Title: FATE AND OTHER GAMES
Genre: YA Contemporary
Word Count: 62,000
18-year-old Tuesday Ford is known in her tiny Southern town for flirting with cute customers at the diner, dancing in her favorite cowboy boots, and singing karaoke with her best girls. If anyone asks, she’s totally over the car accident that nearly killed her two years ago. As for also 18-year-old Alex Belikova, his life philosophy is say yes—to hot girls, to free drinks, and to crappy old cars he’s (almost) certain he can fix up. Ever since his uncle’s sudden death he’s been too busy saying yes to actually deal with his grief.
After embarking on the road trip he'd planned with his uncle, Alex stumbles into Tuesday's diner. With her propensity for flirting and Alex’s inability to say no (especially to a girl with a smile like Tuesday’s), it’s not long before a boring night takes a turn for the better.
Tuesday takes Alex out in search of fun, and they end up at a wild party—but their fun is cut short when the cops descend. In the ensuing madness Tuesday loses Alex, and soon she’s stranded in the middle of nowhere, alone, while Alex is left wondering where she’s gone and how he’s ever going to find her. Now they have to figure a way out of a crazy mess—but in order to do that, they’ll need to confront the paralyzing fears and sorrows that they've been keeping deep inside.
“Welcome to Lola Vee’s.”
Her voice came like honey rolling over broken glass, dark and rough and syrupy all at the same time. Sexy.
It rolled straight through Alex, setting his nerves on edge in the best possible way. He snapped his gaze from Dexter, who was glaring at him from the other side of the booth, to the waitress standing there expectantly.
“My name is Tuesday,” she continued, that voice spilling out of the brightest red lips. “And I’ll be your waitress this evening. Can I get y’all any drinks?”
Evan, sitting on Alex’s other side, rubbed a hand over his buzzcut, his mouth still open from the last barb he’d been throwing Dexter’s way. “Uh…a vanilla shake. Please.”
Dexter sighed. “Lemonade, please. Lots of ice.”
Alex stared, spellbound. He couldn’t remember what they’d been arguing about—gas money? Dexter’s boring schedule? Whatever it was, it didn’t matter anymore.
How long could he watch without being caught? She looked straight out of the fifties—the rough and ready side, not the prim-and-proper side—with platinum blonde hair up in this big quiff thing, eyes pale green against dark make-up, and those lips. Oh, those red lips.
The waitress turned to Alex, finally. “And you?”
“I’ll take a Coke,” he said. Had she felt his eyes on her? The corners of her mouth turned up in a hint of a smile, suggesting she had – and that maybe, she didn’t mind.
“Y’all ready to order or you want me to give you a minute?”