Missed
connections and might-have-beens are great romance novel fodder. Summer
romances and flings? Even better! Let me tell you about one of the best pick-up
lines I have ever had the good fortune to receive.
The
summer of 1995 was a scorcher. Temperatures in the mid-to-upper 90s and high
humidity. So, naturally, I elected to spend the hottest two weeks of it at a
campground in Pennsylvania, wearing layers of medieval garb.
Every
August, the Society for Creative Anachronism (SCA), a medieval recreation
group, hosts a mock tournament and war called the Pennsic War. 1995 was the
first, and alas only, year I was able to attend. In addition to battles and all
other things medieval and military, there are medieval arts and crafts (my
favorites were music and dance) and lots of partying.
The
year I was there, there were also—and this is the important part—two swimming
areas. One was designated the family swimming hole, the other, the classic
swimming hole. I’m not sure why it was a classic, but I do know this: it was
clothing-optional.
Did
I mention it was hot that year? And that I was in layers of heavy cotton and
linen? Being young and impetuous, when my friends said they were going swimming
at the classic swimming hole, I decided to go along. It took all my courage to
shuck my skirt and my bodice and my chemise and my underwear and go wading into
the water. Which felt, by the way, like absolute heaven.
So
there I was, in water up to my shoulders, when up walks (swims?) an absolutely gorgeous man. Green eyes, curly brown
hair, nice smile. We started chatting (okay, I was flirting), and he suddenly says, “You have the most amazing
blue eyes.”
As
is my usual MO when someone I’m flirting with starts flirting back, I panicked.
To this day I don’t know how I managed to keep from ducking under the water and
running away.
He
said his name was Taran, and he was from (alas
again) Seattle. We promised to meet up later that night for dancing at the
barn. As he was leaving, one of my friends leaned over and said, “You’re
standing naked in front of him, and he compliments your eyes. Now that’s a gentleman!”
Even
better, when we found each other at dancing that night, the first thing he
blurted was, “You look different with your clothes on!” (And he was, to my
delight, a fantastic dance partner.)
Well,
with him in Seattle and me in Michigan, it could never be anything more than a
Pennsic flirtation. We promised to email, but neither of us really did. That
was twenty years ago now (!), and I’ve never forgotten him. In these days of
Facebook, you’d think I’d try to look him up, but for one thing: SCA members
commonly have a medieval name they go by rather than their modern real names. I
never learned Taran’s real name, and he never learned mine. My own real-life
missed connection.
In
my upcoming book, As Lost As I Get,
itinerant doctor Zoe Rodriguez and CIA operative Lee Wheeler have a very
different sort of missed connection. They meet when he’s sent in to rescue her
from kidnappers in Mexico, and there’s no time for romance. After spending two
years apart thinking of each other, they get a second chance in a remote corner
of Colombia. Of course, second chances are never simple, especially not when
both of them have jobs that put them in the center of danger.
Despite
the danger, they find the time to reconnect. And thanks to the heat, they
manage to find time for a little skinny-dipping of their own.
I had a blast writing their story—I hope you’ll enjoy
it. And Taran: if you’re out there reading this, Facebook me!
Lisa
Nicholas is the author of The Farther I Fall and As Lost As I Get. If she’s not writing,
she’s feeding her story addiction any way she can: raiding Netflix, pillaging
her local bookstore and library, and (most recently) tearing her way through
the comics archive at Marvel.
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