Free V-Day by annehollywriter

“
V’ Day.”
    Smashwords Edition
    by
    Anne Holly
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
    Copyright 2011 to Anne Holly
    No part of this work can be copied without
the authors permission.
    Published By: Wicked Nights
    www.afterdark.wickednights.info
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     

     
     
     
     
    What could one say about Daniel Vouks? He
always felt he was a tiger trapped in a nerd’s body. But, sadly,
the tiger was very well hidden.
    Tall and lean, having grown too much
vertically before his wiry frame could fill out horizontally, he
carried very little excess weight. What was there wasn’t bad, he
would often reassure himself, sneaking guilty peeks at himself in
the tacky 1980s white-framed full length mirror nailed to the
inside of the door in his childhood bedroom. He was pleased to
notice the hours of practice he was putting in were actually
sprouting some newbie biceps and pecks and he was starting to lose
that “chicken chest” look. After considering this, he would usually
laugh at himself with embarrassment. His one man Mr. Universe
competition in front of the mirror took on a comedic air of
ridiculousness, in his white boxers and black socks, against the
backdrop of the cowboy wallpaper that hadn’t been changed since he
was seven.
    Daniel hoped he wasn’t
hideous to females. Secretly, aside from his aspirations in school
and with his music, his dream of being something less than
offensive to the opposite sex was his main goal. He didn’t think he
was bag-over-the-head homely (though he did worry about those ears
that everyone always told him he’d grow into, and that chin). He
had always wanted a lantern jaw, but admitted in defeat his was
more like a desk lamp jaw – something much less rugged and
outdoorsy than a lantern, that’s for sure. Other than those two
weak spots, he did show potential. His body’s leanness translated
into artistic intensity in his face, with his light olive skin tone
and large, deep set, black and heavily lashed eyes with prominent
brows. A thick growth of short curly hair that he was never able to
tame and a timeless pair of wire framed glasses topped it all off.
Forget about Redford, he sighed; he looked more like an extra from
a small town production of Fiddler on the
Roof . Great teeth, though, he decided,
ending on a positive note. And they should be, the money his
parents had put into them.
    “Ssssssssssexay!” he hissed with a
self-depreciating grin and wink, having done as much as he could
with his wayward pelt, and threw on his cords and a sweater.
Somewhere between Franz Kafka and Harry Potter, he guessed he
wasn’t likely to cause mass hysteria amongst the fairer sex, but
there was always tomorrow.
    Hunching down to avoid braining himself on
the slanted ceiling, he slipped on his shoes. Only in the peculiar
logic of his family would the tallest member naturally occupy the
attic room, making him live a good portion of his life slouched
over.
    Living at home during university had been a
very wise financial move, he had to acknowledge, but at the cost of
other things – especially his sanity and a social life. He’d
survived nineteen years as an inmate in his mother’s funny farm so
far. Two and a half years left, he sighed. By the end, he would
either be brilliantly eccentric or entirely crazy and eating his
food with blunt utensils only. Either way, at least he wouldn’t
have any student debt.
    “Mornin’, Dad,” Daniel greeted his father,
an older, shorter and fatter version of himself who was hardly ever
seen without being partially obscured by his omnipresent newspaper.
As every day, he received the typical non-angry, yet not
overly-friendly, “Hurumpf,” in response and he continued on to the
fridge. Orange juice and an English muffin. Just like every
day.
    “Hello, Danny, sweetie,” his mom, already
dressed to teach music at the local junior high in her constant
uniform of pin-neat A-line skirt, blouse and fuzzy,