|15 words today!|
Ya'll, I have been dying for Wednesday to get here! I've missed a couple weeks of this because of book rewriting craziness and a migraine last week that devoured my brain. So, in honor of my excitement, I decided to do three stories. Get excited!
First up is this little YA piece.
Erin adjusted her skirt and peered into the mirror one last time. It wasn't as bad as she expected. The skirt was short, but what did she expect? Cheerleaders weren't exactly known for their conservative attire. At least their school colors were good. Her brown hair went good with the blue uniform.
Erin spun to where Molly stood in the locker room doorway. Sweet fate. Her confidence plummeted as her gaze swept over Molly in uniform. Molly's long legs made the skirt look even shorter, but the outfit pulled across her in all the right places, hugging her pear shaped figure. Erin turned back to the mirror. She had curves all right. But she wasn't a pear. More like a kumquat. Oh stars.
"First game. Go Pirates!" Molly laughed at herself and made her way to Erin. Molly wasn't that tall, but standing next to Erin she looked it. It was if the nurses had docked Erin's height at birth. She hadn't grown past 4'10". Molly scrutinized Erin's face. "You nervous?" They'd gone out for cheerleading together, and here they were. First game. Molly adjusted the red bow in Erin's hair.
Erin frowned at her reflection. "I look like the Travelocity gnome."
"Nonsense." Molly didn't tolerate much, something Erin had known since preschool when Molly pushed Garret Sweeney for putting a caterpillar in Erin's hair. They'd been best friends ever since. Molly gripped Erin's hand and dragged her out of the locker room and down to the football field. A late summer breeze tossed brown strands of hair in Erin's face. She took a deep breath and smiled. So what if she was short and lacked the indentation she should have had between her boobs and her waist? She'd made varisty cheerleading, a dream come true. And she had a best friend she'd had for thirteen years. Even if she looked like a gnome, this was going to be a great year.
Now we have this: A male POV, which I haven't done in a Five Word Story yet. New Adult genre.
Grant tapped his fingers on his leg as he paced. Finally the girl came back on the line. "I need to make reservations for tonight," Grant told her. He glanced at the clock as he confirmed details. Six pm dinner. That gave him two hours. Grant ended the call and grabbed his keys and made a quick exit from his office. The last thing he needed was his boss catching him leaving work early.
He slid into his car and headed across town. He needed to shower and then fight evening traffic heading back. The restaurant where he was taking Daphne was half an hour from his house. Should he pick up flowers? That would make her smile. She'd been in a horrible melancholy since she got beat out for that promotion last month. He wanted to make her smile. To have those green eyes of her sparkle and to hear her laugh. God, he loved her laugh. They'd been friends for years and just recently become something more. Grant could've sworn the sun shone brighter each day since they'd acknowledged their feelings for one another. Yes, flowers. Roses. Pink ones; her favorite color.
He was at his house in no time and showered in record speed. He donned another suit, hating the fact that he didn't have a pink tie to wear for her. Daphne would love it, and though it'd make him feel like a damned fool wearing pink, he would. For her. He sighed. Six could not get here fast enough.
Grabbing his keys, he jogged back out to the car just as another was pulling into the garage. His stomach bottomed out. He willed his face to be neutral and waited while the car pulled in. He watched as she extracted her long legs from the car and stood in front of him. "Hi hon!" Her face blossomed into a smile. "You're home early." She twisted the ring on her finger, a habit she'd had since they met in college.
Grant smiled. "Just had to pick something up. I've got a last minute dinner tonight."
Jenny's smile dropped to a frown. "Oh. All right."
He moved to her side and pressed a kiss to her temple. "I'll be home late. Don't wait up, sweetie, ok?"
Jenny looked at him and for a split second he feared that she knew. But then she nodded and smiled. "All right. I'll see you later."
He got in the car, then backed out of the drive. Once in the street he paused. This is what he had expected. Doubt. Complications. He shook his head, as if to dislodge Jenny's face from his mind. "Flowers," he said out loud. Checking the time, he put the car in gear. Roses, pink ones. That would make Daphne smile.
*I mean really, ya'll, what has gotten into me with all the cheating stories I keep writing?
And lastly, this: A little New Adult with a twist on this group of words
I swear, one more mention of pumpkin spice anything and I will lose my mind.
I tap my keyboard and stare at my co-worker Jane as she swirls her Starbucks cup. She's more in love with pumpkin than with her husband I think. I hate this time of year. Leaves! Sweaters! Fires! Snuggling! Perfect for cute girls who have some hottie to snuggle with, and who can wear leggings with boots and have it not look like they need surgical tools to extract their flesh from them later. I look down at my cotton pants (with a hint of spandex, thank God) and sigh. Even if I liked pumpkin, how many calories are in those things? Probably just as many as my Saturday hot chocolate splurge (made with real milk and probably what amounts to a week's pay in Ghiradelli). Heaven help me, I need a life.
I jump at my name and nearly knock over my (still full) water bottle. Dean stands in my doorway and I'm sure what I have is a deer-in-the-headlights look on my face. Because of course my boss catches me daydreaming and not working. I plaster a smile on my face. "Yes?"
Dean ambles over and leans against my desk, as if whatever he has to say is not insignificant but not urgent either. Figuring out Dean is like navigating a corn maze; seemingly simple, but harder than one would think. On one hand, he's Mr. Boss. Has it all together. Good at his job. On the other hand: his wardrobe. I glimpse now at his checkerboard Vans and wonder if they're against company dress code. He looks like a college kid, and not like he's thirty.
"Working hard?" he asks me.
"Or hardly working," I quip.
He smiles at me. "You got any plans for this weekend?"
As if. "Sadly, no."
He glances at the mile high stack of papers on my desk and then back at me. "You want some?" Before I can even begin to wonder how to respond he speaks again. "I just poured over the company manual and interestingly enough, me taking you out doesn't violate anything." His brown eyes linger on my face and that is the only thing keeping me from peeing my pants. "Well," he says. "What do you say?"