A short excerpt from one of my original stories entitled Best Friends for Never. It's about two high school friends that have different world views, but manage to learn from each other and become better people because of their friendship. Enjoy! Muscle memory guides me to the room and moves me through the motions of setting up my book, paper, and pencils. I'm tapping my pencil and nervously popping my gum when he walks through the door. He sees me sitting at our usual spot and immediately scowls. He is definitely still mad about what happened at the party. He doesn't say hello or ask about my day, he just sets his bag on the table and begins to pull out books and pencils. I nervously pull at my uniform as he continues to wordlessly pull things out of his bag. I don't know what to say to make him not mad at me. Should I apologize? No, I don’t know what to say. I’ll just botch it and make things worse. I want to crack a joke, but I don't know what would be appropriate. Anything I say would probably fall flat.
He puts a pencil down a little too roughly and it begins to roll towards the floor. In my haste to do something productive with my hands, my fingers graze the back of his hand as we both reach for the pencil at the same time. I quickly retract my hand reeling from the electric pulse I felt when our fingers touched. He narrows his eyes and considers me with irritated confusion before grabbing the pencil from the edge of the desk. "Close call, amirite?" I playfully punch his shoulder. He doesn't even acknowledge me as he opens the calculus book and turns to the homework page. What the actual hell is wrong with me?
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An excerpt from an upcoming chapter of my story Me and You are Not a We Lizzy laughs and I am immediately taken aback by how beautiful she looks. I suddenly realize that this is the first time I have seen her look at me with anything other than apathy or contempt. My heart beats faster and I grow even quieter as she chatters on. Her eyes are brighter now, the brown of her pupils glittering despite the gloominess of the day. How did I ever think she was plain looking?
I raise my camera and quickly snap a shot of her laughter. The shutter clicking startles her, and she looks at me with anger. "Why did you do that?" "You looked so beautiful, I couldn't help myself,” I state matter-of-factly. Lizzy looks away from me embarrassed by my proclamation. Her hair whips in the air as she refuses to look up at me. I smirk at the realization that a simple comment about her looks is enough to fluster her. "Well, I won't look beautiful when the picture develops, and you see spit flying out of my mouth and my nose scrunched up unattractively." I continue walking, "I beg to differ." Lizzy rushes to keep up with me. "Well… I… Promise you won't develop it." "What if I develop it and show it to you first?" I acquiesce enjoying the sight of an anxious Lizzy. She is usually extremely cool and distant when she addresses me. It's nice to see her lose her cool for a second. One prolonged silence later she replies simply with "Maybe." She turns away from me. "You can't show anybody else unless I approve." "Why are you so opposed to having your picture taken. You're quite photogenic." Lizzy looks up at me with disbelief. "You can't know that. You haven't even developed the photo yet." I shrug embarrassed by the real truth. "I have a good feeling that you are. But it is hard to see because you only ever look at me with annoyance." "Because you say and do things that annoy me." "Not on purpose," I hurriedly reply. "I'm just being honest. Would you prefer I lie about what I'm feeling and thinking? Weren’t you just saying how you hate that Janet buries her true feelings with kindness and bottles up her emotions?" "There's a huge difference between advice spoken with a sense of love and respect and biting remarks pronounced with an air of unmasked condescension. And you Mr. Darcy have yet to learn the difference between the two." A smile as wide as the river slowly spreads across my face. Lizzy is standing near the dock looking out at the ocean. Her hair like always is braided in two messy braids that reach just below her shoulder blades. She is wearing a long floral printed dress that covers goes down to her ankles. The setting sun is perfectly framing her silhouette, and I appreciate the outline of her figure. The wind whips through her dress lifting the edges and she has both hands firmly placed on the sides to keep the dress from coming all of the way up. A young man sits on the dock close to her.
They are both staring out watching the boats sail past. For a moment, I imagine Lizzy standing on the bough of my boat her hair undone from the braids, whipping freely in the breeze. I imagine running my hand through her thick black hair as her hands rest on my chest. And then, despite my good mood and the veil of mystery my head provides, I end my imaginations there and do not let the fantasy get any further. I hear the trill of her melodious laughter echoing across the waves. The young man beside her tugs at her dress urging her to sit with him. Before she complies, I call out, "Lizzy!" Eager to speak with her again. I make long strides to hurriedly reach her place at the edge of the dock. I want to clearly see her expression when I tell her that I finished her book. My smile shrinks when she turns to me and I see her face. Panic clouds her features. Her eyes grow big and her breathing becomes more pronounced and rapid. Her hands are now clutching at the sides of her dress instead of effortlessly laying at her sides. "Hello," she squeaks out. |
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