How To Describe Nervousness In Writing Novels & Stories

Finally, when my body had long gone numb from too much nervousness, I felt the weight on me slowly move, but instead of relief, I felt more nervous, because the familiar hot breath I knew was getting closer… and closer to my face. My body stiffened even more, my eyelashes trembled but my eyes remained closed. My heart beat fastened and my pulse rate increased as if it knew a secret I don’t know. I felt the hot breath move from my chest, then gradually, it moved to my naked neck and this time, my body was stone rock like it had lost all oxygen. I felt the hot breath on my neck. It caressed the spot like it was finding a great spot to snap. It felt dangerous, but the adrenaline was so high tha

I cannot calm the palpitations crashing my nervous system. I'm going to die for a crime I did not commit. The sound of approaching footsteps makes sirens spin in my head. I jump to my feet and rush to the barred cell door, looking left and right, eager to see who's approaching so I can begin my plea of innocence. The footsteps become louder as the person comes closer and when he finally comes to view and I see his face, I almost sprout out a pair of wings and fly away.

I sat on the edge of the bed with my hands twisted in my lap, the tension in the room oppressive. My stomach turns over with nervousness. I've mentally practiced the words a dozen times, but none of them seem to fit. They all feel too frail and helpless to withstand what I'm going to say. With his back to me, Callum stands by the window. Everything feels colder because of the eerie glow provided by the moonlight's long-lasting shadows on the floor. My heart beats steadily in my chest, and the longer the silence lasts, the louder it appears to get.

I said letting the words slide out in a low, menacing rhythm. The corners of her eyes twitched as a lone sweat trickled down her forehead. She was nervous, I could already tell just by merely watching the way her finger twitched in it's grip with the pen, the way she swallowed nervously with red flushed cheeks. "Let me go over the list one more time," she said, causing me to fiddle softly. I flashed one last glance at the list before passing it to her. If anything, I was intrigued by watching her shiver, of watching her try to grip on to the loose ends of their already failing plan.

My heart thumped loudly like it was about to escape through my chest. My body flushed red. Mind spiraling in thoughts. I opened my mouth to speak, but words failed me. My chest was heavy. My stomach churned. He noticed my nervousness. Walked up behind me. Too close, I could feel his body heat curled behind my spine. “Shall I pick for you?” He whispered. His voice…low, like silk, like temptation. My throat went dry. My chest rose heavily as my eyes scanned the objects over and over.

k That’s it. One letter. Lowercase. I almost combust on the spot. If my brain wasn’t already drowning in everything else, I’d march over there and tear into him. K? That’s what he gives me? Not even a full word? Unbelievable. The only solid victory in this mess? I’m clean. Fully, obsessively prepared. The downside? I’m spiraling worse than before which shouldn’t be possible. And I’ve had a realization: nerves and excitement are the same damn thing. No one talks about it, but they are. Dry mouth. Shaky hands. Heart racing. Jumping at nothing.

My body shudders under his low, sultry tone. I want to speak but what the fuck can I say? It feels like my brain is running miles trying to chase the part where my speech comes from. Noting my silence, he breathes a smirk, pushing my chair out while I'm still in it. My breath grows faster as nervousness pools in my belly, making me feel knotty. He stands in front of me, slipping a hand out of his pants and swinging it forward. His cold, thick finger lands on my jaw, caressing it aggressively and softly at the same time.

I can’t live like this; my thoughts are driving me crazy. Twisting the doorknob, I open the door a little and peak my head inside his room. Zen looks up from his laptop screen and stares at me with a blank expression. “Can I come in? I need to talk to you.” I wait for him to permit me to get in. “Sure.” He closes the laptop and puts it by him on his bed and lean back on the headboard. His eyes are fixated at me; I feel my heart leap up to my throat. My palms start getting sweaty due to nervousness. I slowly sit by him on the bed and stare at my lap, while fidgeting with my fingers.

I was still niave, innocent and still chose to find the good in people even if there wasn't any. Numbness crept into my bones as we stepped into the old but well maintained house. I could feel the stares from everyone in the room, the attention was on us. The colour drained from my little brown face making me look even like I was suffering from a blood disorder, whilst my heart was pounding in my chest with nervousness. My mouth suddenly felt dry and my chest was now tightening. I slowly gasped for air. I felt as if I was drowning. I was sinking into a deep dark hole. Jacob nudged me and I quickly returned to reality. The sad sick reality.

I just imagine the moment, the small importance of giving her something that came from me. I write a few more lines in my notebook—not for Bella, just for me. I write about recess, about Jules, about the clouds sliding over the city, about how my sneakers squeak a little when I run. I write because it makes me feel less nervous. Because it makes the world quiet in a way that’s mine. The evening stretches on. Mama calls for dinner. Papa sets the table. I sit, my hands still a little shaky from writing. I can’t tell if it’s nerves or excitement. Maybe both.