Home > Work > Starting from Zero (Starting From #1)
1 " I told you the name of the commercial jingle I wrote. You could always google it and—” “That’s research. Not happening,” I huffed. “Too much work?” “Too annoying. You know my brother’s name and that my mom is miserable and that I know the words to more eighties songs than I should admit. Fess up. It’s only fair.” “Okay…” He pulled into the driveway of a posh boutique hotel on Sunset and parked behind a Tesla near the modern-looking entry. Then he unfastened his seat belt and glanced up at the valet rounding the front of his car before refocusing on me. “My favorite color is blue, I’m an only child, my parents both died five years ago within a month of each other and…I’m going commando right now. How ’bout that drink? "
― Lane Hayes , Starting from Zero (Starting From #1)
2 " I have no idea what love is, but you’re the person I want to be with all the fucking time. "
3 " I set my earlier misgivings aside, pushed my fingers through his hair, and started talking. I described the streets and scenery, the food and the people of some of my more memorable trips to Boston, Chicago, London, and Paris. I talked and talked… and just when I thought I might be boring him, he’d ask another question. I stroked his head while I spoke and let my gaze wander. But after a while, I got lost in the moment. I tuned out the piped jazz playing through the speakers, the sounds of children laughing and people chatting, and focused on Justin. The weight of his body against my shoulder, the way his voice reverberated through me when he spoke. Hell, just the sound of his breathing grounded me. "
4 " In an artistic sense, he wasn’t inspiration for a song; he was the silence in between the words. A gorgeous note followed by a poignant pause. "
5 " O-kay…where does one go to people-watch lovers?” “Places you’d go on a date. Movies, dinner, the park, the beach, the mall.” “Seriously?” he gaped incredulously. “If you were gonna ask someone out, you’d take them to the mall? Dude. Even I know that’s lame.” “Okay, but I’m not writing about only things I like. I want to write in a language everyone understands. Get it?” “But the mall?” I sighed in mock defeat. “Pretend you just landed a hot date with the guy or girl of your dreams. Where are you gonna go?” “Somewhere free. I’m on a tight budget.” “The mall is free.” “And boring,” he countered. “And what’s the point of going someplace where you can’t afford anything?” “You can window shop,” I suggested cheerily. "
6 " He frequently jumped up and paced when a new idea hit him. And he wouldn’t sit again until he was sure I’d written it down. Or until a dog passed by. He must have stopped midsentence five times to pet a dog. The last one was a white French poodle. "
