The Next Big Thing, and My Cover Reveal

Yes, I did just say MY cover reveal! Keep reading to find out more.

My friend Ty tagged me in The Next Big Thing blog hop whatchamacallit thingy that has been making the rounds. Please make sure to read his post, about his novel Flowers for Dionysus, which you should all be jealous to know I read an early draft of. And now onto the questions and my answers.

1. What is the working titled of one of your current stories?

I hate deciding on a title, so this novel was called a couple different things, including just "Charlotte" for a while, until I decided on the final title: SORRY'S NOT ENOUGH.

2. Where did the idea come from for the story?

Believe it or not, SNE grew out of the first novel I ever attempted in high school. Thinking back on that project, I have to thank my creative writing teacher for humoring me. I can't imagine how teenage-angsty and melodramatic and amateurish it all must have seemed. But through the years, there was still something about the two main characters that stuck with me. And as my writing grew and progressed, I revisited the characters and one aspect of that original story - a relationship between a high school student and her teacher - and wrote a new story. It took on a whole new life, and Sorry's Not Enough was born.

3. What genre does it fall under?

I struggled with this at first. I called it women's fiction, even though, in my mind, that term conjured an image of older characters and a different type of story. Because there's a relationship in the story, some early readers kept saying it was romance, but it's not. Because of the young age, some early readers insisted it was young adult, which it's not. Recently, the category of New Adult has become more recognized, and I think it fits SNE perfectly! Therefore, I am calling it Contemporary New Adult fiction.

4. Which actors would you choose to play your characters in a movie rendition?

I've never been one of those people who has a concrete idea of these things from the first word. I don't go searching for pictures for inspiration or anything like that. Which is probably why I've never joined Pinterest. There are only two actors I can think of off the top of my head who sort of look like how I imagine the male lead, but they're both a little too old to play 24-year-old Steven. Christopher Gorham and Matt Bomer both have the combination of charming and manly that I love about Steven's character. They'd have to wear contacts, though, because one of Steven's defining characteristics is his piercing green eyes.

As for actresses to play Charlotte... I'm not sure. I need to brush up on my pop culture, because I keep thinking of actresses out of age range! America Ferrera could work, but she's probably too old. Maybe Jennifer Lawrence.

5. What is the one-sentence synopsis of your story?

After being betrayed at a young age by the one man she should've been able to trust, Charlotte builds emotional walls to keep the world out, but Steven ignores the Keep Out signs and falls in love anyway.

(Um, or something like that... this has always been the hardest part!)

6. Will you be self-published or represented by an agency?

Well, this is it. The big announcement. I said once before that I would self publish SNE, then pulled back from that for various reasons that are less important now. I'm happy to announce that I will, once and for all, be self publishing Sorry's Not Enough next month (exact date TBD). With the help of Calista Taylor at Covers by Cali, I'm even happier to unveil the cover art. I hope you like it!

7. How long as the editing taken you?

Hoo boy... SNE has gone through about ten different revisions, and it has been several years since I first started writing it. There was quite a bit of down time between a couple revisions, as I was frustrated and worked on other things. I'd say overall, from when I finished the first draft until now, the amount if time I spent actively editing and revising had to be around three or four years. So this has been a long time coming.

8. What other stories would you compare it to within your genre?

This is where I come across looking like an illiterate schmuck, right? I'm really not sure what comparable titles are for my book, because I don't read as often as I'd like, and when I do, I mostly read outside my genre. Is that totally blasphemous, or what? Oh well. *sheepish grin*

9. Who or what inspired you to write this story?

See #2. :-) But also, I'd have to say the only creative writing class I took in college, during my senior year, helped rekindle my passion. It reminded me how much I loved to write, and my instructor gave us advice that has stuck with me to this day. I never could have known then how important his attitude of celebrating rejection letters would be.

10. What else about your story might pique the reader's interest?

It was a critique of a scene in this book, from a writer I admire immensely, that first started me thinking about writing erotica and embracing that aspect of my writing. (SNE is not erotica, but it does have some steamy sex scenes.) Here's an extended description of Sorry's Not Enough:

Charlotte learned at an early age that people – including family – are capable of hurting you so bad “sorry” will never be enough. The obvious solution is not to let anyone close enough to do any damage, and she's doing just fine with that until a summer writing workshop brings Steven into her life. Unfamiliar with Charlotte's Stay the Hell Away from Me memo to the world, he uses his wit and good looks – or what Charlotte would call his obnoxious ego and his really, really good looks – to win her over. The unexpected summer romance screeches to a halt when Steven's job creates an ethical dilemma for the couple. Sorry doesn't begin to cover the hurt feelings.

Despite the secrets she's keeping and the renewed passion with which she pushes him away, Steven can't let Charlotte go. And so the cycle of their relationship begins. Over the course of four years they share moments as passionate lovers, periods of warm friendship, as well as months of barely-civil tension. 

When no amount of time or distance, and no number of men can make her forget the comfort of Steven's arms, Charlotte must dig into her painful past and face the man whose betrayal destroyed her capacity for trust to begin with. And by the time she finds the courage to do so, will “sorry” be enough to get Steven back?

 Now I get to tag someone else to answer these questions! I choose Robert K. Lewis. Since his debut novel just released, what better time to answer some questions about the sequel?

(4/13/13 Edit: You can now add SNE to your Goodreads bookshelf!)

Pitch Polish Blog Hop - #GUTGAA

In case you forgot, GUTGAA stands for Gearing Up to Get an Agent. In preparation for the agent and small press pitch contests, I'm participating in the pitch polish blog hop. 100 anonymous pitch polish entries will be posted on Deana Barnhart's blog, and the rest of us who'd like help with our pitches are posting them on our own blogs. Let me know what you think about my pitch, and be sure to head over to Deana's blog to help out with some other pitches, too. For the purposes of GUTGAA, the pitch consists of the "meat" of our query letter and the first 150 words of our manuscript. So, without further ado, here's mine!

TITLE: Sorry's Not Enough
GENRE: Commercial New Adult
WORD COUNT: 97,000

PITCH:

If emotional wall-building were an art form, Charlotte would be a grand master. After being betrayed at a young age by the one man she should've been able to trust, she builds an impenetrable fortress of solitude. At least she thinks it's impenetrable, until a summer writing workshop brings Steven into her life. With his obnoxious ego and stupid good looks, he's somehow immune to her Stay the Hell Away from Me pheromones. Even more bizarre is that for the first time, Charlotte can't quite bring herself to really push him away. 

The unexpected romance screeches to a halt when Charlotte and Steven walk into the same classroom at the start of the school year and find themselves on opposite sides of the desk. Steven's quick with the apologies, but sorry doesn't seem to cut it when you've just found yourself cast as a modern day Lolita, you know?

Obviously the universe is telling Charlotte that keeping Steven at arm's length is the only way to avoid getting hurt. Resisting the warmth of his embrace is easier said than done, though, especially when it's evident Steven has no intention of letting her go. 

And so the cycle of their relationship begins. Over the course of several years they share moments as passionate lovers, periods of warm friendship, and months of barely-civil tension. How can she hope to create a healthy relationship with Steven when she's never confronted the relationship that destroyed her ability to trust in the first place? And by the time she finds the courage to do so, will sorry be enough for Steven?

FIRST 150:

Sanguinolent sunset. There's a word you don't see every day. Charlotte circled it with her red pen and drew a smiley at the end of the line, below where she'd called out a different phrase for being trite. She continued making notes in the margin as the others took turns giving feedback. By the time she was done marking up the poem, the paper was also sanguinolent.

She looked up when the group grew quiet. Her turn. She looked down at the poem again and hoped its author wouldn't be offended. What was his name? Steven.

“It's a little confused,” she said. There was a pause and a shuffle of papers.

“What don't you understand?”

She snapped her chin up and was taken aback by the force of his gaze. No adjective could adequately describe the shade of green staring back at her.

“I'm not confused. Your poem is.”

Sample: Sorry's Not Enough

Sorry's Not Enough
Commercial Fiction
Chapter 1

Sanguinolent sunset. Now there's a word you don't see every day. Charlotte circled it with her red pen and drew a smiley face at the end of the line, just below where she'd called out a different phrase for being trite. She continued making notes in the margin as the rest of the group took turns giving their feedback. By the time she was done marking up the poem, the paper was also sanguinolent.

She looked up when the group grew quiet. Her turn. She looked down at the poem again and hoped its author wouldn't be offended. She had to look at the paper to remember his name. Steven.

“It's a little confused,” she said. There was a pause and a shuffle of papers.

“What don't you understand?” he asked.

She snapped her chin up to look at him and was taken aback by the force of his gaze and the color of his eyes. There wasn't an adjective to describe the shade of green staring back at her.

“I'm not confused. Your poem is.”

His gaze dropped to his copy of the poem. She could almost see his brain struggling to acknowledge that there could be any imperfections. He probably thought it was soooo amazing! as proclaimed by Aubrey, the bubbly redhead to his left. She had gushed to an embarrassing extent, obviously more interested in getting his number than saying anything meaningful. It had been sad and funny at the same time. With a pang of something she refused to believe was jealousy, Charlotte realized that, of the two of them, Aubrey would be the only one taking any numbers.

Whatever. She certainly didn't want Steven's number. Not when he looked at her again with an aloof, almost cocky grin, apparently waiting to hear more of her thoughts about his poem. Well, if he insisted.

“The style isn't consistent. The first stanza is really concise, like you chose each word for a reason.” The red smiley face she'd drawn next to sanguinolent sunset caught her eye, but she ignored it. She'd let Aubrey pad his ego. “But the last couple of stanzas have some ornate description that's just a waste of space. And some clichés that need to go.”

“Lots of authors use clichés,” Aubrey said and shot a hopeful glance at Steven. “It can be an effective tool.”

Charlotte shrugged. “Except it's not. Not here. They don't help create a tone or anything, and this isn't satire. A cliché without purpose is still just a cliché.”

Aubrey frowned, but Steven nodded slowly, like he was seeing her point.

“Easy on the poor lad, Charlotte,”Alexander McAnulty said. He was a portly gentleman, and one of the oldest workshop participants. Charlotte liked to think of him as her long-lost, really awesome Irish uncle. The kind who might've let you take a puff of his pipe when you were barely twelve, with a warning of don't tell yer mum. She'd gotten to know him during a previous workshop. “Wasn't there anything you liked about it?”

She softened a bit. She wasn't trying to be mean. “I never said I didn't like it.”

“No, it's okay. I appreciate the honesty,” Steven said.

She would've gone on to mention what she did like about it, but Deb, the instructor, called for the small groups to break up and reform one large group.

At the end of the day's session, Charlotte met Deb at the front of the classroom.

“Ready to go?” Charlotte was looking forward to a cream soda float at the campus creamery.

“In a minute. I asked Steven to come along,” Deb said.

“Why?”

Deb laughed and shook her head. “What'd he do to rub you the wrong way?”

“Nothing. He's just very sure of himself.” She watched him pack up his messenger bag from across the room.

“Since when is that a fault?”

She shrugged. Aubrey bounced over to Steven, grinning like a fool. Charlotte couldn't deny she was cute. A thick mass of red curls, fair skin, a smattering of freckles. Her voice was a little nasally, though. It carried across the room. She was asking Steven to get lunch with her and a few others. He smiled and looked over Aubrey's head to where Charlotte and Deb stood. Aubrey's gaze followed. Charlotte couldn't hear Steven's reply, but the pretty pout said it all.

He slung his bag over his shoulder and approached the front of the room, acknowledging them with a nod. As they walked across campus, Deb and Steven chatted about his job search while Charlotte felt like the odd man out. She trudged alongside Steven, trying not to resent his presence. She had been looking forward to chatting one on one with Deb this afternoon. Deb was like a mother to her, and they hadn't gotten to talk as often as usual in the past month or so.

She perked up a bit when she finally had her cream soda float in hand. Before she could hand the cashier her check card, Steven stepped in front of her and thrust a twenty at the cashier.

“I'll get it.”

“It's fine, I can get my own.”

“For all three.” He ignored her protest. The cashier hesitantly reached for the money.

“I said I can get it.” She gritted her teeth.

“I heard you.” He took his change and smiled his thanks to the girl behind the counter, who promptly blushed. Good lord. Was she the only one not all that impressed? She stalked out to the patio without another word.

She didn't like being indebted to anyone, even if it was for less than five bucks. Especially not some smug guy who thinks his recently earned college diploma makes him an authority on life. After a moment, he came out of the building and sat down next to her. Deb trailed a few feet behind, but before she reached the table, her cell phone rang. She stepped further away and took the call.

“Pistachio is so pretentious,” Charotte said of Steven's double-dip waffle cone.

He laughed and shook his head. “Is that better or worse than being trite?”

She flushed against her better judgment and hoped any color on her cheeks would be mistaken for the effects of the sun. She gazed out across the green stretch of campus between them and the main academic buildings. The Common Grounds is what everyone called the open space. In the middle of summer now, there were more sunbathers than study groups clustered on the lawn. She studied each one that was close enough to see clearly, but no matter how hard she concentrated on tanned bodies and colorful blankets, she couldn't ignore the weight of his gaze.

“You're staring,” she said, without meeting his eyes.

“Why cream soda?”

“What?” She looked at him that time, and immediately regretted it. Didn't he ever blink?

“Root beer float, sure. Coke float, even. Why cream soda?”

The sun glinted in his eyes. At least she thought it was the sun. Eyes couldn't naturally possess that much sparkle, could they? She looked down into her cup, then silently cursed his ability to make her uncomfortable.

“It's what I always get.” The melting ice cream formed a frothy foam on top of the soda. She scooped some up with her spoon and brought it to her lips. It began to fizz and melt away the moment it hit her tongue. She loved the mellow caramel flavor of cream soda as opposed to the almost spicy bite of root beer. Vanilla and caramel. Few things worked so well together. “Why mess with perfection?”

“I agree.” He reached toward her and wiped the corner of her mouth with his thumb. His eyes bore into hers like he was looking for something.

At the brush of his fingertips across her cheek, her spine shifted into a sensuous curve and the hair on her scalp prickled. A flutter of eyelashes obscured her vision for a moment. She couldn't keep looking at him if he was going to keep looking at her like that. She averted her eyes, feeling like a part of her was showing that she'd much rather keep under wraps.

“Sorry.” His voice tickled the base of her spine even as his hand dropped back to the table.

“It's okay.” His hands she didn't mind. It was his eyes she wished he would keep to himself.

Deb finally joined them at the table, oblivious to the tension of a moment ago.

“Sorry about that, guys. Gary is taking the boys to the lake for a little while and couldn't find Gregory's swim trunks. I swear, if the man bothered to move something, life would be a little easier.”

“The lake sounds really good right now,” Charlotte said. Her cheeks burned. From the sun, of course.

“Maybe you can come with us some time next week,” Deb said. “The boys have been asking about you.”

“I miss their little faces.” After seeing them and helping care for them every day for more than two years, she was having cuteness withdrawal after moving out of Deb's house earlier in the summer. She glanced at her watch and sighed.

“What? Oh, you don't have to leave right now, do you?” Deb asked.

“I have to get ready for work.”

“Where's work?” Steven asked. She pretended not to hear.

“I left my uniform in the dryer last night, so I’m going to need to starch it to death.”

“That's too bad. I wanted to ask you guys how you liked working in small groups today.”

“I got some great feedback,” Steven said, grinning.

Deb looked at him, then Charlotte.

“Apparently I’m trite.” He still smiled when he said it, but she blushed anyway. God damn, she wished he'd stop making her do that.

“Not you, the poem. Although you're getting there.”

“Charlotte doesn't hold back when it comes to criticism,” Deb said, smiling.

“Oh come on, you say that like I get some pleasure from it.”

“I said no such thing. But maybe it says something that that's what you heard.” Deb winked and nudged Steven with her elbow.

Maybe she was right. She shrugged it off and stood up.

“Call me tomorrow,” Deb said. “There's something else I wanted to talk to you about.”

Charlotte stiffened. The air grew thick, as though the humidity had doubled. She already knew what the something else was, and she didn't want to discuss it any more.

“I told my Aunt no. I’m not changing my mind.”

“Honey, I just want you to understand--”

“No.” She angled her body more toward Deb, in an attempt to remove Steven from her peripheral vision. “I have nothing to say to him and want nothing to do with him. He has no legal standing over me anymore. I made sure of that.”

“I know. I get that.” Deb stood and embraced her briefly. “Sorry I brought it up here. Just call me, okay?”

“Okay.” She smoothed her shorts over her hips, more as a way to iron out her irritation than to rid herself of wrinkles. “Give the boys hugs and kisses for me.”

“Of course.”

“See ya, Charlotte.” Steven's voice made her pause mid-turn as she was leaving. She looked back over her shoulder. His smile worked some of the tension out of her shoulders. She nodded and smiled back. He'd at least earned that much.

Letting Go.... um, maybe... not yet.... i don't wanna....

I had a thought the other day... I might shelve Charlotte and Sorry's Not Enough for good.  Just set it aside and move on.  I'm still as in love with the story as I was from when I wrote the very first word.  But I'm thinking Charlotte may not be the one to launch my career.  I'm really excited about Confessions and Marisol's story, and I feel like one of those would be more likely to be picked up by an agent than Sorry's Not Enough.  They have stronger hooks.  A young woman grieving the death of her fiance, exploring her faith (or lack thereof), and falling in love with her dead fiance's brother.  Yeah, I'd say that packs more punch than Charlotte's story, which I can barely even sum  up in one succint sentence.

Then there's Marisol.  I think Marisol could be my big ticket.  I was sitting down to gather my thoughts the other day (I need to sort out my ideas and figure out which book they belong to.  I'm thinking there will be at least 3 books in the series!) and wrote a nice little blurb to sum up the first book.  It goes something like this:

With her sexy roommate Zane knocking on her bedroom door, a boss who likes a bit on the side, and the rest of Philadelphia's men to conquer, Marisol is having too much fun to worry about climbing the fashion industry's ladder.  But when her boss's philandering ways cost him his co-designer and fashion show coordinator, under-achieving Mari must rise to the occasion.  While pressures mount at work, Zane tests her boundaries in bed with an endless supply of techniques, locations, and partners.

Sounds like fun, right?  Besides, show me another erotica novel with a bilingual, half Puerto Rican, sexy size 14 main character who enjoys porn, fashion, football, ice hockey, and safe sex?  And oh yeah, to top it off, she loves all things British (especially Dr. Who), blogs about sex, and will try just about anything once.  Mari is crazy.  CRAZY, I tell you!  If she doesn't land me an agent somehow, somewhere, I might as well stop writing.

So anyway.  Back to Charlotte and whether to put her away.  I'm reluctant to do it.  That's my baby.  Plus, I'm not sure if my newfound "acceptance" of her non-publishability is just me being honest and market-savvy, or if it's just me being scared to go for it.  Because let's face it, I haven't exactly been querying my pants off.  Less than 10 queries, pretty much all form rejections.  But I know writers who have queried 20, 40, 50 or more agents for one project, and keep on trucking.  Am I just backing out because I'm afraid?  Could be.  It's a bit of a tendency of mine.  All bravado in words, but coward in action.

Is it that whole fear of failure thing?  Or fear of success?  Fear of owning up to who and what I am and really living it every day, out loud, and not just in cyberspace?  I don't know.  I like to think I'm being smart and unemotional by looking at the black and white facts.  I find that as I continue writing and starting new projects, the quality of writing is getting better and better.   And no amount of revision can really bring Charlotte up to that level.  Or can it?  It could be that I'm just afraid of all that hard work.  Or impatient.  I want to move on and really immerse myself in these new projects, but a big part of my time is being spent worrying about whether Sorry's Not Enough is in the best possible shape.  Is my revising really finished?  Is there something I could do better?  I've even toyed with the idea of splitting it up into two books again, which would require major overhauling, and writing about 50,000 new words to make the second half long enough for its own book. 

I've been working on it for so long now, maybe it just needs a long rest while I work on something else.  I tried to set it down - and managed to do that - for a while.  But it was only a few weeks.  Maybe it should be a few months or more.

Am I just being a lazy coward?  My crit group likes it, and the few friends who've read it like it also.  But that doesn't mean an agent will love it enough to rep it.  Maybe I should stop rambling about it on my blog and make a decision.  I'll let you know as soon as I make it.

Aspiring Author Profile: ME!

So I'm rounding up some aspiring authors to profile in the coming weeks, but I figured it wouldn't be fair to them if I didn't also participate.  So here's my questionnaire:

Name: J. Lea Lopez, not to be confused with a much more famous J.Lo, whose middle name happens to be Lynn

Age…ish?: 26

Location: Pennsylvania, US

Genre(s) you write: Women’s fiction, Erotica

Books/Authors you love: Dean Koontz. Absolutely anything by that man. Some recent books I’ve read that became instant favorites are The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night Time, by Mark Haddon, and Wetlands by Charlotte Roche.

How long have you been writing? My memory’s pretty hazy before middle school anyway, but that’s about when I can recall writing down stories. In secret, of course, because I always based them on real people I had crushes on at the time. Like my seventh-grade math teacher. No joke. They were really cheesy and bad, but that need to tell stories (I now make up fictional characters, thank you very much!) has never left me.

Do you have any professional/industry experience as a writer? Nope. Wouldn’t mind getting some, though.

Had anything published? Not unless you count my high school lit magazine, or that joke of a site poetry.com. They publish anything.

Agent status (please X all that apply)

[X] Need one
[X] Want one. Desperately. Want. One.
[ ] Got one
[ ] We’re “talking”
[ ] I’m cyberstalking him/her, but so far they have yet to respond to my inappropriate sexual advances…. Erm, I mean, my query letter.
[ ] Agent? Who needs an agent?

Either/Or when you write:

Pen and paper, or computer screen? Definitely pen and paper.

Plotster (outlines, scene cards, etc.) or Pantster (writing by the seat of your pants)? Major pantster. I get a hint of the plotster sometimes, but it’s usually overrun by the ADD tendencies of my pantster self.

Music on, or off? On, most of the time.

Solitude, or surrounded by people, sounds, things? Each has its benefits. I do enjoy my quiet, solitary writing time, though.

Cleanest first draft possible, or screw grammar/spelling/punctuation and fix it later? Cleanest possible. I think things over so long before I ever even write a word, I guess that’s why it takes me so long to actually get a chapter written sometimes.

Slave to the whimsy of your muse, or writing like it’s your job, even when you don’t feel like it? Total slave. Like whips and chains, it’s that serious. I get extremely frustrated when I’m inspired with a great idea and “real life” gets in the way of me sitting down and writing. And I don’t always have the self-control to make myself churn out a couple pages every day. My muse likes to jerk me around.

Do you have a certain place/time of day/writing implement/obsessive ritual/etc. that is crucial to your writing process? I like to write in black pen. Even red pen sometimes. But blue irritates me. I don’t like using blue pen unless I have nothing else.

Where do you get your inspiration? It just comes to me out of nowhere. I might see/hear/experience one tiny little thing, then my brain immediately shoots off into what-if land, and before I know it, a story is born. For example, Sorry’s Not Enough was borne out of the idea of ‘when might a student-teacher relationship not be so inappropriate?’ and it’s evolved into so much more. That student-teacher aspect is just a small part of the picture now.

What one thing do you really love about your own writing? I don’t know. I like the feeling I get when I sit down to do some editing, and before I know it I’ve forgotten the editing part and just read 30 pages for the pleasure of it. That’s pretty special. But I don’t know what it is about my writing, necessarily, that I like. People compliment my dialogue. And my sex scenes haha. So I guess I like those. But that’s two things. Whatever, it’s my survey anyway.

What one thing do you wish you could do better? Dialogue. Doesn’t matter how many people compliment it, I’m still my worst critic.

Anything else you want to say? Fish tacos. That’s what’s for dinner. Soon as I make them.

Anything for us to read? Aww, you want more? Haven’t you read enough? Well let me see what I can dig up for you….
 
This is from Chapter 14 of Sorry's Not Enough:

“So are you and this John guy serious now?”

The answer to his question was a resounding no. She definitely wasn’t interested in anything serious. Not with John.

“It’s not a big deal.”

“You might want to tell him that.”

Charlotte smiled. This was a new side of him. It was strangely flattering to know he was jealous, even if he wouldn’t admit it.

“If I know anything about 17-year old boys, let me tell you that he’s looking for something definitely more serious than you are.”

“He’s 18 already.” His birthday was in September.

“An older guy, huh?”

“Yeah, I seem to like the older ones,” she said.

They locked eyes.

“Do you?”

“Didn’t you know?”

His eyes glinted. “I might have guessed.”

She wanted to tell him that the way he made her feel just by looking at her like that was a thousand times more remarkable than anything she ever hoped to get from John. Her smile faltered when she remembered what she was supposed to be talking to him about.

“Is there anything I can do about my grade?” she asked abruptly, making sure her voice wasn’t nearly as soft or teasing as it sounded to her a moment ago.

“I’m glad you’re thinking about that. I don’t know what’s been going on the past few weeks, but your work isn’t meeting the expectations I have for you. Not in the least.”

She hated that authoritative tone and the way his eyebrows arched slightly, his concern almost parental.

“Can I rewrite it?”

“I’m sorry, but no. The requirements for the assignment were clearly spelled out, and you had plenty of time to do it right. Your overall average is a low B right now, but there’s no reason you can’t pull it up by the end of the year.”

“I know I screwed up, okay? Isn’t there anything I can do about it?”

“You can do better next time. There will be plenty of assignments between now and the end of the school year to balance that one grade. If you were in danger of failing, I’d be willing to discuss extra credit, but you’re not.”

“Fine.” Charlotte stood up and stacked her books. She was already ten minutes late for Chemistry.

“I don’t know what more you want from me. I can’t have a special set of rules just for you and not the rest of the class.”

“I’m not asking for a better grade in exchange for sexual favors, I just want to rewrite the damn thing!”

He jumped out of his chair and hurried to close the classroom door. He turned to her, his face flushed red.

“What the hell are you doing? Are you trying to get me fired?”

“No, I— I wasn’t trying—” It was just a stupid joke. He was supposed to laugh, to give her that knowing look like he had when they’d talked about John. She’d said it thinking of Steven, not Mr. Patria. She had to find a way to reconcile the two ideas of this same man, or she really would lose her mind.

“I shouldn’t have said it. I didn’t mean anything by it, I swear,” she said, picking up her books and trying to maneuver past him.

“Charlotte, wait.” He reached for her, sliding his hand all the way around to the small of her back.

It was much too intimate a gesture, and she reacted much too boldly, stepping into him so that the only thing between them was her armful of textbooks. Reaching behind with her free hand, she found the doorknob and clicked the button lock with her thumb.

“We can’t do this,” he said, but he made no move to walk away. She’d never wanted him more than she did in that instant when his hesitation proved to her that, though he was unattainable, he was not unwilling......

Want to know how they got here, and what happens next?  You can read Sorry's Not Enough on Authonomy.