Fresh FIction Box Not To Miss
Cole McCade | Exclusive Excerpt: JUST LIKE THIS
Author Guest / November 24, 2020

Damon Louis couldn’t quite believe Rian Falwell had just thrown a f*cking balled-up paper towel at his head, like they were in grade school trading spitballs. But then he couldn’t believe Falwell was staring at him like he’d happily gut Damon, too, his imperious little pale mouth twisted in a knot and his previously bone-white cheeks flushed with anger that reflected in glittering hazel eyes. People didn’t glare at Damon. They didn’t even make eye contact. But Falwell didn’t have the slightest qualms about glaring at him, standing there like the lord of his five by five domain, slender presence bristling fit to fill the tiny cubicle he’d commandeered as his… Damon didn’t even know what to call it. Studio. Workroom. Junk closet. Dumpster. Especially when Falwell had cluttered it wall to wall with kitsch, this kind of…whirlwind of clay and paint and pictures and deli­cate bits of papercraft that fit together in a bizarre aesthetic chaos, where it all coalesced in an esoteric pattern like some strange art installation in and of itself. While Rian himself was part of it, lit in white and amber by the single naked bulb hanging from the ceiling and the golden sunlight falling…

Cole McCade | Exclusive Excerpt: JUST LIKE THAT
Author Guest / July 3, 2020

“You don’t want me, Summer,” he said firmly. “I’m quite old, used-up, and I don’t even know how to be with someone anymore.” “I don’t think that’s true,” Summer murmured. “Isn’t it?” Silence, before Summer said slowly, “Maybe I’m wrong. . .  I’m probably wrong. Or maybe you were a good enough teacher that I can figure some things out. But either way, I think you shut yourself away while you needed to…but your protective walls turned into a cage when you didn’t need them anymore, and now you can’t find your way out.” Shut yourself away while you needed to. The simple memory of just why he’d shut himself away cut deep, digging down to a tiny pain that lived at his heart. He’d made it tiny deliberately, so he could compact it down into a thing so small it could fit in the palm of his hand, all of that agony crushed down into nothing so that he could never touch too much of it at any one time, its surface area barely the size of a fingerprint. And then he’d tucked it away, burying it down where he couldn’t reach it. But those simple words threatened to…