Self-proclaimed weirdo April Hale and the notorious troublemaker Ryder Black have been living side by side for more than ten years. Both never attempted to communicate with each other, but on the night Ryder Black is thrown out by his own father, he...
okay so sorry for the lack of punctuation, and let me tell you something about my decision to combine Quirky Tale of April Hale and Quirky Romantic Queries About Love together:
one: the wattpad formatting made it hard for me to have series
two: the ending of this book really did feel unfinished
three: it frustrated me when there are two books that are obviously better as one gets separated, and when I write, I write with publication *not* as an end-game, and rather with you, my *online* readers as my source of inspirations and motivations. combining both books will make it easier for you to navigate and such blah blah.
four: while this book has really made you get to know april, i don't think i've been fair to Ryder. the second part of the story will delve more into Ryder and what made him *bad* and how their relationship actually going to blossom when faced with a hard time. 27 chapters is not enough. i'll probably have another 30 chapters as the second season of The Quirky Tale of April Hale.
please bear with me. :) and thank you so much for reading and being patient with me.
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one year later after the previous chapter
2.1: Straight Out of the Jungle
After legions of sessions with my etiquette teacher Dr. Lecter (whom I happily announce as a young female with no implication of cannibalism... yet)*1 , I started to get what it was like to be normal. Polite. And, in her words, predictable.
Quite frankly, I just describe the whole ordeal as 'sweating the small stuff 24/7'.
It took me a while to know that when someone offers you their fist, they expect you to first-bump it, not shake it. It took me a while to know that when someone with the opposite gender try to slip a lot of physical contact during our conversations, then he's most likely interested in you in a boy-girl way, and that I should decide whether I was feeling the same.
It took me a while to know (and of course learn), that people do make a use of their facial muscles to express their displeasure and/or happiness, and that there were cues. A lot of them.
Happiness: An open-hearted smile. Creases of crow-feet appear around their eyes.
Sadness: drawn eyebrows. Lips pulled down. Lots of creases around the middle of eyebrows.
Distress: self-hugging, crossed arms. Basically just trying to keep your body close to your body (Dr. Lecter's words, not mine).
And finally, a raging case of horniness: short, audible breath, dilated pupils, and somehow a gap between the lips that never close. Shown quite often by my boyfriend, whom I meet once a week, Ryder Black.
