So Long, Farewell

My dear readers and followers,

To be quite honest, I have no idea how to properly begin this blog post.

After much pondering and deep contemplation, I've decided to go on a hiatus from the blogging world.

I'm not sure if this break will be a few months or several years long.

After 25 months, 445 posts, and 42,828 page views, I have decided to say goodbye to Leggings Love.

For the past six months or so, I haven't felt like my heart has been in this blog. I never wanted blogging to feel like a chore. It was always something I truly loved and enjoyed doing, and unfortunately, I've reached a point in my life where this isn't the case anymore.

Another major factor in my decision is that I'd like to use the time I normally spend blogging on my novel instead.

I keep imagining Annabelle twiddling her thumbs in "Bingley Books" while John Rodriguez journeys closer to becoming a priest.

And I can't let that happen...or can I?

Anyways.

I will always be thankful for the wonderful friendships I've made through Blogger. 

Claire- I hope we continue to Gmail about the royals, wedding registries, and my tumultuous love life (among many other things). I love no one else's cat as much as yours, and I am eternally amazed at how similarly our minds work!

Ivana- Do you know how often I wonder if we were separated at birth? You are my European soul sister, and I don't know what I would do without your kind words and perpetually wise (and thoughtful) advice. I know we will meet up someday- whether it's getting a cup of tea in New York or eating crepes together in Paris, I am sure it will be lovely!

Jenn, Faith, EAS, Meghan- You four women have given me such amazing advice over the years! Thank you for always leaving me such sweet comments and coaching me along through my early twenties. 

Leah- Thank you for being such an amazing friend and pen pal to me from the very start (two whole years ago!). I feel like we actually know one another, and it always mind-boggles me that we've never actually met before. 

Fais- I'll never forget how you totally hooked me up with that fantastic Kate Spade paint brush clutch! ;) I could not get over how much trouble you went through to get that clutch in my possession- merci, merci, dear friend!

Caitlin- Someday, we really must meet up and go get our Harry Potter tattoos together :) It was so awesome having another English major friend to confide in and (very occasionally of course!) commiserate with!

Thank you all, my wonderful followers and readers, for faithfully keeping up with my little blog and pretending that my writing was actually good or even occasionally clever. I'll always cherish your sweet words and comments, and I am so glad that the last two years of my life will forever be chronicled on Legging's Love.

It's been a total blast, and I know I'll miss it.

I'm going to leave you with one last excerpt from my novel. I hope you enjoy it!*

Love,
Jenna

*It's a somewhat steamy scene. So seriously- enjoy it. Sorry Mum. Also- ignore any weird formatting or weird errors. Blogger can be difficult sometimes, and as for the writing errors...I am just going to plead first draft woes.

-*-

“You are not being creepy. You are not being creepy.” I mumbled to myself as I walked towards St. Rita’s that late September evening. I looked down at the Tupperware container full of homemade chocolate chip scones I was holding and sighed. “Oh my God. I am such a creep.”

            I stopped in the middle of the sidewalk and took a deep, rich breath of the autumn air. Looking up at the yellow, orange, and red leaves above, I couldn’t help but smile.

Fall was such a magical time of year.

            I continued on my way to the church, continuously telling myself that the scones were a lovely gesture of friendship, and how I would feel completely normal bestowing baked goods upon any close acquaintance of mine. It was not flirty or romantic. It was friendly.

            Just a few weeks earlier, Margot had baked me blueberry muffins, and I certainly had not accused her of harboring a lesbian crush on me.

            Friends made each other baked goods. That was simply a fact.

            When I arrived at the rectory, I confidently pressed the doorbell and waited patiently on the doorstep. The welcome mat beneath me was worn but appeared to have once bore the image of a resurrected Christ. The blazing sun behind him now simply appeared as a faint, orange glow.

            “Annabelle, dear! Hello!”

            “Mrs. Richards. Hi.” I replied, inexplicably shocked that the parish secretary had dared to answer the rectory’s door. “Would you happen to know if, uh, John is here?”

This was worse than calling a boy’s home phone in junior high and having to speak to his parents first.

Mrs. Richards, nosy as ever, planted a freshly manicured hand on her hip and took a closer look at me. She began at my feet, which were outfitted in a pair of gorgeous, brown leather boots (boots she was probably currently deeming too sexual), skimmed past my worn jeans, and stopped her stare at the scones.

Those damn scones.

“And what have you brought in that container there?” She asked bluntly.

“Scones.” I murmured, heat creeping into my cheeks.

“Like those British pastries?” She licked her dry, cracked lips.

Maybe she wasn’t trying to pry into my business. Perhaps she was simply hungry.

“Well, they’re more like cookies. Biscuits, even.”

“Why are you bringing them here, my dear?” Mrs. Richards believed that she could be as frank and rude as she wanted as long as she added ‘my dear’ to whatever she was saying.

Now annoyed, I sighed in exasperation, “Because John told me he has never tried scones, and I wanted to make him some. Okay?”

She rolled her eyes at me and finally opened the door, “No need to get so snippy, Annabelle. Follow me. I believe John is in the MPR. It’s Children’s Bible School night, you know.”

I ignored her glare and dutifully walked behind her, the noise of the parish children growing as we drew closer to the multipurpose room.

Of course, when we finally stepped into the room, an area that looked as though it had been plucked directly from the 1960s, John Rodriguez was nowhere in sight.

“Hmm. That’s strange. Petunia, do you happen to know where John is?” Mrs. Richards called across the room to one of the Children’s Bible School helpers, Petunia Erickson.

“He just left for the grocery! We ran out of milk and are about to have some chocolate cake for Bella’s birthday.” Petunia rubbed a small girl’s shoulder affectionately. “Can I help you with anything? Hey there, Annabelle!”

I nodded kindly towards Petunia, a woman who thrived from involvement in any and every organization. She also made it her mission to memorize every, single parishioner’s name, which I found both endearing and obnoxious.

“Annabelle wants him. She made him scones.” Mrs. Richards announced my business across the entire room. I couldn’t help but notice more than a few adult heads turn curiously in my direction.

“I do not want him.” I mumbled, absolutely humiliated.

“Well, he should be back any minute now. Want to play hide and seek with us in the meantime?” Petunia asked sweetly, pretending that this scone-baring gesture of mine was completely normal.

I loved Petunia Erickson in that moment, which is why I stupidly agreed to play hide and seek in an ancient Catholic church with twelve children hyped up on Kool-Aid.

Dominic, a small boy with glasses and a buzz cut, graciously volunteered to be “It.” He faced the cinderblock wall and carefully covered his eyes before beginning to shout, “One! Two! Three…”

The kids scattered from the room.

“This way, Annabelle!” A darling girl whispered, motioning me to follow her up a side staircase. She stopped for a second to politely introduce herself. “I’m Frances McCormick, and I’m excellent at hide and seek.”

“I’m Annabelle James,” I whispered back, “and I’m terrible at hide and seek. It makes me nervous!”

“That’s dumb. It’s just a game.” Frances raised her eyebrows at me before pointing to a large, oak door. “Go hide in there. I can’t help you any longer!”

How pathetic.

Stealthily, I opened the door and slid inside. Strangely, I found myself in a bedroom. There was a large, wrought iron bed in the center and two worn nightstands on either side. A hideous lamp stood on one nightstand, a Bible lying beside it.

The room was void of any sort of personalization. No framed photographs from last year’s family Christmas party. No water glass sitting in a puddle on the nightstand. No small pile of neglected laundry. There wasn’t even a phone charger plugged into one of the outlets.

“Ready or not, here I come!” Dominic shouted from somewhere dangerously nearby.

My nerves shot through the roof as I flipped off the lights and dove beneath the red comforter on the bed.

Ha! He would never find me here.

I felt oddly triumphant when I heard small feet pass by in the hall. Dominic had missed me! I was the hide and seek queen!

Buried deep in the comforter, I couldn’t help but breath in a crisp, familiar scent. Dread filled my stomach as I realized whose bed I had hopped into.

And then the unthinkable happened.

The door creaked open and heavy footsteps entered the room, steps belonging to a man.

Not daring to move or even breath, I sent God an urgent prayer, begging him to call his humble servant elsewhere.

As in very, very far away from this bedroom.

He was shuffling around the room. I tried my best to guess what various activities he could be performing, but my total lack of eyesight made the possibilities seem endless. Was that metallic clink the sound of John Rodriguez taking his watch off for the day? Had he made himself an evening cocktail?

As my mind and heart raced, my body remained unbelievably still.

John Rodriguez sat on the edge of his bed. I felt my legs dip down. They were unnervingly close to his ass.

Despite the deafening sound of my pounding heart, I was able to hear him untying his shoes and presumably taking them off for the night. For at least twenty seconds, he didn’t do any moving at all.

He leaned back suddenly, his head hitting me directly in the stomach.

I yelped. He shouted.

“What the hell?” He threw back his comforter in a near panic.

And there I was. Lying in his bed.

My shirt was awkwardly raised above my stomach. My arms felt paralyzed, as they remained completely motionless as my sides. I knew I had a fine layer of perspiration on my forehead and assumed my face was either extremely void of, or extremely filled with, color.

And there he was, standing above me. His shirt off and his belt undone. He had dark tufts of hair on his chest and a firm stomach. A rugged five o’clock shadow covered his face, and I was relieved to see a look of curiosity in his eyes rather than one of anger.

I knew I should be feeling humiliated, awkward, and guilty, and I truly was experiencing a bit of each of those sensations. But most of all, above all else, I felt aroused. I ached for him. I wanted John Rodriguez to bend down and take me into his strong arms. I wanted John Rodriguez to climb on top of me, kissing my mouth and throat before moving his lips down to my exposed stomach.

I took a deep breath and willed my mind to move elsewhere.

“Um, I know this looks really, really strange.” I began weakly, unable to move myself to a sitting position much less a standing one.

“Annabelle. This is beyond strange. Please explain.”

“I was playing hide and seek with the kids. The Bible School ones?”

“Yes. I’m familiar. Go on.”

Oh, why did he have to continue to stare at me that way? And why hadn’t he gone to put his shirt back on? Didn’t he realize how distracting this all was?

“Right. So I was playing hide and seek, and I chose your bedroom for my hiding place. I mean, your bed, if we’re going to be specific here…except I didn’t realize it was your bed. Obviously if I had known, I would have never chosen it as my hiding place…”

Why did he let me continue to babble like this? Why didn’t he just cut me off and save me from my misery?

“I’m sorry. I feel like such a creep.” I finally found the ability to pull my shirt down and sit up, my short legs dangling off the edge of John Rodriguez’s bed.

He studied me a few seconds longer before a wide grin spread across his face. He burst into beautiful laughter, causing the knots in my stomach to loosen.

“It’s pretty creepy,” he conceded. “Actually it is insanely creepy.”

“It was a good hiding place!” I refuted, smiling back at him.

He nodded, “Can’t argue with that one. It’s just…you scared the shit out of me, Annabelle. I thought I had some sort of psycho under my covers for a second there!”

Right then.

“Just a pretty girl.” I flirted before realizing whom I was speaking with. “So yeah. Anyways. I am really sorry, John. I only came over here to bring you scones.”

“Ah, yes. Mrs. Richards told me you brought over cookies.”

“They’re not cookies! They’re scones!”

“She was right- you really are awfully testy tonight.” John Rodriguez smirked as he finally began to redress himself. Thank God.

“You know me. I’m always testy.” I rolled my eyes, watching as John carefully buttoned up his shirt and neatly tucked it into his black slacks.

“Well, I’m going to be really testy if there isn’t any milk in the kitchen to enjoy these famous scones with!” John Rodriguez motioned towards the doorway. “Come on, creep. I think she put them in the kitchen.”

I covered my face as I moaned, “Can we please forget this ever happened? Or at least not mention it to any living soul?”

“Guess I’ll be gossiping in the graveyard then.”

“That’s morbid.”

“At least I don’t hide in other people’s beds…” John raised his eyebrows at me suggestively before leading the way down a set of stairs and into a surprisingly modern kitchen.

“Wow. Fancy.” I said, noticing the granite countertops and rich, cherry cabinets. “Aren’t you supposed to be an advocate of a simple lifestyle?”

“Annabelle. I am studying to be a priest in a church whose leader wears Prada.” John rummaged through a cabinet before retrieving my container of scones. “Seriously though, I’ve heard that this kitchen remodel was a gift to the parish a few years ago. I guess some parishioner who used to work in the kitchen here passed away, and she left money for a kitchen remodel in her will.”

“Shut up. You’re lying.”

“Nope! Scout’s honor.” He held up his hand solemnly before breaking into one of his signature smiles. “Don’t tell me you haven’t designated money in your will for a remodel of the restrooms back in the vestibule! The good Lord knows we need pedestal sinks and marble floors in there.”

“You have it all wrong. I’m leaving money for a luxury renovation of the crying room. I’m thinking plasma screen TVs playing Dora the Explorer and a ball pit. Maybe even a stainless steel fridge full of Juicy Juice.”

We both laughed.

John grabbed a gallon of 2% milk from the real stainless steel refrigerator currently in front of us. He set a tall glass on the counter and began to pour. “Tell me when.”

My whole body seemed to warm at the gesture, but I couldn’t say why.

“When.” I murmured, the glass completely full. “You can never have too much calcium.”

“Technically you can. It’s called hypercalcemia…but I don’t think this generous helping will hurt.” He winked, passing the cool glass over to me, our fingers brushing in the process.

“Show-off. I thought you were a lawyer. Did you manage to fit in some med school, too?”

“Nope. Mom’s a nurse, remember?” I nodded at him. “Plus I may have had a love affair with ice cream at one point in my life, and my mom may have threatened me with this condition if I didn’t slow down on those Häagen-Dazs pints.”

I smiled, taking a bite of one of my scones. I had put in the entire bag of chocolate chips, and the scones had turned out unsurprisingly delicious.

John looked at me seriously before saying, “Alright, Annabelle. Here goes my very first bite of a scone. Ever. Should we be documenting this? Do you have a camera?”

“Stop being dramatic and just eat it.” I mumbled, my mouth full.

He popped one of the smaller scones into his mouth and chewed carefully.

“Mmmm…oh yes. These are awesome.” He grabbed for a second before finishing his first. “What an absolute travesty to ever confuse them with cookies.”

I knew I had a ridiculous smile across my face, but I couldn’t contain my glow in John’s approval.

“Thank you.” He said, suddenly serious.

Our eyes met, and it was all I could do to simply nod in return.