Start Writing Fiction | Week 8
It’s the last week of the course! This story was my final assignment, and I received feedback on it from other people in the class.
I sat at the first table in the study section of the library, waiting for my new tutor to show up. Mom said he would be in a red sweatshirt.
I tucked my hair behind my ear and opened up my notebook. Chewing on the end of my pen, I thought back to the day dreams I had earlier in English class, so I started scribbling away:
He took her by the hand and led her into the night…
It was that night he embraced her with warm…
“Greetings!” A voice bellowed.
I looked up and saw him wearing a bright red sweatshirt. He was tall, skinny, blonde and beautiful, “ur-are you John Paul Jones?”
“Uh—yeah! But, you can call me JPJ,” he moved his hand to his chest and flung his hair back with a shake of his head, “It’s great to meet you,” he sounded like a total surfer. My heart was racing, he definitely didn’t look like someone who graduated first in his class, or that’s what mom said.
“I’ll take a seat and we’ll get started?” He pulled a chair out, and I realized my mouth was wide open…and so was my notebook! So, I slammed them both shut.
“Yeah, I need to get my grades up or else I’ll need to repeat freshman year,” I admitted, out loud, oh my gosh I don’t even know this guy.
“What do you think we ditch this library scene and go outside to study?” his blue eyes peered at me, and his blond hair was shining in the light as he brushed it back with his fingers.
“Sure—I could go for that,” I sounded nervous.
“Cool. Let’s boogie,” he stood up and headed for the entrance. I had to grab my things quickly and jog to catch up.
Then, he held the door for me as we walked outside.
I held the door for her as we walked outside. It was nice out, a sunny 60 degrees in Pure Michigan. Warm enough to take my sweatshirt off.
Mia was definitely cute. She was an exact image of her mother, but a good 20 lbs lighter, so that meant she had smaller boobs. With no presence on social media, I wasn’t able to look her up ahead of time, but I did find her mom on multiple platforms: Twitter, Facebook, Tinder…
Her daughter was quietly beautiful. Her long eyelashes batted at me when she spoke and then I saw her brown tiger eyes that glowed orange in the sunlight. I was strangely attracted ever since I saw her across the library, feverishly writing in her notebook.
As I sat in the grass next to her and went over her Biology notes from that day, she would make silly comments about her notetaking, “I actually think you have excellent handwriting and your notes are concise,” I nudged her as we were getting to the end of our tutor time. “So, why are you failing these classes? You have a bright mind and take good notes. Better yet, why aren’t you on Twitter or Facebook?”
Her face turned a blush pink as I spun questions her way. The sun made her hair shine and her skin glow, “Well, is this being asked on tutor time, or off tutor time?” She nudged back at me.
“Let me give you a ride home, and we can chat off tutor time,” I nudged her back. “My car is right over there,” I motioned to the parking lot.
“Alright, I guess that will be alright,” she smiled back at me. We grabbed our backpacks and headed to the parking lot. I held the car door for her to get in on the passengers side.
He held the car door for me to get in. My heart was racing in my chest, and I felt a chill that was making me shiver.
He got in the driver’s seat. “Hey, you look a little cold, put this on,” he handed me the red sweatshirt.
“Thanks, but you don’t have to–”
“I insist!” His smile was encouraging. I took a deep breath as I slid his sweatshirt over my head. His smell hit me, like a wave of aromas that I have never experienced before. Just be cool, is what I kept thinking to myself. I’ve never been in a guy’s car before, and the crazy thing is he seemed interested in me. At least interested enough to have an off tutor time chat. I’m sure my mom isn’t even home to see me being dropped off by JPJ, but she might flip if she finds out.
He broke the silence, “So, uh, you’re a really pretty girl, why aren’t you on social media?”
His confidence was attractive and I felt comfortable sharing, “I see other people my age on their phones, all the time, and I don’t have a life on my phone, and I don’t feel the need to scroll through other people’s lives because I have a house of books to read about other people’s lives.” I felt like I was rambling at this point.
“So, you do a lot of reading?”
“Yes, I do. My mom forced me to read and write by locking me in my bedroom with nothing but books and notebooks.” I felt okay sharing this with him. “Right now, I’m reading a lot of Shakespeare because of my English class, but I fell in love with his sonnets.”
JPJ’s face lit right up and he went into character, “Doth thou the stars are fire; Doubt that the sun doth move; Doubt truth to be a liar; But never doubt that I love.”
As he finished, I applauded and was smiling from ear to ear, “Hamlet–my favorite!”
He shook his blonde hair back, perfectly it stayed, and he put his sunglasses on, “Let me get you home before your mom starts to worry.” He started his car and pulled out of the library parking lot.
He gets me.
I share more of my notes & assignments:
Start Writing Fiction | Coursework