My Inspiration for After the Snow Melts:
There are a lot of First Nations communities north of where I live. These are fly-in places, or you can access them through what is known as a “winter road” or “ice road.” In other words, you have to wait for the bazillion lakes to freeze over in northern Ontario to drive your vehicle up to a community. You drive over lakes and woodlands. And it’s a very long drive.
Because these places are remote, education can be tricky at times. Some reserves have schools that go up to grade ten or grade twelve, while others don’t. This means the youth who are starting high school have to relocate for the school year to a township or city that can provide them with their education requirements.
I wanted to have a character relocate from his northern community and experience culture shock. This is what happens to Elliot Wasacase, my hero for After the Snow Melts. He’s an Ojibway from a northern Ontario reserve and is mentored by a local elder who urges Elliot to be “true to himself,” something Elliot is miserably failing at when the story commences.
I also enjoy rich boy/poor boy tropes, so this was my inspiration for Bryan Dechamps, a rich, popular boy who befriends Elliot when Elliot moves to Thunder Bay to acquire his secondary education.
Because I wanted to strand them on the mountain, and since I adore the eighties, I thought setting the story during such a decadent era would be fun. Besides the rich boy/poor boy trope, I wanted them to also have a huge difference in pop culture. Bryan is a “waver,” meaning a person who is into the music of new wave and fashion, while Elliot is a “metalhead,” dressing in torn jeans, white high tops, ankle-tight jeans, leather jacket, and band t-shirts.
I love when two people clash musically, culturally, and socially. They both have different beliefs, but they do share one thing in common—their admiration and attraction for one another.
I hope you enjoy the story. It was much fun to write.
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The bathroom door opened. Gavin eased into the hallway. He clutched a white napkin. He stood sideways, his sports coat laid over the crook in his arm. His lean muscles filled out his navy-blue shirt. Yep, someone had been hitting the gym. Gavin had probably hired a personal trainer when he’d lived in Winnipeg. His pants, not too tight and not too loose, snuggled his legs that had once been skinny but now filled out the plush gray material.
Gavin swiveled on his black shoe, glancing over his shoulder. No, not a glance. His heavy-lidded eyes burned into Slade. Searing him until his mouth dried.
The napkin fell to the floor.
Reality slapped Slade’s face cold, and fire crackled in his veins. Who did this asshole think he was, blatantly tossing garbage around while he stood watching?
Gavin kept gazing at him while he shifted one leg over the other. The sound of his heels clicking against the floor echoed off the walls.
Slade gritted his teeth. Was Gavin daring him to get mad, going to throw around his newfound power if Slade told the high and mighty chief to bend the hell over and pick that damned napkin off the floor?
Gavin’s dark eyed gaze continued to cut into Slade, as if sharing a secret. There wasn’t a hint of smug satisfaction. Only a potent, seductive invitation.
A man had needs. Slade swallowed. And he wasn’t about to get laid on the rez, no matter if the population clocked in at eight hundred members.
With one final lingering peek, Gavin disappeared inside his office.
Slade’s breathing hitched. The lightness in his chest twisted until his lungs clenched. He ought to leave the napkin on the floor and find out what Gavin had to say about that. Slade set the mop handle aside. If he ignored the trash, the band manager would call him out.
He trounced to the washroom door and leaned down, swiping up the napkin, but the plush material melting into his palm didn’t resemble a napkin. Then what the…? He turned the garment over. His throat clamped shut. Underwear. He was holding Gavin’s underwear. And the hip-cut shorts weren’t the kind a guy bought at Bargain Bob’s for the cost-saving price of five for ten dollars. This wasn’t cotton or silk, either. Something else.
His spine twitched.
He craned his neck to the open door leading to Gavin’s office.
Slade squashed the light fabric in his hand. When he released his grip, the underwear expanded slightly.
The tips of his fingers burned as he pinched the shorts and spread out the briefs from corner to corner. His stomach constricted. A mere few seconds ago, Gavin had removed his pants to slip out of this baby. He’d exposed his cock. Exposed his balls. Exposed his ass.
Slade clenched his eyes shut. He loathed the vision, but it appeared anyway—fingers flirting with a button, the zrup of a zipper being lowered, stiff cock shoved against the flimsy material of the shorts, and long legs easing out of the gray pants.
Had the thought of stripping from his underwear excited Gavin? Had he left his excitement on his underwear?
Slade drew the shorts to his face, burying his nose in the rich material. As the heavy aroma concealed in a man’s pubes claimed his nostrils, his knees shook. Gavin’s scent. Thick with musk. Powerful with sweat.
The food Bryan had packed away gurgled in his stomach. He grabbed the napkin and wiped his mouth. His salty tongue and dry throat begged for moisture. He lifted the cola from the cup holder, never leaving Elliot’s intense look.
Something crackled between them—a tinge of tension that had been building from the moment they’d met in gym class during the first semester, both assessing one another up and down, panting after a game of basketball while sweat had glistened on their skins. The same heat from that moment coated Bryan’s flesh.
It didn’t matter the temperature was quickly dropping. Nothing could dispel the warmth flowing through his blood. His beating heart seemed to sit in his throat. “Maybe you should ask.”
The fire in Elliot’s eyes flickered out. “Ask who?”
“Ask whoever you think sent the card.”
“Uh…” Elliot shifted and glanced away. He crumbled up his food containers and stuffed them inside the bag. “I can’t ask. I’d look like a total tool asking everyone at school if they sent me a card.”
“But you have an idea who sent it, don’t you?”
The familiar shade of pink claimed Elliot’s cheeks. “Um…no.” He threw open the door. “I need a dart.”
Bryan also got out since he couldn’t smoke in the car because Dad always did his sniff check. He headed to the wooden railing where Elliot had left his boot prints in the ankle-length snow. Even the spruce trees were weighed down with white.
The sky wasn’t visible because of the storm. The flakes were harsh smacks of ice on Bryan’s face. He reached inside his jacket for his own pack of cigarettes, keeping his head ducked and hood up to ward off the chill of the wind.
“Well?” he asked while sliding the cigarette between his lips. He kept his back to the fierce snowfall.
Elliot moved beside him, also turning his back on the storm. “Well what?”
“Who do you think sent you the cards? Dedicated the song to you?” Bryan was walking on a tightrope, but considering he’d never gotten a sucker punch to the face or heard Elliot sneer at the tokens of admiration, it was apparent he didn’t mind that a dude was digging on him.
“You keep bugging me about this. Never let up.” Elliot’s voice shook. “I…I…”
“I never heard you listen to a ballad before.” To quell his shaking insides, Bryan took a drag off the cigarette. The nicotine did its job and slowed the fierce rapids of angry white water his blood had become thundering through his veins.
“I…I…I think it’s you.” Elliot’s words came out slow and soft.
The blood slowed to a halt. Finally, what Bryan had begged for, wished for, prayed for, was in the open—and it was up to him to respond.
Thee look good. The covers are great and the post makes me want more
Hi Debra. I’m glad you enjoyed the post. TY for commenting. It’s much appreciated. 🙂
Thank you to the bloggers at Love Bytes for hosting me. I really appreciate it. 🙂
I just got After the Snow Melts.
Thank you for the post. They both look great .
These sound amazing!