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This book in its entirety is a work of fiction. Any names, characters, places, and events are products of the author’s imagination or are used completely fictitiously. Any similarity to authentic events, locales or persons—living or dead—is wholly unintentional. This is a promise to you, the reader, from me, the author.
Young Adult Reading Material
LGBT Reading Material
*****
This work of fiction began as short story for a few friends wishing they had more material on LGBT romance to read. They asked. I gave.
Thank you to my wonderful friends for reading and reviewing this piece prior to publishing it. I appreciate you and the time you spent helping me. You know who you are.
I hope you enjoy the story as much as I enjoyed writing it.
*****
AGAINST ALL ODDS
A SUBCONSCIOUS ACCOUNT FROM VALERIE ANNE THOMPSON
*****
CHAPTER 1
What is a Simple Life?
I grew up thinking that life would be so wondrous. I could be whatever I wanted to be. Well, that’s according to my parents. And, of course, that plan had to fit into whatever they wanted to me to be. I hate feeling like I have to make my parents happy.
Planning would make everything fall into place smoothly. I had everything scheduled from a very early age. I had my best friend, Ali, always at my side. We have always been inseparable. We were going to go to college together. Ali and I were sure we’d end up getting jobs doing about the same thing. We’d always been fascinated by movies and wanted to work behind the scenes. We’d both live near each other-- hopefully somewhere with a beach-- so that we could live the BFF life.
If there’s one integral piece of information that I’ve learned in my twenty-five years on this planet-- things don’t always turn out the way you want them to. In fact, most of the time, you never even come close. Why couldn’t I have figured that out a lot sooner?
I’m trying to calm myself down in the back of this horrible, dimly lit limo. I can’t stop fidgeting with the silver tulle under my white gown. The gown was so white it reminded me of the blinding effect snow was capable of having on my eyes. How poetic? I’m wearing an angelic dress for my special journey to Hell.
I couldn’t stop thinking that I'd rather be at home. My favorite jeans and a comfy t-shirt were waiting for me. I could almost hear them calling my name. I could almost feel the comfy flannel wrapped around my body.
Instead, I was going to be attending my own funeral in this silk and lace disaster. “This is the worst day of my life,” I think to myself. This day was never a fitted piece in the puzzle of my grand master plan. With the way the laws were heading, a marriage would never be in my future.
Let me clarify one of my previous thoughts. I realize this may be slightly confusing. By funeral I actually mean that it’s my very own perfect, princess wedding. You know, the one that every girl spends her nights dreaming about. The one that girls make believe about during their entire childhood. No expense has been spared for this day. My parents have gone all out, emptying three savings accounts for the dress alone. I don’t even want to consider what his family has put into the affair. A typical, traditional wedding had no place in my life or in my dreams.
I know what you’re thinking. It sounds weird, right? Most women are more than happy to be getting married. They’re ecstatic beyond all reasonable, and sane, belief. Those women even go to great lengths to become Bride-zillas. They make their bridesmaids insane with their every whim. And, of course it had to be the way they wanted it. Well, I am an exception in this particular design. I don’t even know where I’m getting married. Hell, I have no clue what anything even looks like beyond this limo and the dress I’m wearing.
Women generally look forward to the honeymoon and the life they want to lead after that. Girls stage pretend weddings from a young age. Teenagers doodle Mrs. Last-Name-Goes-Here all over notebooks in middle and high school classes. There’s only one problem. I have never been like any of them. In fact, those were the girls that despised me growing up. Why? I’m different.
My groom-to-be, Tom, is a wonderful person. He really is. He’s very handsome and extremely smart, which are all pretty nice characteristics for a man to be granted. He’s always been sweet, but kind of pushy with what he wants. He’s not too patient at all. He’s got a good head on his shoulders and he’s very successful.
Let me just break it down for the entire world to hear. Tom is just not what I want. I’m not even interested in him in the slightest way. Let’s just say that Tom is not my type. But, if I were to tell him or my parents that, I’d be found dead. That’s if I was ever even found at all. Isn’t that a fun thought to be thinking about when I’m supposed to be looking forward to the happiest day of my life? It’s just wonderful being me.