Dawn to Dusk: Lover's Journey, #1

By Alina Popescu

Edi's life is made up of precious moments. 

That first encounter with Robert in rural Romania at eleven. A summer spent together in the same setting a year later. Their first text exchange in high school. The first sexual experience. The first heartbreak—the second and third and fourth chance. The point of total breakdown and the despair of failing. More love than anyone could have warned him about. 

No matter how much time passes, no matter how different their paths, every meeting brings Edi and Robert closer together. Those stolen moments shine brighter than any. Yet loving Robert is not easy, not when Edi wants to be true to himself and is met with dishonesty. Or when Robert keeps parading new conquests and ignores Edi more often than not. 

Edi has always loved Robert, but he must decide if his journey leads to or away from his childhood friend. Is it true love or is Edi just unable to let go?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Alina Popescu
• Release date: Jul 12, 2016
• ISBN: 9781386307839

Alina Popescu

Alina Popescu is an author, traveler, and coffee addict. She has published several paranormal, science fiction, urban fantasy, and contemporary series, many of them having reached the Amazon bestseller lists for their genres. Her stories often fall under the LGBTQ fiction and romance subgenres. Born and raised in Romania, Alina has been writing for most of her life. She’s an avid consumer of stories in all their forms. She’s fascinated by myths, folk tales, and other creators’ visions of the future. She finds her inspiration in books of all genres, movies, and the occasional TV shows or anime binges. Alina is a proud geek and needs her fast internet connection and assortment of gadgets more than she needs air.

Book preview

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying or otherwise, without prior permission of the author.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. In other words, if you think this is about you, it probably isn’t! But, as an Internet meme says, if the shoe fits, then lace it up and wear it proudly!

Warning! This is a contemporary gay romance novel. If you don’t like men falling in love with other men, stop now and move on to reading something else. There are a few sexual situations, some of them explicit. There is occasional swearing as well.

Dawn to Dusk

Lover’s journey, Book I

Copyright © 2016 Alina Popescu

All rights reserved.

Cover art by 8th floor studio

Editing by L.E. Fitzpatrick

Proofreading by Alina Cincan

Table of Contents

Title Page

Acknowledgements

Dawn

Early Morning

Mid-Morning

Late Morning

Noon

Early Afternoon

Mid-Afternoon

Late Afternoon

Dusk

Dusk to Dawn, Lover’s Journey Book 2

Meet Alina Popescu

More from Alina Popescu

Acknowledgements

We meet again! And I can see you’re already checking the time, because you know I tend to forget this should be short and sweet. I know your time is precious and you’d very much prefer to get on with the reading of the actual book. I promise some of this might be helpful.

Dawn to Dusk is a fictional story inspired by real places and real people. I even kept some of their names and squeezed in things that happened in real life. It’s an ode to my first crushes, to my childhood adventures, to my home town, my high school years, and my time spent living in Bucharest, from the first year of University until the very last day in the Capital—ten beautiful years.

If you want to guess which events are real, I’d like to play that game and you can always email me. I have to say though, that climbing bit and getting stuck midway? Totally happened. Yeah, I was a bit of an irresponsible tomboy growing up.

The thing about writing stories around events and people in your life is that it gets quite emotional. I was used to that though, if you’ve read my MF vampire series, you’ve read about the main character being based on me. What was surprising about writing Dawn to Dusk was the clarity of my memories. I was taken aback by how detailed memories of over twenty years ago still were. Even some from further back came to me with ease. The downside, as always, was my becoming a sobbing, emotional mess. Hey, tissue companies have to make money somehow, right? Less colds during the summer, so let the crying begin!

The first group of people I would like to thank (maybe I should also apologize while at it) includes all those who’ve inspired the story: the boys I crushed on, my family, and childhood friends. Speaking of childish loves, you know how they say you shouldn’t piss off authors because they’ll do unspeakable things to you in your books? Well, I made my past flames fall in love with each other, so I think they got off easy….

A big, huge thank you, with the must-have tons of hugs and kisses, goes to all the amazing people who’ve helped me along the journey of this book: Aimee Brissay who’s been there to brainstorm this with and alpha-read a few chapters months ago along with Jo Tannah; my editor, LE Fitzpatrick, who pushes me to make my stories better when she’s not busy writing her own amazing stories; Lily Velden, author and friend, who always encourages me to take the craziest literary rides; Alina F, my dear friend and the creative force behind 8th floor studio who’s responsible for the beautiful cover; Alina C, Loredana, Tina, and Adi, my friend family who’s always rooting in my corner.

I’ve never done this one before in my books, but there’s a first for everything. I would like to thank my boyfriend, Mike, for being there along this particularly bumpy ride. Writing this story wasn’t smooth, a lot happened and I ended up sprinting through the second half of the draft. He was there to encourage me, provide evening walks for me to clear my mind, and pretty much use his Voodoo powers to bring my stress levels down.

I am extremely grateful for all the support I’ve received from all my online friends. They read, liked, and gushed about the excerpts I posted online, making me feel my stories are worth telling. And here we are, another story for you to hopefully enjoy!

Before we part (don’t roll your eyes, you’ve almost made it), I’d like to share a few things with you regarding the timeline and setting of Dawn to Dusk. The story starts about three years after the Revolution of December 1989 which overthrew the Communist regime in Romania. There are occasional glimpses of life before the Revolution and how bad things actually were. Reading through these, some of you might understand why my skin crawls every time I hear college students chanting lines from the Communist Manifesto. That said, I tried to focus more on the beauty of childhood. On how free we were and how much time we spent running outside, busying ourselves with what seemed like great adventures at the time.

Unlike Edi, I had to say goodbye to the fun trips to the creek and the forest a lot sooner. Apparently, when we all hit puberty, running around deserted places no longer seemed so appealing. We spent less time at our grandparents. We were older and there were far better things to explore in our home towns. And summer camps to the mountains or the seaside weren’t half-bad either. I always thought I’d missed out because of that. So I let Edi enjoy it more, had him hold on to it a little longer.

One more thing, when they are about eleven, my boys swear. I shaped them to mimic the boys I went to school with. Okay, the girls too, but that doesn’t show up as much in the book. The moment we figured out we could swear, we did. It was a way to assert our independence, act like adults, and explore our freedom. There was a lot of misunderstanding of the word freedom after the Revolution. When it was just us and our friends, we’d swear. We’d never do it in front of an adult though. And make no mistake, it was worse in Romanian. I debated whether to tone the swearing down for like a second. I decided that in this case realism should trump everything else.

Really done this time! Thank you, dear reader, for picking up this book and wanting to discover the story in it. A bigger thank you for reading through this Acknowledgements bit, you really deserve a medal!

To first loves and to how they twist, bend, and forge our souls.

Dawn

IT WAS HOT LIKE HELL and I was full. I’d stuffed my face in what always seemed like a race: gulp down all the food my grandma put in front of me, drink some water, take a quick piss, and run outside again. No time to waste. Every day brought me closer to the inevitable: school would start again. There was never enough time to enjoy my freedom.

I stepped through the doorway—the door itself was removed in the summer. Long strands of colorful plastic were the only thing separating the outside from the inside of the summer kitchen. They were there to keep the flies away, but failed more often than not. I jumped over the sidewalk and into the thick grass covering the yard all the way to the vines crawling up rusty iron frames. The frames and my grandma’s handiwork guided the vines up and all the way across to the roof. They gave a little shade, along with the huge plum tree, enough to make the afternoons and mornings bearable. Not enough to brave a meal outside at lunch time though. July was just too hot for that.

Burnt by the sun, the grass had lost its vibrant green color, yellow tinging the edges of the strands. It still wasn’t as hot as the concrete of the sidewalk. I walked slowly through it, enjoying the sensation of it brushing against my bare feet. Ah, this was the life! Wearing nothing but a pair of battered shorts all day. I’d only throw on a T-shirt in the late evening when it got cooler, maybe even don my flip-flops to make sure I didn’t step in any goose shit by mistake.

I loved summers at my grandma’s. Total freedom to roam all day long, no nagging, no frowns over who I played with. So much more relaxed than my other set of grandparents! They were teachers and had an image to uphold. There, I was required to stay inside, work on never-ending homework, and not play with anyone of a lower station. Unfortunately, the only boys my age in that stupid village were some gypsy kids and the daughter of the guy who took care of the village’s cattle; not very impressive families. So it was no surprise my grandmother on my father’s side called her son in tears, fearing I’d run away with that snotty girl. Like I wanted to! I was ten for god’s sake. If the village weren’t so poor in children my age, I wouldn’t have been caught dead near a girl.

I was older now, though. I was eleven. And thanks to my parents’ divorce, I came to spend the summer here, with my mom’s mom. I didn’t even sulk for two days before coming here. Sure, it sucked we had to take the train—three long hours in an oven on wheels. When we went to the other grandparents, my dad drove us there. We’d first come here for always-too-short visits, and then they’d drop my ass at my summer-long prison. Twenty kilometers between total boredom and this heaven on earth.

As I got closer to the gate, I heard voices and the unmistakable thump and bounce of a ball being kicked around. I perked up and started walking faster. One of the voices was definitely that of Tatiana, my neighbors’ granddaughter. One of the many they had. Maybe I’d get to play with her and whoever else was there.

The gate screeched loudly when I pulled it open, announcing my approach. Not that anyone cared. Two boys where playing in the middle of the road—our favorite playground—while Tatiana was laughing at them and taunting. She was sitting on the bench next to her grandparents’ gate. It was the best bench on this side of the street. Shaded by a huge sour cherry tree, large enough to sit three or four kids, and if you stood up on it, you could reach the fruity goodness on the lower hanging branches.

Tatiana was bent forward, enthralled by the boys’ game. Her feet were dangling in the air, she was too short to reach all the way down. Like us boys, she wasn’t wearing a top. She wasn’t even wearing shorts, just a pair of bright white underpants that stood out against her dark tanned skin. She was way too young to have anything to cover anyway. Her shoulder length hair was messy and some strands kept getting into her mouth as she spoke. I probably would have had the same annoying problem if my hair hadn’t been pulled back in a tight ponytail.

Edi! Tatiana yelled and jumped off the bench, running all the way to me and jumping in my arms.

I caught her, barely, and managed not to fall on my ass. I wanted to scold her, but I secretly was pleased by her warm welcome. I didn’t have any siblings, and her almost worshiping me made me feel like a beloved older brother. Like the guys in the anime I sometimes watched at my best friend’s house back home.

What you doing, squirt? I ruffled her hair and let her slide down. She put great effort into holding on, but she still slithered all the way to the burning sidewalk.

Nothin’, just watchin’ these two bozos play. They won’t let me play with them, she said, shrugging dejectedly and pouting.

I laughed and put my arm around her shoulders and walked her back to the bench. It’s too hot anyways. I’ll play with you later.

You will? Yay! She started jumping around me and didn’t stop long after I’d sat down.

Once Tatiana settled, I looked at the boys playing in front of us. One of them was her cousin, Nicu. Older than her, but a couple of years younger than me. The other boy I didn’t know. He was clearly older and he looked all put together. For one, he had shoes on. His T-shirt was still on too, which seemed stupid to me. It was hot and he’d only soak it in sweat while kicking the ball.

I took him in, observing the way his muscles bulged as he strained to kick the ball back into Nicu’s court. They were playing a game we called foot tennis. I’d never gotten the name but sure as hell loved it. It was played in a sort of a simplified tennis court. No net though, nobody had that! We’d just draw it with some chalk on the road. Or even a broken brick when we ran out of chalk. Up to three people could play on one team, but most times we played one on one. It meant we didn’t need to bother to draw very large fields for it.

The older boy missed and the soccer ball went right by him, stopping in the ditch in between the road and the sidewalk. The geese it disturbed protested loudly, but they settled fast. It was too hot to chase the kids, I suppose.

Go get it, the boy said, propping his hands on his hips and smirking at Nicu.

Oh, come on, Robert! It’s your fault, you go get it. Nicu crossed his arms over his chest and stood his ground. I nodded inwardly, he was in the right.

It’s too hot, I don’t want to run around after your stupid ball.

I don’t want to either, Nicu shot back, a whiny edge to his voice.

Fine, then I don’t wanna play anymore, Robert said, calm and still grinning mockingly at Nicu.

No, you said you’d play with me!

And you said you’ll be the one running after the ball. Robert shrugged and made to leave the makeshift court.

No, wait! I’ll go get it, Nicu said, already running past Robert and heading for the ball. The geese ran out of his way, making those god-awful noises that grated on my nerves and fluttering their wings.

What a big jerk. I frowned at the new boy and he must have noticed because he tilted his head and stared at me. His smirk still in place, he winked before returning his attention to the game.

Who’s that other kid playing with Nicu? I asked after bumping my shoulder into Tatiana’s to get her attention.

That’s our cousin, Robert, she said, smiling all adoringly at him. He’s from Bucharest.

I rolled my eyes at that tidbit. Just great, another brat from the capital! The other Bucharest kid was staying with the neighbors on the other side of my grandma’s house. He was full of himself, he had a funny walk, and I wanted to punch him right in the face every time I saw him. What was it with these kids from the Capital, anyway? They thought they were better than the rest just because of the city they’d been born into.

Robert and Nicu played until the younger one was thoroughly defeated. Nicu begged Robert for a rematch, but he refused. Holding the ball against his right hip, he turned to face me. What about you, kid? Wanna be the next one I beat?

I wanted to tell him where to shove that ball of his, but I stopped myself. I probably shouldn’t get into another fight. I might be shipped to the other grandparents