Writing Resources from Fifteen Minutes of Fiction

Evan

He says my name quietly, slowly, as though he chewed it in his mouth before it came out. I laugh, long and hard. I hope he doesn't see that I'm screaming inside. My heart is beating like a drum. Boom. Bang. Boom. Boom. Oh, I hope he doesn't hear it.

His eyes look at me. Those deep green eyes. Those eyes that have seen worlds and yet have never left his hometown. His eyes pull me into him. He must think I'm crazy. I keep pausing and not talking back to him when he asks me a question or tells me something that needs an answer. I can't help it. He has beautiful eyes.

He's talking. He's talking of the girl. I hate her. I've never seen her but I'll bet she's beautiful. She probably has long, blonde hair that always looks perfect. My stringy, short, dirty-blonde hair is not his type. He would never look at me that way. I'm his best friend, he says. He has no idea that he's the reason I cry myself to sleep. Just thinking of him and how we'll never be.

I can't think when he's around. All I can think about is the way his hand grabs on excitedly to mine as he tells me of kissing his girl. All I can think about is the feel of his hand on mine. All I can hear is my heart beating. Boom. Bang. Boom. Boom.

I love you Evan. And you'll never know.

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