When She Turns Her Back Novels & Stories

We watched it jump three times on the water surface before finally sinking into the water. I was surprised when she suddenly stood up. "Where are you going?" I asked and stood up as well. She moved away from me slightly and grabbed the hem of her t-shirt. I froze. She was about to remove it but also stopped and looked in my direction. I was silent and turned my gaze everywhere. "Turn your back." "Huh?" I asked as if I don't understand her. "I said turn around." She said again. "I said turn around..." I copy cat and turned my back.

At the same time, her eyes flew open out of shock. "Don't worry. I won't do anything to you. Just go to bed." Suddenly, Jeremy's low and husky voice rang out from behind her. For some reason, he sounded so alluring and seductive. "Jeremy, don't make me look down on you," Joanna snapped while choosing to turn her back on him.

I watched her retreating figure as she walked towards the front door. ‘Look back, please. Turn around.’ I inwardly said, desperately hoping she’d look back at me one last time before she disappeared behind the door. I wished and prayed she’d turn around to look at me one last time. With each step she took closer to the door without turning back, my heart cracked a little. ‘Look back, please.’

Then, without even looking at them again, she tossed them onto the couch behind her. I blinked. Jesus fucking Christ. She really wasn't going to make this easy. She turned back toward me, her arms folding across her chest again. “If you don't have anything else to say, please leave.”

She dried herself off with her apron as best she could before putting back on her clothes. She quickly returned to the room, quietly closing the doors behind her. When she closed the closet door, she froze when she felt a presence behind her. She slowly turned her head and saw someone standing by the mantle. Her breath caught in her throat, and momentarily, she forgot how to breathe. How the hell am I going to explain this?

If she had went back we could have made it back on track right away but now we will have to back track quite a ways before we can make it through the maze. She picks the wrong turn one more time before she finally begins to turn back. As she spins around she shoots me a rueful grin and keeps going. I fight back a chuckle as I continue to follow her back the way that we came. I do not want her to think that I am making fun of her or that I have no faith. In fact, she has done wonderfully so far and I have full faith that we are going to make it through in time for her surprise.

I kiss her cheek, salt and warmth and goodbye, and step back. She straightens, already becoming someone else. Still. Waiting. Brave in the quietest way. I don’t look back as the hearth slides close. Because if I do, I might never leave.

She smiles and walks up next to him. "Turn around." She turns around with her back to him. He unsnaps her bra strap. "Turn around." She turns around with her front to him.

At two in the morning, my sister, Paige Boyce, paid men to smash up my barbecue stand. I fought to make them stop, ignoring the embers that scorched blisters into my skin as they landed. It was the first time in my life I'd ever raised my voice at her. "After Mom and Dad died in that plane crash, this stand paid for four years of your college education and helped you become a flight attendant for Golden Crest Airlines," I said. "Are you really going to destroy the only thing keeping us alive?" Something flickered in her eyes, a flash of reluctance, but she steeled herself and scoffed. "I've told you a hundred times to get rid of this dump of a stand, and you never listen. Do you want m

she said, her voice carrying a trace of playfulness, "turn around until I say otherwise." "Yes, ma'am," I replied, my tone respectful as I turned on my heel, my back now facing her. I could feel the weight of her gaze lingering on me for a moment longer before she moved away. The space between us held a quiet charge, the atmosphere alive with the unspoken dynamics of our interaction.