Sunday Snippet: Right Feels Wrong

Man. What a crazy-busy week. Our weather is still being contrary. Warm and spring-like a couple of days followed by another blast of winter. My sinuses are not thrilled.

I didn't get through a full round of television this week. I had way too many irons in the fire and needed to focus. My brain doesn't want to cooperate at all. Thankfully, I have three current projects, which lets me bounce around when I can't concentrate on one specific thing.

I did get a holiday episode of My Life Is Murder watched and thoroughly enjoyed it. It's interesting to see how the southern hemisphere celebrates the holiday in the middle of their summer.

I tried to watch the behind-the-scenes Agatha Raisin, but it wouldn't play. That's two seasons now that I can't access the specials. I'm kind of bummed about that.

I started the new season of Midsomer Murders and loved the episode. I'm excited to dive back into this series. It's fun to see an older Betty.

Silent Witness continues to be very intriguing. I really want to know who's behind the curtain pulling the strings.

Caught another Death in Paradise and remembered some of this one. Mainly the beginning and the end. Not sure what happened to the middle part and why I missed it the first time around but it's nice to finally see the whole episode.

Enjoyed an episode of Elementary. I like the slow progression of trust being built with Sherlock and Watson. I have a sneaking suspicion that Sherlock now knows Joan isn't being paid by his father anymore. I'll be interested to see how that plays out.

That's as far as I made it for viewing this week and that's it for the life update. Tonight's post is from Right Feels Wrong, a novella that got a start with a writing community prompt.

Here's the miniblurb:

A college RA, Clover Miller, busts an underage drinker who ends up on academic probation and in danger of losing his scholarship. When the student's brother, Lennox Bailey, comes to visit, he's caught between being a loyal sibling and an instant attraction to the RA that reported on his brother.

And a snippety peek…

Clover Miller carried her coffee in one hand and her laptop in the other. "I gotta crash or I'll be shit for my first class." Taking the shortcut through the lobby of Finney Hall, she bit back a yawn.

Halfway through the expansive space, a commotion by the main door drew Clover's attention. Instead of turning toward the elevator to the fourth floor, she weaved around the brick pillar and stopped short. A freshman kicked at the glass doors, cursing at them.

Clover narrowed her gaze, trying to remember his name. Something Bailey. Why the hell would he be rattling the doors? She moved closer and caught the ID badge between his teeth and the way he swayed back and forth on his feet.

Shit. Drunk lower classman. And, as a resident advisor, she couldn't ignore him.

Heaving a sigh, she set her coffee on a table and put the laptop beside it. Goodbye sleep. Hello responsibility.

Clover approached the beefy student with caution. "Hey, uh, what's going on? Pretty sure the doors didn't do anything to warrant the abuse you're dishing out." She did a quick assessment, hoping the Bailey kid—Wyatt, she finally remembered—would be a happy drunk instead of a mean one.

Wyatt angled his head around. "I can't get into the dorm. The stupid scan thing isn't on the wall where it should be." He talked with the card still between his teeth and his words slurred around the plastic.

Clover shook her head. "My dude, you're already in the dorm." She gently pried his hand from the door handle and slowly turned him away from the glass. "What floor are you on?" She didn't have the roster memorized yet.

Wyatt blinked and tugged away from her. "Not your dude and I…" He stopped, turned a little green, and swallowed hard. "I can find my way. Don't need no help." Putting one foot forward, he swayed again.

Clover needed to get him out of the lobby. Technically, she should report any underage drinking, but the unwritten rule of keeping alcohol consumption out of sight and under control usually worked for everyone. At least they had the empty lobby to their advantage. But if she couldn't get him to his room quickly, someone would no doubt see him, and she'd have to turn him in.

She put her hand on his bicep. "Wyatt, we gotta get you to your room. And you need to stop acting like you're drunk."

He gave a rude snort. "Not acting, Miss … whoever you are. Am totally drunk right now." He swayed close to her. "Shhhh. Don't tell the RAs. They're a buncha bitch-ass narcs." Pressing his forefinger to his lips he made an exaggerated shushing sound.

Clover huffed out a breath. "Yeah, bro, I know. I'm one of 'em." She started steering him toward the elevator. "Here's the thing, though. I'm actually trying to keep your ass out of trouble, so maybe less with the broadcasting and more with the shutting the fuck up." She scooped her laptop off the table and kept directing Wyatt toward the elevator.

He blinked and squinted. "You're one of the babysitters?" Jerking hard away from her, he tried to make an about face.

But he'd one or a dozen too many and instead of turning in the opposite direction, he spun a full three-sixty, wobbled back and forth, then went crashing to the ground…

And he took Clover with him, smacking his head into hers on the way down.

Her laptop dug into her ribs and a searing pain jolted from her wrist to her collarbone. "Shit. That hurt." Hoping like hell she could get him semi-upright, she tucked her sore arm against her side and hooked her good arm under his shoulder. She'd almost managed to get him to his feet when the elevator pinged, the doors slipped open, and three people stood gaping at the spectacle.

Clover swallowed a sigh. She'd have to file a report. There would be no keeping Wyatt Bailey's drunkfest quiet now … not with a trio of witnesses.

Well, fuck.

I'm having fun with this one. This scene alone was sheer joy to write.

 

That's it for this week. Happy reading!

Skylin