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Young Writers Society



Distaste (rated for language)

by Drawers


Flies buzzed around my head like I was already dead and rotting. My clothes were like Saran Wrap against my body and the fan I was holding in front of my face wasn’t doing a thing.

Hair hung in limp waves around my face, falling heavily below my shoulders. He shouldn’t see me like this, sweaty and tear-stained.

“I… tried to call you.”

He couldn’t think of anything more original? A lie would have been better than that. This wasn’t a goddamn movie.

I could see him looking at me and trying to convince himself that he’d caught me at a bad time. That this wasn’t “normal” for me.

“Is there something wrong?” I asked him finally. He shook his head. “Stop,” I told him. “You’ll get whiplash.”

He covered his hands with his eyes. His brain was so transparent. I could see his wheels turning and his eyes rolling towards Heaven. ‘God help me,’ he was saying.

“Don’t use the lord’s name in vain,” I said automatically. See, mom? You did teach me something.

He looked at me again, confused. I smiled for the first time all day. “Never mind. What were you saying?”

He stared at me for a while. I kicked off my sandals and poured the rest of my water over my feet. He watched in distaste. At a strip club, pouring liquids over your feet would have been sexy. It just went to show how much of a lie “attractiveness” was.

“You tried to call me,” I prompted. “But you couldn’t?”

“Yeah,” he said vaguely. “The line was busy.”

I looked at my feet and wiggled my toes. “I didn’t talk to anyone last night.”

“Well it was busy.”

It wasn’t busy.

“It wasn’t busy,” I said loudly, finally looking up at him.

He rolled his eyes. “Grace, it was busy.”

“Jay, I don’t really care that you didn’t call. I don’t even give a fuck that you’re lying. You’re staring at me like I’m a dead person and I don’t care about that either.”

“Then what--”

“I cared about you, Jay,” I interrupted him and looked back to my feet. Pretty feet. I’d always liked my feet. “And that’s saying something. But I cared about you because you cared about me. And I’m upset that I’m just figuring this out now. Because why did you care about me?” I watched his face. He was trying so hard to keep his expression blank. “Because I didn’t look like this.”

He wasn’t looking at me. His eyes had slid off me and were resting on something over my shoulder.

I closed my eyes and tilted my head back to soak up the sun. When I opened them, he had gone.


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Points: 1324
Reviews: 2

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Fri Mar 26, 2010 10:26 pm
emintheocean wrote a review...



This is interesting. I like the overall theme that I got from reading it, the effect of outward attraction on romantic relationships kind of thing. I think it was original, especially the plot that you created around that theme. It left me with a mind full of possibilities about the character's history, where they were, who they were, etc. I wanted to know more about them, but at the same time I liked the fact that little detail was given. Great job!




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Points: 1280
Reviews: 2

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Thu Mar 25, 2010 2:46 am
mylifemypain wrote a review...



Hi I'm Cassie. I am going to review your story. :)

"He covered his hands with his eyes." This should be he covered his eyes with his hands, you just messed up the order.

I didn't find anything else wrong with this, although I might be wrong. All in all Its really good so far.





Treat all disasters as if they were trivialities but never treat a triviality as if it were a disaster.
— Quentin Crisp