The Fiction Groupie is hosting a blogfest! Write a snippet of dialogue.
I'm not good at doing dialogue-on-demand (also known as DOD). But what the hey, here goes:
"Very graceful, Damien," I said, smiling. I held out my hand to help him stand.
He pulled himself up alone. "It's your fault, Lilac."
"Mine? How is it MY fault?"
"Simple. Who insisted we go ice-skating?"
"Well, you know..."
He smirked. "Exactly." But then he pulled me into a hug.
"But you know how important this is to me, Damien."
He raised an eyebrow. He was playing with me, I knew. He knew exactly what was so important.
Well, I played along.
I skated around him and did a little twirl. "I've got that major competition later."
"I don't care if you lose."
"But I do," I said softly.
He squeezed my hand. "You can still drop out, and it won't change how I feel about you."
I pulled away. "I can't. You know that. This means a lot to me, and they won't let me quit that easily."
"I just don't want to see you get hurt," he said. His face remained emotionless. Mostly. His eyes betrayed his feelings. Worry. Concern.
He pulled me into a hug and I rested my hands on his muscular chest and my head on his shoulder.
"I can't quit," I whispered. I felt a twinge of something; like I did want to quit if only to make him happy.
"We can leave. Come back later. You can still change your mind. They can't force you to do anything," he murmured into my hair.
I pulled away, suddenly angry. "I've made my decision," I snapped. I didn't wait for his reply. I just turned my back to him and skated away. I know he followed because I heard a thud as he fell down again.
I took my skates off and walked in my socks to the rental place where I'd left my shoes. I remembered too late that Damien had our tickets. I decided to try anyway.
The young man standing in the rental booth had a name tag that read "Clark". I greeted him with-yes, I admit it-the whole Superman thing, ("Hey, Superman, where's your cape?" He replied: "The name's Clark Johnson." Harsh.) then went into full-scale pretty-and-ditzy-girl mode to try to get my shoes back. Unfortunately, Clark was in full-on business-mode. I stopped when a girl walked up, went behind the counter, and let him kiss her. No wonder he was ignoring me.
Damien soon appeared. He got me my shoes and didn't bother trying to talk to me yet. I couldn't run anyway. He was on the track team.
We walked over to a bench. "Lil," he said softly. I shut my eyes and focused on his hand as he gently pushed a stray hair away from my face. "Lil, this is dangerous. Not just any skating competition. It's for people looking for a thrill. People willing to risk their lives. Please don't enter. Please."
I opened my eyes again and looked into his soft blue ones. I was named after my purple eyes, and he always said that's what made him, the school's track star and resident jock, notice me, the girl sitting all by herself at the side.
I nodded my head slowly. "Okay. I won't do it." He hugged me tight and softly kissed me.
"I don't know what I'd do if anything happened to you," he whispered into my ear.
I might have imagined it, but I thought I felt something wet, a tear, on my shoulder, where he'd rested his head.
This is VERY random. I had no idea what I would write until I'd written it. I put down that first line, decided her boyfriend fell down, then chose an ice-skating rink and competition out of the blue.
The whole Clark thing? I read a blog post a short while ago about Tom Welling as Clark Kent...
Current Mood: bored + mildly restless
Current Music: Purple Rain by Prince (just those two words on repeat) + Heels Over Head by Boys Like Girls
*RR has left the building*
Welcome! I'm Riv Re, teenager and aspiring author. I post Sunday, Tuesday, and Thursday. Tuesdays are for book reviews; Thursdays are for a weekly meme called "Character Dolls," which showcases character depictions I made online; and on Sundays I just wing it.
This blog is for my writing misadventures, my reviews, ramblings, and rants. My favorite genre is fantasy, so expect a lot of the unusual.
Warning: I've got an awful sense of humor. Don't blame me if you keel up and die from reading the jokes I crack.
Notice: I hold no responsibility for any deaths caused by previously mentioned jokes.
Enjoy and happy reading!
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