in his ear like that. He needed room for it to stretch, for the ceiling to hear it so he could breathe.
The ringtone sounded just once, then connected.
“Good Afternoon, Detective Inspector.” Not Mycroft - A woman’s voice.
“I… hello?” Greg said, startled, and unprepared to talk to not-Mycroft. “Have I got the wrong number,” he asked.
“No, Detective. Mr Holmes is unavailable right now. May I take a message?”
Christ, no. The thought made him queasy. He didn’t want an audience while he was trying to ask a bloke on a date.
“Oh, no, that’s alright,” he deflected. “I’ll...call back another time,” he finished with a limp in his voice.
“Shall I have Mr. Holmes return your call at a more convenient time?” she offered. Her tone was professional, but there seemed to be an eagerness to it that Greg couldn’t quite put a finger on.
“Yes, that’d be alright. He can...I’m free the rest of the day.” Way to sound like a loser, he chastised himself. Couldn’t make it sound like you’ve got interesting things to do? A social life. Errands to run. Anything would be better than sounding as if you’re just sitting round in your flat in your underpants watching telly all day. Even if it was mostly true.
“There’s an opening in his schedule at 4:00,” she offered kindly. “I’ll let him know you’ve called.” The woman had a sympathetic voice, and he was grateful she had offered him something specific.
They finished exchanging the usual pleasantries and rang off. Now. Just three hours to fill until. Until. And then what? He’d either be seeing Mycroft again, or readjusting his plans for next weekend until it contained something of note. Anything to fill the gap it would leave...
