Hope Unashamed

By Nadine C. Keels

For Every Love, Book Two: a sweet friends to lovers romance

He’s never been so mesmerized by a girl before...

Arthur is a studious, “all or nothing” kind of guy with his life planned out. Even before he’s old enough to drive a car, he knows he wants a career in computers. Since he sees no need for romance until he’s ready for marriage, Arthur keeps his focus on his education.

Then, a new school year brings a stunning young lady into Arthur’s path, blindsiding his ideas on romance. As a result, his transition from boyhood to manhood includes the pursuit of the woman he wishes to make his wife. But when his pursuit falls through, Arthur must realize when it’s time to give up the shame of a broken dream—and learn what it truly means to hope for more.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Nadine C. Keels
• Release date: Sep 16, 2017
• ISBN: 9781370444250

Nadine C. Keels

Nadine. A French name, meaning, "hope."Her lifelong passion for the power of story makes reading and writing an adventure for Nadine C. Keels. She’s driven to write the kinds of stories she’s always wanted to read but couldn’t always find, featuring diverse and uncommon lead characters in a medley of genres. Through her books and her blog (Prismatic Prospects), Nadine aims to spark hope and inspiration in as many people as she can reach."My aspiration is for my words to help people: to bring hope, to change minds, to expand imagination, to provide entertainment, and to save lives—as other authors’ words have done for me."

Book preview

Hope Unashamed

For Every Love Series Book Two

Nadine C. Keels

Smashwords Edition

Copyright 2017 by Nadine C. Keels

Cover Design:

Nadine C. Keels

Image of male model courtesy of èlsimage studio

―

Scripture quotation taken from the King James Version of The Holy Bible.

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any further resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or to events or locales, is not intended.

Find Nadine online at:

www.prismaticprospects.wordpress.com

―

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

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Contents

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After

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

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There’s More

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And hope maketh not ashamed; because the love of God is shed abroad in our hearts…

Romans 5:5

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After

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I just can’t figure out why you, good mister, haven’t asked me a thing yet.

The saucy statement spoken softly but firmly at his back—his rather damp back, at the moment—confused him, even as the familiar, feminine voice that had issued the words smoothed over his consciousness like a warm glaze.

Or maybe more like warm sauce. Saucy, but of the rich and enticing variety. Sweet and spicy.

He was already sweaty, leaning over to replace a set of free weights after his early morning workout here at the gym, so he wasn’t sure if he could stand any more warmth. He kept his expression as unreadable as possible, hoping that the wall of mirrors before him hadn’t caught and reflected back any wayward reaction that may have escaped his face.

What’s this? he murmured as he calmly straightened and turned around to face the young woman, his dark brown eyes meeting the light brown ones that gently challenged him. No ‘Good morning’ or anything, miss?

She flipped the towel in her hand up over one shoulder, and her arms folded over the front of her black track zip-up, which, of course, had two bold fuchsia stripes running down each sleeve. Her feet shifted, one of her hips easing out into even more of a curve than the other, her head tilting. Morning, she allowed. Good morning. Though, I must say, it’d be a better one if you’d asked me by now.

His eyebrows inched toward each other. Asked you what? he wanted to know, but, then, he did know, as soon as the question was out of his mouth. He took note of the glistening beads of perspiration popping up on her nose and along her forehead, evidence of the brisk walk she’d been on, by way of a treadmill. Good morning to you, too, he remembered to say, his arms coming to fold over the front of his currently spotty gray T-shirt because his hands felt extremely idle, all at once.

Yeah, she said on a short release of breath, equally a hint of a laugh and a sigh. Thanks. She shook her head. I mean, I wouldn’t even bring it up. The only reason I am now is because the way you came so close to it last night and then backed out of it was just way too obvious. Too obvious for me not to say anything.

He shook his head, giving his own little sigh, but right as he was about to speak her name in a mild plea, she dropped her arms, all sauce and challenges giving way to genuine care in her voice. But, anyway. I know we both have places to be soon, so… She started walking past him. You have a good day. Okay?

Yes. You, too, he answered as she was leaving, but one of his hands came out to take a light hold of her arm. Hey.

She stopped to face him again, her look expectant, but not overly so. He only looked back at her until he was certain that an understanding was in place between them. Then, he told her, I’ll call you.

She gave a single nod of acceptance. I know.

He let go of her, watching her walk past a few other patrons using gym equipment as she left the room, and then he retrieved his own towel. He rubbed it over his bronzy brown face as he started in the direction of the men’s locker room, realizing he’d grown even warmer in spite of himself, and he toyed with the idea of making his shower a cold one.

"I just can’t figure out why you haven’t asked me a thing yet." But, really, why hadn’t he asked her?

Once he was in the locker room, turning on the water in a shower stall, the instant the frigid blast of water burst out and hit him, soaking into his dark head of hair and streaming down his face, his mind began reeling back into past years, relaying all of the reasons why.

~~~

Chapter One

Before

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The sound of a human body banging into a row of lockers and the resulting barrage of laughter somewhere down the hall from the school commons made me grimace. With fleeting annoyance, I rehearsed to myself how stupid the whole concept of Freshman Day was. The stupidity would only compound when its participants would carry on in the school’s central areas, where faculty members were more likely to see it all and break it up. Still, my annoyance disappeared as my focus was absorbed back into the book in my hands. Midmorning break between classes gave a guy like me just enough time to get a meaningful portion of a chapter in, and I’d rather not waste that limited time minding other guys’ business.

Even now, as a high school sophomore, the first Friday of the school year wasn’t any special day for me, aside from how I would Thank God It was Friday as much as anybody would. The fact that it was designated as the first Freshman Day of the year by tradition didn’t change my life any, except for the additional noise the day brought along with it. There wasn’t one freshman or another I was interested in hunting down and beating up any more than any sophomores last year had been interested in hunting me down. Freshman Day was a time for popular ninth grade males and incoming frosh athletes to run away scared from popular and athletic males in tenth grade (and from a few semi-popular and unexceptional athletes in the junior class who didn’t quite understand that they should’ve retired from Freshman Day involvement and looked that much cornier still chasing down youngbloods to roughen up). No sophomore idols or jocks on the prowl for younger meat would’ve cared anything about a skinny-ish, baby-faced, ultra studious-type dude whom nobody who was anybody had heard much of.

Names like mine and those of my friends weren’t really heard until they were announced at the school’s quarterly academic awards assemblies. While most students found those assemblies boring, some of the folks who hadn’t cared before would take note of the names and/or faces of classmates walking up to the stage in the auditorium to accept their awards. Those names and/or faces would be duly filed away in the minds of students who wanted to know which people might have the best homework assignments to copy from.

Not that I resented it when classmates who hadn’t finished their work asked to copy off of mine. It didn’t exactly do my ego damage to know when other people knew there was something I was good at, and the cooler a guy truly was, the cooler he took it when I’d turn down his request to see my work before the start of class.

So, no, Freshman Day didn’t entail special activity for me or for the others with me in our row of three guys and three girls lining one wall of the commons during break, using the time for extra reading or studying. We would save our talking for lunchtime, and besides the jotting of notes or the flipping of pages, the only real movement that would happen along our row in the commons would be the passing down of a communal bag of potato chips or crackers or something. It went without saying that at least one of us always brought along a snack to share with the group.

On this first Friday of my sophomore year, I barely looked up to receive an open bag of cheese puffs from Dennis, who’d been my main sidekick since he and I met each other back in middle school. I wouldn’t have looked up again after the Freshman Day commotion that went tearing in and out of the commons at that moment if the noise hadn’t been accompanied by the muffled sound of a female yelp.

My eyes jumped upward to peer into the crowd of students milling around, some of them apparently laughing about the stampede that had flown past, others just talking and laughing in general. Scanning toward the direction I thought I’d heard the yelp from, it took me a minute to identify who must’ve been its issuer: a girl standing alone, pushing herself away from the wall she’d likely been shoved against. She had an open cup of chocolate pudding in her hand, and some pudding was smeared over her mouth and cheek.

I sucked my teeth. Idiots, I muttered, handing the cheese puffs back to Dennis.

What? Dennis inquired, adjusting the glasses on his face as he looked up from his own reading.

They pushed her was the only explanation I gave as I shut my book, hoisted my backpack by the straps over my shoulders, and made my way through the throng over to the girl in the pudding predicament.

Good morning. I’m sorry, I greeted her with an apology to get her attention, and her eyes widened when she turned and realized I was talking to her. I’m sorry.

Her eyes whipped up and down over me, perhaps to determine if I’d been a part of the passing commotion or not. Sorry for what? she asked.

I recognized her, a girl new to the school who was the only other sophomore in my chemistry class, a class that was otherwise full of juniors. Sorry they ran into you like that, I clarified, briefly bending to the floor to pick up the plastic spoon I assumed she’d been about to use. Folks need to watch where they’re going.

She held up her cup of pudding with an embarrassed but droll look. "My fault for trying to lick the lid.