Come and kiss me saltwater (english version) E-Book

Elias J. Connor

• Herausgeber: FINN Books Edition FireFly
• Kategorie: Gesellschafts- und Liebesromane
• Sprache: Englisch
• Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2023

Beschreibung

Eighteen-year-old art student Amber Collins enters the campus of the University of California, Los Angeles (UCLA) with enthusiasm and curiosity to begin her freshman semester. Between demanding lectures and trying to navigate this hectic environment, Amber discovers an unexpected passion: the art of encounter. In the midst of the crowded library, Amber meets Jayden Bennett, a charming, handsome 24-year-old man with an aura of intelligence and composure. An exchange about art and literature quickly develops into hour-long conversations in which they explore the limits of knowledge and thought. Little does Amber know that Jayden is more than he lets on. Behind his glasses and deep eyes lies an aspiring professor of literature who hides his true identity out of concern for the obstacles that age and authority may bring... A romance full of feeling, suspense and emotion from the pen of Elias J. Connor and his co-author Sweetie Willow.

Leseprobe

Elias J. Connor

Come and kiss me saltwater (english version)

Inhaltsverzeichnis

Dedication

Chapter 1 - Strange world

Chapter 2 - The labyrinth campus

Chapter 3 - The crowded library

Chapter 4 - Chance encounter

Chapter 5 - Hidden feelings

Chapter 6 - Intimate conversations

Chapter 7 - Two hearts, one Soul

Chapter 8 - Confused feelings

Chapter 9 - Friendships

Chapter 10 - What was, what is and what will be

Chapter 11 - The reveal

Chapter 12 - Confrontation and emotions

Chapter 13 - Confessions and decisions

Chapter 14 - Salt water

Chapter 15 - Self-knowledge

Chapter 16 - We are unstoppable

Chapter 17 - Common challenges

Chapter 18 - In good times and bad

Chapter 19 - The celebration

Chapter 20 - A new path

About the author Elias J. Connor

Impressum

Dedication

For Jana, my finacée.

You are the person who is closest to me.

You always accompanied me through all the ups and downs.

You give so much with your love.

I am very happy that we found each other.

Elias J. Connor

Chapter 1 - Strange world

The sun turns the sky a soft pink, while the first rays of the morning are reflected on the surface of the water. I let my gaze wander over the campus that spreads out before me - a place full of new possibilities, but also full of uncertainty.

My hands shake slightly as I clutch the piece of paper in my hands. It's my schedule for the first semester, and the thought of attending my first art classes tomorrow is making my nerves tense to breaking point. The fear of the unknown gnaws at me as I wonder whether I am up to the demands of my studies. Can I really keep up? Will I be able to live up to expectations?

A cool wind caresses my cheeks and raises goosebumps on my skin. I pull my jacket tighter around me, as if it could offer me some protection from my own doubts at this moment. The gentle waves of the lake have a calming effect on me and I watch the water lilies sway gently in the gentle waves, but my insides are anything but calm. The thoughts of the challenges ahead and the expectations I have of myself make my heart beat faster.

I take a deep breath, trying to control the rising panic. This is a new chapter in my life that I am consciously approaching, but it feels like I am walking towards the edge of an abyss. The freedom that college promises is as overwhelming as it is frightening. I know that I will grow, that I will open myself to new ideas and perspectives, but the process is not without fears and uncertainties.

As I look out over the lake, I try to imagine how I will remember in a few years - this moment, the beginning of my university journey. Maybe I'll smile and wonder why I was so worried. Maybe I'll be proud of the hurdles I've overcome and the friendships I've made.

The sound of voices and laughter catches my attention as other students gather on the shore of the lake. They are people who, like me, find themselves in a sea of change. And maybe, just maybe, we can support and encourage each other as we move forward into this new world.

I take another deep breath, let my fear blow away in the wind, and slowly stand up. My first day of college may be scary, but I'm ready to take on the challenge. With every step I take towards the university buildings, my resolve to welcome this experience with open arms and make the most of it grows.

The morning air is fresh and invigorating as I slowly rise from my spot on the lakeshore. A warm glow begins to spread across the horizon as the sun gradually rises higher. The birds chirp happily in the background, adding to the calming atmosphere that surrounds me. I let the moment sink in for a moment longer before I take my eyes off the picturesque scenery.

With a firm resolve within me to overcome my insecurities, my schedule folds in my hand as I slowly lead the steps towards the university buildings. I remember the words of my family and friends who encouraged me to approach this new phase of my life with confidence. The freedom to delve into my passion for art studies is a privilege that I would not want to give up lightly.

As I reach the ivy-covered buildings, I feel a mix of excitement and tension. The hallways are still quiet, but I know they will soon be filled with curious and eager students. A smile crosses my face as I think of all the people I will meet who are just as eager to discover and share their passions.

The first lecture hall appears before me and I enter it with a lump in my throat and a pounding in my chest. As I find a place and sit down, I let my gaze wander over the faces of my fellow students. Each of us has a story, fears and dreams that led us here.

“It’s okay,” I hear the voice of a young woman who looks about my age. “We are all new here. Where are you originally from?"

I look at her timidly.

“From Maine,” I answer.

The young woman smiles.

“You’ve come quite a long way to get here to UCLA in Los Angeles,” she notices. “By the way, my name is Madeleine. I’m from Burbank.”

“You have a French name,” I point out.

“Yes,” replied Madeleine. “My parents are originally from Canada. But we have been living in California for more than 10 years.” Madeleine looks at me with a questioning look. “What’s your name?” she finally wants to know.

“Amber Collins,” I say, no less shy than I have been all along.

At that moment the professor enters the room. The class immediately falls silent.

She appears confident and exudes an aura of experience. Her presence fills the room and all eyes turn to her. She greets the class with a warm smile and begins to introduce herself. Her words are encouraging and inspiring at the same time, and I feel my tension gradually easing.

As the professor discusses the curriculum and expectations, it becomes clear that she has a deep passion for art history. She emphasizes the importance of critical thinking and discussion in the academic environment. The enthusiasm in her voice is contagious and I begin to look forward to the upcoming courses.

The round of introductions among the students begins, and little by little we talk about our backgrounds, interests and expectations. I'm impressed by the diversity of stories and personalities, and I'm starting to feel welcome in this new community.

The hours pass quickly as the professor delves into the details of the first topic. I am impressed by your ability to explain complex concepts in an understandable way. I diligently take notes and feel my interest in art history continue to grow.

During a short break, Madeleine turns to me again.

“The professor seems really amazing, doesn’t she?”

I nod in agreement and reply, “Yes, definitely. Her passion is contagious.”

The first few days pass and I find myself settling more and more into the rhythm of university life. The initial uncertainty gives way to a feeling of belonging. Madeleine and I become good friends and we discover common interests and hobbies.

Our study group is growing closer together and the discussions are becoming more lively. We share our thoughts about works of art, artists and different cultural influences. The challenges of academic demands are real, but the support of fellow students and the deep enjoyment of what we learn keep us motivated.

Los Angeles. I've been here for seven days now. I haven't even left campus since I've been here. I don't know the exact reason. Maybe it was the fear of being alone. Maybe in the last few days I've gotten so used to living together with my fellow students.

This evening - it's already 10 p.m. - I'm sitting by the lake again and looking at the full schedule for the first semester. I think to myself, now it's time to dare to do something. Now it's time to leave the nest - and God knows I've been there for far too long.

I haven't told any of my fellow students yet, but for me the journey of leaving home and moving to the other side of the United States was very difficult. Yes, my parents wanted me to study. But they never actually believed that I would get into UCLA, one of the top universities in the USA.

Now I'm here. Am I satisfied? I'm happy?

I notice that I still haven't gotten over my initial shyness. But I want it so much. I want to be independent and dare to do things.

Tonight I'll do it. I drive to the city. I'll drive into Los Angeles, then have a coffee on the pier somewhere in Santa Monica or Venice and soak up the atmosphere. Yes, today I dare.

The thoughts in my head swirl as I prepare to step out of my comfort zone. I get up, fold the schedule and put it in my bag. One last look at the lake, shining calmly in the darkness, and then I set off. The city lights twinkle in the distance like stars on the horizon.

The journey into the city is exciting and scary at the same time. The streets are busy, the hum of the city fills the air. As I move through the crowds, I feel my heart beating faster. The lure of shops, cafes and restaurants is overwhelming. I pause, take a deep breath and remember why I'm here.

I find a cozy spot on the Santa Monica pier, overlooking the ocean. I order a coffee and let the warm mug warm my hands. As I watch the goings-on around me, I feel alive. The sounds of the waves, the laughter of people and the rush of the street merge into a calming background.

Slowly but surely I notice how my nervousness is subsiding. The realization that I took this step fills me with pride. I think about my first few days on campus, the fears I overcame, and how I slowly crawled out of my shell. This evening is another step in that direction.

As time passes, the city becomes quieter. People retreat and the lights cast soft glows on the water. I smile to myself and feel the darkness around me bring a certain serenity. The uncertainty from before gives way to a feeling of contentment.

I sit on the sand on the beach after walking around Santa Monica for a while. I take some sand in my hand and let it slide through my fingers.

“No, no one knows,” I whisper quietly to myself. “No one knows why you’re really here, Amber Collins.”

When I finally make my way back to campus, I feel strengthened. The steps are easier and I know I will continue to move forward on this new path I have chosen. The city showed me that I have more courage than I thought. And as I return to the familiar paths, I am ready to face the coming days and weeks with even more determination and openness.

Chapter 2 - The labyrinth campus

A feeling of insecurity surrounds me. The second week has begun, but the turmoil of this huge university still seems to be unfolding before me. My sense of direction is like a tattered piece of map that I try in vain to fold in the right direction.

This morning I was determined to find the room for the reading on the Expressionist art style and its masters. Yesterday I got lost and ended up in a room filled with chemistry lectures while looking for art history. But today should be different, I thought to myself.

The sun sends its golden rays over the campus as I set off. My gaze falls on the handwritten plan that I have carefully noted down. Room B-203 should be the right one. I set off, following the corridors, letting the numbered signs on the doors pass me by. But the further I go, the more my perception becomes distorted. Doubts creep in, twisting my mind like uninvited guests.

When I reach the door to room B-203, I breathe a sigh of relief. I arrived in time, the chairs are still empty and I find a seat near the middle. Excitement rises within me as I prepare my notes and prepare for the upcoming reading on the expressiveness of colors and shapes.

But time flies like a fleeting thought as the hall fills up. And when the lecturer finally stands at the front and the presentation begins, I quickly notice that something is wrong.

“Welcome, dear students,” he greets us. “I would like to draw your attention straight away to what semester work I expect from you. You will write a dossier on the subject of poetry and romance. You want to choose the book you want to discuss. Some suggestions are here.”

He points to a row of books on the wall shelf.

He speaks of poetry, of heartbreak and undying love, of the indescribable beauty of nature. My heart beats louder as I stare at the projections on the wall showing images of dreamy landscapes and melancholic poets.

The realization hits me like an ice-cold gust of wind. I ended up in the wrong room. Panic creeps into my thoughts as I look around and realize I'm surrounded by people who are clearly tuned in to a completely different lecture. There's nothing I can do to turn back time. The minutes tick by inexorably, and I know that it is already too late for the reading about the expressionist art style.

A sigh escapes my lips as I slowly stand up and leave the hall, my gaze fixed on the floor. The feeling of defeat gnaws at me, but I force myself to look forward again. Maybe I can do it right next time. Maybe one day I will be able to penetrate the turmoil of this campus and reach my goal without detours. Until then, all I have left is hope that my next steps will lead me on the right path.

In the afternoon I meet Madeleine in the common room of our accommodation. She sits there and reads. When she sees me, she waves to me.

“Amber,” she says. “Where were you this morning?”

I shrug my shoulders.

“You don’t believe me,” I say, a little annoyed.

“Are you lost again?” she asks.

I nod.

My best friend Madeleine and I collapsed into the soft armchairs in front of the large windows. The sun shines through the glass and throws warm spots of light onto the floor. Madeleine just returned from the expressionism lecture, where I was supposed to be too. I can't wait to hear from her what new things she's learned.

“Amber, you wouldn’t believe how fascinating expressionism is!” says Madeleine with an enthusiastic smile as she leans back in her chair.

I lean closer eagerly and encourage her, “Tell me everything. What did you learn about Expressionism in the lecture?”

Madeleine begins to talk animatedly: “Well, Expressionism is an art historical movement that developed mainly in the period before the First World War. The artists of this movement sought to express their inner feelings and emotions through their art. They rejected the traditional depiction of reality and preferred distorted shapes, bold colors and sharp contrasts.”

“Interesting,” I say. “I didn’t realize that’s why they called it expressionism.”

I am fascinated by Madeleine's explanations.

“What types of art forms became particularly popular during this movement?” I then want to know.

Madeleine gestures enthusiastically and explains: “Well, especially painting and graphics. Artists experimented with different techniques to reflect their feelings on canvas. Some of the most famous expressionists are Ernst Ludwig Kirchner, who attracted attention with his structured and restless images, or Emil Nolde, who used intensely bright colors to emphasize emotions.”

I grab my notepad and quickly jot down a few notes while Madeleine talks.

“Have you also learned something about the topics that they have dealt with in their works?” I finally want to find out.

Madeleine nods and continues: “Yes, definitely. Many expressionists dealt with existential questions, human fears and social changes. A famous example is Edvard Munch's painting 'The Scream', which symbolizes the inner torment of modern man."

“I know that,” comes to mind. “It’s a very familiar image.”

Madeleine nods.

I sit there thoughtfully.

“That sounds really impressive. It must have been exciting to be an artist during this time and to push the boundaries of conventional art.”

Madeleine nods in agreement and smiles.

“Absolutely, Amber. Expressionism revolutionized the art world and opened a new path for the interpretation of emotions and thoughts in art. It's fascinating to see how artists were able to create a connection to their inner world through their works.” Madeleine can't resist a little dig. “If you had been at the reading today, you would have been able to experience the fascination live. It would be good if you could do it tomorrow.”

As we continue to talk, we delve deeper and deeper into the world of expressionism. The sun is slowly sinking below the horizon, but our enthusiasm for the subject shines just as intensely as the colors on the Expressionists' canvases.

The ocean glistens in the last rays of the sun, bathing the entire city in a warm orange, as I find myself on the pier in Santa Monica in the evening light. The sounds of the waves, the rustling of the wind - they all mix into a soothing melody. I sit on one of the benches, feel the light breeze on my skin and breathe deeply as I lean against the railing and stare at the sea below.

“Sometimes I wonder why I do this,” I whisper quietly to myself. “Why I was always groomed for this success, as if it was the only way to be truly happy.” A sigh escapes my lips as I lean back and look at the water.

The memories of my childhood crowd into my thoughts. My parents' constant expectations, their constant surveillance, as if they feared I couldn't survive without them. I swallow hard as I continue to speak my innermost thoughts out loud.

“You never really believed in me, did you? Always this underlying insecurity that I wouldn't be able to do it. As if I wasn’t strong enough to find my own way.” A bitter smile crosses my face. “I became more afraid the more they tried to protect me.”

My finger circles my wet lips.

"I wonder if I'm really as weak as they think."

The smell of salt and sea air surrounds me as I sort out my thoughts.

“And then this paternalism. As if I couldn't make my own decisions. Like they always know what’s best for me.”

I shake my head slightly as I remember how many times they tried to steer me in a certain direction without letting me make my own mistakes.

“They raised me too sheltered,” I whisper, my voice laced with a hint of sadness. “They never gave me the freedom to make my own decisions, make mistakes and learn from them. How will I ever learn to stand on my own two feet if they never let me go?”

I stare at the swaying water and wonder if I will ever be able to be truly independent.

“Studying at UCLA – it’s like a step towards independence, right? A chance to finally break free from these shackles.”

A bitter smile twitches on my lips.

“But honestly, I don’t really believe in it. I can still hear their voices, the doubts they sowed in me.”

I close my eyes, let the wind caress my skin, and lose myself for a moment in the silence of the warm autumn night.

Exhausted from a long day at university, I finally return to the familiar dormitory. My room welcomes me with dim lighting and a hint of familiar smells - a place that almost feels like a second home. I collapse onto my bed and feel the tiredness wash over me like a wave. The pillows feel so comfortable and the darkness of the room promises peace and relaxation.

My eyes slowly close and I find myself in a strange world. I am trapped in a gigantic bottle that oppresses and restricts me. Confused, I look around and notice my father standing outside the bottle. A ladder leans against the bottle and he holds a huge cork in his hands. His facial expression is serious, almost threatening.

I feel my heart beating faster as he slowly pushes the cork down to insert it into the bottle. Panic fills me as I try to raise my voice, but no sound escapes my lips. My father looks at me, his eyes piercing.

“You can only breathe if we allow you to breathe,” I hear his words, echoing like a distant echo in my head.

The confinement of the bottle becomes unbearable and I feel the air running out. My breathing becomes shallower, my heartbeat louder. I try to fight, to move, but the glass walls of the bottle are impenetrable. Despair grips me as I gasp for air, but it is denied me.

Suddenly a wave of anxiety passes through me and I open my eyes in my dark room. My body is covered in a cold sweat and my heart is pounding wildly against my chest. Reality slowly sets in again as I realize it was just a dream. My father would never withhold air from me - that was just a product of my own fears and insecurities.

I take a deep breath and try to calm my pulse. The dream may be over, but the emotions it triggered still resonate. I sit up in bed and look out the window. The moon gently illuminates the dark sky and I realize I am safe. It may take a while for my thoughts to calm down, but I know that I am strong enough to overcome my own fears.

Chapter 3 - The crowded library

The sun hangs low in the sky and bathes everything in a warm, golden light. My fingers tighten slightly on the handle of my bag as I wonder how I managed to get so lost here. I urgently need a specific book for my research, and the library is supposed to be the right place. I raise my eyes and scout the buildings in the distance. There - a sign with the inscription "Library" shows the way.

When I reach the building, an impressive picture opens up in front of me. The library stretches majestically upwards, the large windows reflecting the sunlight as if they were holding sparkling diamonds. I breathe in deeply and feel the scent of old paper and knowledge in the air. The facade made of warm sandstone gives the place a timeless elegance.

I step through the heavy wooden doors and find myself in a book lover's paradise. Tall shelves extend in all directions, filled with rows and rows of books of various sizes and colors.

---ENDE DER LESEPROBE---