These are the archives of "RoMoments" as posted on Twitter at @KarenKiess. (RoMoments are romance stories just the length of one Tweet. The series chronicled a year's hijinx between Neil and Clara, who met at Midnight on New Year's eve and have been nudging each other in the ribs ever since).
12-31-2012 “HNY!” He cried to the boozy throng. She offered a smile in consolation. Having none of it, he swooped. She swooned. Nice start, 2013.
He brushed her hair from her cheek. “I didn’t catch your name.” Her eyes were flinty. “You didn’t ask.” Everything's changed, he reflected.
“Clara-after my grandmother.” “Neil,” he rasped. “Junior. Um-care to dance?” She appreciated his fluster. Sincerity: big points.
She flushed at his earnestness. “How about some fresh air?” “Please,” he sighed in relief. He offered his hand. Her resolve wavered.
Of course, she kissed him-she owed him one. Recovering first, she slipped her phone number between his warm trembling fingers.
“Burgers?” He squinted, half-smiling. “I know a place,” she explained. “Great fries, beer...” She looked him over. “Cozy booths.”
“What’s the deal with the bandage?” She asked, licking ketchup from her fingers. He blinked dazedly."Um..." Shame on her and those lips.
“The bandage-ah-dispute with the neighbor’s dog. Wanted my hand but I’m rather attached to it,” he winced. His eyes transfixed her. Whew.
Clara giggled. Curling her delicate fingers around his, she cooed “I’ve gotten rather attached myself. Neil.” His lip quivered.
Chill rain trailing along the plate glass window didn’t dampen their across-the-booth exploration, fingers speaking husky volumes.
Neil walked Clara home. Her hand was in his jacket pocket, searching for the wrapped chocolate mints he'd stashed. Wrong pocket, he smirked.
She was on tiptoes, breath minty, on her lips a film of waxy dark chocolate. Was it the sugar making her this dippy? Nope,definitely him.
“Dinner in next time?” She sparkled. He winced. “Are you cooking?” “Yes,” something spicy, I think.” Neil’s note to self: 'Bring Tums'.
He was pleasantly surprised-dinner at her place was quite good. As a gentleman he did not comment on the Indian take-out boxes in the bin.
Dessert was a box of chocolates on the tiny balcony, the stars a sprinkling of sugar across a velvet sky. He traded his share for a promise.
“Who picks the movie?” She asked coyly. “Me,” he said with conviction. She was getting spoiled. “But I’ll spring for the XL buttered popcorn.”
He’d left his gloves behind. She didn’t repress her urge to pull them on and wriggle her fingers inside. Big hands… Naughty, she thought.
He’d forgotten his blasted gloves. Burying his fingers deeply into his pockets, he found a forgotten mint-she’d missed one. And a note.
She wondered if he’d found the note yet. It was daring of her, but her instincts kept pushing her to not let this one off the hook.
He blushed as he walked, his eyes on the tiny scrawled note, and not on the icy stairs. He grabbed the rail on his way down, chuckling.
Dare he call? It was late. He dared-straight to voicemail. “Chicken!,” he tittered, then hung up. Damn it.
She bit her lip. ‘Chicken?” Busted. Dare she call him back? No. She was chicken, after all. Her fingers hovered, waiting for a decision.
He picked up on the first ring. “Knew it.” Grinning as she put him in his place, he pressed the note flat and slipped it into his wallet.
Scene: Video store. Conflict: RomCom Vs Zombies. Compromise: ZomCom.
“Zombies are so funny! Who knew?” She giggled, leaning in for the last of the popcorn. He was looking a bit green.
He sipped a ginger ale, cursing his squeamish stomach. Clara flopped next to him on the couch,a Caddyshack video in hand. “Better?” “Mm-hm.”
Neil shrugged, doing his best Bill Murray . “So I’ve got that going for me. Which is nice.” Clara’s cackle was, ironically, a bit fetching.
“Bill Murray is so underappreciated,” she declared, sipping her Bud. He’s the whole package-funny, smart…” She giggled. “Ironclad stomach.”
“Sooo unfair-you’ve never watched a zombie movie with him,” Neil pouted, cracking his knuckles. Clara swooned. “Don’t do that!” “Ah-haa!”
“Let’s be mature about this…” She rose. Neil leaned forward, knuckles at the ready. She gulped. “Truce?” He raised a brow. “Apology?”
“Okay-I’m sorry-you are truly a man of steel.” She glimmered. “You’re Superman.” She grasped his hands. “Now put those away.”
She didn’t want to walk home. She didn’t want to leave his apartment. “Did I mention I brought my toothbrush?” His eyebrows quivered.
“Is that a twitch?” She smirked. He cleared his throat to buy some manly time.
They curled up on the sofa and made a cocoon of the afghan. The remote was lost somewhere in the mix, and PBS turned to FUSE.
He told her oatmeal cookies were his favorite-and he liked them spicy. ‘Where’s that recipe book mom gave me?’, she wondered.
“Mmm, your mom’s recipe, you say?” Neil leaned in for another. Clara nodded, pouring two glassed of milk. “She called them her man-getters.”
Clara draped her legs across Neil’s as they lay listlessly on the couch. They were dying-it was a serious case of the dreaded Spring Fever.
Clara sighed. “You are utterly wrong. It’s Positive to Positive, Negative to Negative.” Neil shook his head, ignoring her girly directions.”
She headed for the hills before the battery acid started raining down. “Good luck with that! Call me when you go new car shopping, dumbass!”
Neil watched her shrinking form. He looked at the jumper cables. “The girl or the manly pride?” He asked himself. He closed the hood.
“Of course real men have AAA. It’s sensible,” she told him. “Women have a great appreciation for sensible. Write that down.”
What she wanted to say was that a little male pride here and there was a forgivable offense. Hard to forgive: Unkindness. And he was kind.
He closed the door for her and ran around, jumping in and cranking the heat. “Now, where were we?” “Ice cream,” she reminded him, ruefully.
He clicked “OK” confirming his new auto club membership. “Forgiven?” “Yes,” she smiled, the wind fussing just outside her window.
She breathed the damp air and stepped on the walk, finally free of icy patches. “Spring,” she thought, “and a cutie on my arm-Where is he?”
The approaching figure looked like Neil, but he was being dragged by a tiny white blob on a leash. The look-alike smiled. “My new wing man.”
“It’s a puppy!” She cried. “Gimme!” The little blob stopped at her feet at raised a tentative muddy paw. The infatuation was complete.
“The shelter named him Snowball, but it just doesn’t feel right,” Neil explained. “What were you thinking?” She asked. “Blobby?”
He took the pup from her arms. “If you’re going to be mean…” Clara wilted. “Sorry. Can I have him back?” Neil raised a brow and bolted.
She shrieked and gave chase. “Neil Junior? King? Zeus?” Neil stopped at the corner and set the pup next to a ragged shrubbery. “Jester.”
They sat on the park bench, too contented to be driven indoors by the cold. The pup eyed them accusingly. "Better go," Neil sighed.
He tossed her coat on the sofa and headed to the kitchen to make cocoa. He moaned to himself after checking the cupboards-no marshmallows.
“Don’t you have any dog treats?” She asked. He made a round trip to the kitchen and tossed her a bag of bacon-y goodness.
"Happy May Day!" He smiled, presenting a handful of crocuses. They bore a strong resemblance to those in the bed in front of her building.
Clara was enjoying the new addition to Neil's household. A napping pup curled up between them made a cold Saturday staying in way more cozy.
Neil yawned but didn’t stir. “So what did she say?” Clara rolled her eyes. “It wasn’t what she said, it was the way she said it.” He sighed.
They were fast-forwarding to all the good parts in BIG-he to the silly string, she to the giant keyboard. “Lunch?” he asked.
“Anything from the pizza place, as long as we get some of those cinnamony things…. Or maybe the cheesecake bites.” She bit her lip. "Or..."
She nudged him and nodded in the direction of the door. "Your pup is standing there with his legs crossed." He grunted and rose slowly.It was a cool and gusty evening-perfect weather for slipping her hand into his coat pocket. She gently probed for stray Andes mints.
The pup snored lightly, curled up on her coat on the sofa. His new bed in the corner was clearly too far from the action. He signed deeply.
Neil's lip curled devilishly. "Well, that's it then. You'll need to stay over." Clara nudged him and then settled into his side. Tough call.
They were fed up with waiting for the rain to end. Collecting galoshes and the big umbrella, they tugged Jester out the front door.
"Maybe he needs a rain slicker," she wondered, the scent of wet dog hanging thick in the air. He grasped her hand and kept them moving.
"Now he's just fed up," Clara said. "He's giving me the stink eye." The pup confirmed her observation with a loud harrumph. Neil snickered.
Neil gave the pup a warning look and stayed on target-the shelter of the big tree, a relatively dry bench underneath. He pulled her close.
She didn't notice the cold as they entwined under the dripping leaves. Jester, resigned to his current fate, curled up under the bench.
"It's been a busy summer," she said, lounging in the grass. "Yes," he said, I'll have to tweet something one of these days," and dozed off.
"Time for Jester's neutralization," she said, trying not to snicker. "Just call it what it is, he snapped," crossing his legs. "Poor pup."
Clara left Neil at home-he was a puddle anyway. Jester, happily oblivious, rode shotgun and eyed pedestrians. She was feeling a bit guilty.
Now this wasn't funny. She wanted to just bring him home again, ghoolies and all. But that would be irresponsible. She didn't look back.
"How'd it go?" He asked, making room on the sofa. Her lip quivered. "Now, now," he smiled. "He'll forgive us. Eventually."
"Is that the heat finally kicking in?" he asked. "No, it's the knocking of my knees trying to generate some heat." She raised an eyebrow...
He pulled the blanket up around his ears. "Say, didn't we have some kind of anniversary lately?" He put his brain back in gear and ducked.
01-06-2014 The swelling wasn't too bad. Her icy glare helped reduce the puffiness. "Well, happy anniversary of our first kiss belatedly. Honey. Ahem."
He brushed her hair from her cheek. “I didn’t catch your name.” Her eyes were flinty. “You didn’t ask.” Everything's changed, he reflected.
“Clara-after my grandmother.” “Neil,” he rasped. “Junior. Um-care to dance?” She appreciated his fluster. Sincerity: big points.
She flushed at his earnestness. “How about some fresh air?” “Please,” he sighed in relief. He offered his hand. Her resolve wavered.
Of course, she kissed him-she owed him one. Recovering first, she slipped her phone number between his warm trembling fingers.
“Burgers?” He squinted, half-smiling. “I know a place,” she explained. “Great fries, beer...” She looked him over. “Cozy booths.”
“What’s the deal with the bandage?” She asked, licking ketchup from her fingers. He blinked dazedly."Um..." Shame on her and those lips.
“The bandage-ah-dispute with the neighbor’s dog. Wanted my hand but I’m rather attached to it,” he winced. His eyes transfixed her. Whew.
Clara giggled. Curling her delicate fingers around his, she cooed “I’ve gotten rather attached myself. Neil.” His lip quivered.
Chill rain trailing along the plate glass window didn’t dampen their across-the-booth exploration, fingers speaking husky volumes.
Neil walked Clara home. Her hand was in his jacket pocket, searching for the wrapped chocolate mints he'd stashed. Wrong pocket, he smirked.
She was on tiptoes, breath minty, on her lips a film of waxy dark chocolate. Was it the sugar making her this dippy? Nope,definitely him.
“Dinner in next time?” She sparkled. He winced. “Are you cooking?” “Yes,” something spicy, I think.” Neil’s note to self: 'Bring Tums'.
He was pleasantly surprised-dinner at her place was quite good. As a gentleman he did not comment on the Indian take-out boxes in the bin.
Dessert was a box of chocolates on the tiny balcony, the stars a sprinkling of sugar across a velvet sky. He traded his share for a promise.
“Who picks the movie?” She asked coyly. “Me,” he said with conviction. She was getting spoiled. “But I’ll spring for the XL buttered popcorn.”
He’d left his gloves behind. She didn’t repress her urge to pull them on and wriggle her fingers inside. Big hands… Naughty, she thought.
He’d forgotten his blasted gloves. Burying his fingers deeply into his pockets, he found a forgotten mint-she’d missed one. And a note.
She wondered if he’d found the note yet. It was daring of her, but her instincts kept pushing her to not let this one off the hook.
He blushed as he walked, his eyes on the tiny scrawled note, and not on the icy stairs. He grabbed the rail on his way down, chuckling.
Dare he call? It was late. He dared-straight to voicemail. “Chicken!,” he tittered, then hung up. Damn it.
She bit her lip. ‘Chicken?” Busted. Dare she call him back? No. She was chicken, after all. Her fingers hovered, waiting for a decision.
He picked up on the first ring. “Knew it.” Grinning as she put him in his place, he pressed the note flat and slipped it into his wallet.
Scene: Video store. Conflict: RomCom Vs Zombies. Compromise: ZomCom.
“Zombies are so funny! Who knew?” She giggled, leaning in for the last of the popcorn. He was looking a bit green.
He sipped a ginger ale, cursing his squeamish stomach. Clara flopped next to him on the couch,a Caddyshack video in hand. “Better?” “Mm-hm.”
Neil shrugged, doing his best Bill Murray . “So I’ve got that going for me. Which is nice.” Clara’s cackle was, ironically, a bit fetching.
“Bill Murray is so underappreciated,” she declared, sipping her Bud. He’s the whole package-funny, smart…” She giggled. “Ironclad stomach.”
“Sooo unfair-you’ve never watched a zombie movie with him,” Neil pouted, cracking his knuckles. Clara swooned. “Don’t do that!” “Ah-haa!”
“Let’s be mature about this…” She rose. Neil leaned forward, knuckles at the ready. She gulped. “Truce?” He raised a brow. “Apology?”
“Okay-I’m sorry-you are truly a man of steel.” She glimmered. “You’re Superman.” She grasped his hands. “Now put those away.”
She didn’t want to walk home. She didn’t want to leave his apartment. “Did I mention I brought my toothbrush?” His eyebrows quivered.
“Is that a twitch?” She smirked. He cleared his throat to buy some manly time.
They curled up on the sofa and made a cocoon of the afghan. The remote was lost somewhere in the mix, and PBS turned to FUSE.
He told her oatmeal cookies were his favorite-and he liked them spicy. ‘Where’s that recipe book mom gave me?’, she wondered.
“Mmm, your mom’s recipe, you say?” Neil leaned in for another. Clara nodded, pouring two glassed of milk. “She called them her man-getters.”
Clara draped her legs across Neil’s as they lay listlessly on the couch. They were dying-it was a serious case of the dreaded Spring Fever.
Clara sighed. “You are utterly wrong. It’s Positive to Positive, Negative to Negative.” Neil shook his head, ignoring her girly directions.”
She headed for the hills before the battery acid started raining down. “Good luck with that! Call me when you go new car shopping, dumbass!”
Neil watched her shrinking form. He looked at the jumper cables. “The girl or the manly pride?” He asked himself. He closed the hood.
“Of course real men have AAA. It’s sensible,” she told him. “Women have a great appreciation for sensible. Write that down.”
What she wanted to say was that a little male pride here and there was a forgivable offense. Hard to forgive: Unkindness. And he was kind.
He closed the door for her and ran around, jumping in and cranking the heat. “Now, where were we?” “Ice cream,” she reminded him, ruefully.
He clicked “OK” confirming his new auto club membership. “Forgiven?” “Yes,” she smiled, the wind fussing just outside her window.
She breathed the damp air and stepped on the walk, finally free of icy patches. “Spring,” she thought, “and a cutie on my arm-Where is he?”
The approaching figure looked like Neil, but he was being dragged by a tiny white blob on a leash. The look-alike smiled. “My new wing man.”
“It’s a puppy!” She cried. “Gimme!” The little blob stopped at her feet at raised a tentative muddy paw. The infatuation was complete.
“The shelter named him Snowball, but it just doesn’t feel right,” Neil explained. “What were you thinking?” She asked. “Blobby?”
He took the pup from her arms. “If you’re going to be mean…” Clara wilted. “Sorry. Can I have him back?” Neil raised a brow and bolted.
She shrieked and gave chase. “Neil Junior? King? Zeus?” Neil stopped at the corner and set the pup next to a ragged shrubbery. “Jester.”
They sat on the park bench, too contented to be driven indoors by the cold. The pup eyed them accusingly. "Better go," Neil sighed.
He tossed her coat on the sofa and headed to the kitchen to make cocoa. He moaned to himself after checking the cupboards-no marshmallows.
“Don’t you have any dog treats?” She asked. He made a round trip to the kitchen and tossed her a bag of bacon-y goodness.
"Happy May Day!" He smiled, presenting a handful of crocuses. They bore a strong resemblance to those in the bed in front of her building.
Clara was enjoying the new addition to Neil's household. A napping pup curled up between them made a cold Saturday staying in way more cozy.
Neil yawned but didn’t stir. “So what did she say?” Clara rolled her eyes. “It wasn’t what she said, it was the way she said it.” He sighed.
They were fast-forwarding to all the good parts in BIG-he to the silly string, she to the giant keyboard. “Lunch?” he asked.
“Anything from the pizza place, as long as we get some of those cinnamony things…. Or maybe the cheesecake bites.” She bit her lip. "Or..."
She nudged him and nodded in the direction of the door. "Your pup is standing there with his legs crossed." He grunted and rose slowly.It was a cool and gusty evening-perfect weather for slipping her hand into his coat pocket. She gently probed for stray Andes mints.
The pup snored lightly, curled up on her coat on the sofa. His new bed in the corner was clearly too far from the action. He signed deeply.
Neil's lip curled devilishly. "Well, that's it then. You'll need to stay over." Clara nudged him and then settled into his side. Tough call.
They were fed up with waiting for the rain to end. Collecting galoshes and the big umbrella, they tugged Jester out the front door.
"Maybe he needs a rain slicker," she wondered, the scent of wet dog hanging thick in the air. He grasped her hand and kept them moving.
"Now he's just fed up," Clara said. "He's giving me the stink eye." The pup confirmed her observation with a loud harrumph. Neil snickered.
Neil gave the pup a warning look and stayed on target-the shelter of the big tree, a relatively dry bench underneath. He pulled her close.
She didn't notice the cold as they entwined under the dripping leaves. Jester, resigned to his current fate, curled up under the bench.
"It's been a busy summer," she said, lounging in the grass. "Yes," he said, I'll have to tweet something one of these days," and dozed off.
"Time for Jester's neutralization," she said, trying not to snicker. "Just call it what it is, he snapped," crossing his legs. "Poor pup."
Clara left Neil at home-he was a puddle anyway. Jester, happily oblivious, rode shotgun and eyed pedestrians. She was feeling a bit guilty.
Now this wasn't funny. She wanted to just bring him home again, ghoolies and all. But that would be irresponsible. She didn't look back.
"How'd it go?" He asked, making room on the sofa. Her lip quivered. "Now, now," he smiled. "He'll forgive us. Eventually."
"Is that the heat finally kicking in?" he asked. "No, it's the knocking of my knees trying to generate some heat." She raised an eyebrow...
He pulled the blanket up around his ears. "Say, didn't we have some kind of anniversary lately?" He put his brain back in gear and ducked.
01-06-2014 The swelling wasn't too bad. Her icy glare helped reduce the puffiness. "Well, happy anniversary of our first kiss belatedly. Honey. Ahem."
