Clarisse David

Sassy Young Adult Romantic Comedies

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I write YA romance and love romance novels, Netflix TV shows and BTS. Read more.

Hi! I'm Clarisse David.

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Excerpt | Keeping the Distance by Clarisse David

Keeping the Distance will be out in less than two weeks! Right now, it's on sale for 0.99. The price will go up to 2.99 on February 6, 2017. If you want to grab a copy, I suggest you go get one now. *wink. wink. nudge. nudge* CLICK HERE.

Anyway, I thought I'd share an excerpt from the book with you today. It's a scene that literally made me laugh out loud while I was writing it.

Here it is:


“Sorry, but being another notch on your bedpost isn’t my lifelong ambition.” Melissa didn’t even bother to turn around. She merely leaned back on her chair and crossed her arms over her chest, the movement bringing her neck closer to his face.

The smell of lavender struck him with sudden force. His eyes were drawn once more to the constellation-shaped moles on her neck and wandered down to the vague outline of a bra clasp showing through her white blouse. That outline alone tilted his world on its axis.

If she could tell what he was thinking, she was going to wrap her fancy braid around his neck and simply pull.

He cleared his throat and shook his head even if she couldn’t see him. “I never said being a notch on my bedpost was your lifelong ambition, just your deepest, darkest fantasy.”

A squeak of indignation escaped Melissa’s lips, and the gravity in his world was restored. They were back on equal footing as her cheeks turned red.

His eyes were back on her neck again. He wasn’t doing himself any favors by sitting there and ogling her neck, like a thirteen-year-old who was getting his first look at a real pair of boobs.

Needing to get a grip on himself, he attempted to go talk to one of his teammates who sat a few rows away. Attempted was the keyword. He pushed himself off his chair, but it wouldn’t budge. It had attached itself to his slacks, some sort of superglue seeping through the fabric and latching onto his skin.

“You did this,” he said to the back of Melissa’s head, unable to keep the reluctant admiration out of his voice.

This time, she deigned to glance at him over her shoulder. Her face the picture of innocence, she said, “Prove it.”


But all the smugness evaporated from her face when Mr. Rodriguez, their Physics teacher, walked into the room. No matter how smart you thought you were, there was always one thing you overlooked when you were new to the art of troublemaking.

Melissa forgot to plan for the aftermath. It showed in the way she nervously doodled in her notebook, each stroke leaving a deep dent on the pages. He didn’t have much of a choice since he was glued to his seat, but he was going to enjoy the coming fireworks show.

In fact, he was going to milk every minute of it.

Mr. Rodriguez soon filled the blackboard with equations and formulas that barely made sense to any of them. When he noticed that most of their eyes were glazing over, he stopped, his gaze bouncing around the room in search of his next target. His eyes locked on Lance. “Mr. Ordonez, you seem to be uncharacteristically quiet today. Why don’t you go to the front of the room and regale us with your answer to this problem?”

Lance knew as much about the class discussion as he did about his father’s daily life in Manila.
Absolutely nothing.

He gained a sense of satisfaction when Melissa’s face turned as white as the notebook page she was writing on, knowing full well he couldn’t stand up without dragging his chair to the front of the room.

“I’d love to, Mr. Rodriguez, but I can’t.” Lance tried to keep his voice even. He watched Melissa’s grip tighten on her pen, her knuckles turning white with exertion.

“And why not? Can’t you grace us mere mortals with your presence?” Mr. Rodriguez raised his bushy eyebrows.

“Melissa’s beauty is binding me to my seat.”

It wasn’t that far from the truth.

Under other circumstances and with any other teacher, the class would’ve tittered with laughter by that point, but their Physics teacher was like some dark, pulsating thing that sucked joy out of the atmosphere.

No one even dared to smile.

“I’m not kidding.” Mr. Rodriguez said, narrowing his eyes. “Come here and answer this problem before I make you.”

He shook his head. “I can’t.”

“Well, then, I don’t have a choice, Mr. Ordonez.” Mr. Rodriguez’s face hardened, a line forming between his eyebrows. “Get out of my classroom.”

He scratched the back of his head, looking at his teacher in exasperation. “I can’t do that, either.”
Then class went so still you could hear people breathing. It was common knowledge that no one in his more than twenty years of teaching had ever defied Mr. Rodriguez. The man had no mercy when it came to failing students and was quite trigger-happy with his red pen.

“And why not?” A dangerous look glinted in Mr. Rodriguez’s eyes. He started bouncing a stick of chalk in his left hand, almost salivating at the prospect of kicking him out of Saint Agnes Catholic Academy.

Lance had no other choice but to tell the truth. He sighed. “Because, Mr. Rodriguez, I happen to be glued to my chair.”


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