It’s a lazy, rainy Saturday morning here at Blogging on the Brink – a perfect time to cuddle up with Adrian Graves, my hero in Louder Than Love. As promised, here is another deleted scene from Adrian’s POV.  It takes place after the ‘dinner with a side of epinephrine’ episode. As Kat ponders why her answering machine has been silent for an entire week, we get to peek inside Adrian’s head.

The Saturday snippet happens before Kat goes to dinner at Marissa’s (‘Lost in Translation’ chapter), and the Sunday addendum takes place right before Adrian runs into Kat and Abbey on the Central Park bike path. I had fun writing these scenes for many reasons:

The football (soccer) match Adrian is watching actually happened that very day, and his internal commentary follows the actual plays in the game.

I love how Adrian makes little bets with himself to work up his nerve to call Kat. I think it’s something we’ve all done to psych ourselves up (or out) of things!

Saturday morning, May 1, 2004 – Chelsea v. Southampton:

If Chelsea wins, I will call her.

Who am I kidding, they haven’t won the last five games! What kind of odds does that give me?

OK, if Chelsea scores a goal in the next ten minutes, I will call her.

Or maybe email is better. Not as intrusive, gives her time to think of a reply.

Oy, Southampton with an own goal! Cranie just put the ball in his own net, the wanker!

Alright, Chelsea needs to actually score a goal themselves and THEN I will ring her up.

Or email her.

She probably won’t even be home, it’s a beautiful Saturday. Only losers sit home on a day like this…or football fans. No, COME ON don’t let ‘em in…YES, Cudicini with a point blank save, awright! Come on, you Blues!

It’s only been a week. Don’t want to seem too desperate, right? YEAH LAMPARD SCORES! Chelsea 2, Southampton zip, zero, nil, nada. Do I hear Champion’s League?

Alright, I will definitely call her after the game. She seemed open to the idea, I think? She was really cute. Especially in that get-up whilst making pancakes. Fook yes, Lampard again! Chelsea’s going to win and I am going to call her. It’s not too early for a celebratory beer, is it? There we go.

I could email her, maybe send her a shrimp joke. Show her I’ve got a sense of humor. AND GLEN JOHNSON ADDS A FOURTH! This calls for a kip down to Nevada Smith’s…Jason will be there and looking to raise a pint!

I’ll call her tonight. Definitely.

Sunday, May 2, 2004:

You pathetic tosser.

Splitting hangover, it’s me own fault. I did fuck-all yesterday.

Alright, I am going to call her. Not this moment, it’s only 9am. But I will.

 If I can flip this egg over perfectly in the frypan I will call her and ask her to dinner.

Dammit, that was the last bloody egg, wasn’t it? I’m a right numpty.

Sod it, I’m going out for a bike ride.

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