Story Time-Ch1-Pg2

Thank you all for reading yesterday. Here is the second page of my debut novel, Ruby and the Killer Amp. I hope you enjoy and share! As always, comments are appreciated.

The hall on the second floor was especially creaky. I didn’t want to wake up any of my housemates, so I eased open my door and tiptoed to the bathroom. I shared the upstairs with the twins (named because of looks and habits, not biology), Eva and Evan; Blake had the ground floor room; and Corey had run of the basement. We got along alright and managed to pay the rent on time. So far, it had been a great housing situation. I had lived in worse places.

I was careful to avoid the squeaky spot in front of Eva’s room. I knew she’d been out later than me last night, and would kill me if I woke her up early. It would almost be worth it to see the look on her face, she was extra cute when she first woke up. Finally, I got to the bathroom and closed the door after myself.

Our bathroom was cool and clean, it was the soothing balm I needed for my pounding headache. I was glad that the twins were neat-freaks like me. Blake’s room would make frat boys on a bender proud. I turned the water on as hot as I could stand it, and sighed as I stepped into the steaming shower. There was nothing like showering in a nice clean tub, even if it was an old claw foot and the curtain occasionally got a little friendly.

After I got out of the shower, I finished my bathroom routine. It was quick and easy: face lotion, deodorant, the morning floss and toothbrush, then I wrapped a towel around me and repeated the careful walk back to my room. I stood in front of the closet and wondered what to wear for work. Not that it mattered. I wore almost the same outfit every day. Inevitably, I chose some variation of jeans, t-shirt, and hoodie. If I was feeling glamorous, I would throw on an argyle sweater. Today felt like an all-black day and that suited me just fine, though I did throw on my favorite robot socks just for kicks.

I checked my appearance in the mirror; the dark clothing looked good against my pale skin. The light coming in from the window showed the ruddy-brown highlights in my elbow length, wavy, black hair. My face was thinner than I liked, and I kept threatening to get a nose job. My mom always said I should be proud of my Irish and Slavic heritage, and for the most part I was. I felt like my best facial feature was my eyes. They were big, with arched brows, a pretty hazel-brown, and rimmed in thick black lashes. Aside from my little beer belly, I was thin without looking scrawny. I wouldn’t mind being taller than my five foot three, but that’s why the gods invented boots. One last look over in the mirror, and I decided I was good for the day.

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