But anyway, I'm in a sharing mood. Maybe it's the season. Maybe I'm being lazy. Maybe I need my ego stroked. *shrug* Take your pick.
So this is the beginning (first page) of that contemporary WIP I just finished, titled Sidekick. I don't know if it will remain the beginning—you know how that goes. It's still a cute, wrinkly rough draft, mind you. Insert more disclaimers here.
It's always the same pattern: Garret gets swarmed by girls; he picks one, dates her, gets bored, and breaks her heart. So when he sighs after Trina practically shoves her tongue down his throat, I know what's coming. It might not happen tonight, but it will happen.
I must prepare for the oncoming barrage. Since I am his best friend, all the girls campaigning to be the next trophy on Garret Taylor's arm will suddenly want to be my friends. I used to like the attention, but after three years of high school I'm sick of talking to hot girls who'd rather date him than me.
Before Trina gropes him in public, Garret stands and says something to her. I can't tell what it is over the blaring music, but it can't be the break up because she gives him that I'm-trying-to-be-the-understanding-girlfriend smile. Then she hugs him, and he pulls away first.
I give her a week tops.
He comes over to the couch where I'm sitting with a beer in hand, though I barely sip at it. I don't really like the stuff, but you can't be a football player without at least looking like you love to get drunk. Especially after smashing your rivals at Homecoming. Garret caught the winning touchdown. Of course.
He plops down next to me, running a hand through his shaggy blond hair. "This is boring."
"You haven't had enough to drink, then."
He laughs. "That's boring, too. Let's get outta here, Russ."
And there we go! Sidekick! I better hit publish before I chicken out. Sharing writing is harder now than ever. *hides*