My Fiction Fix #01

Writing Idea #73: Stalker

Stalker:

Asher Augustine – his name sounded like it was pulled out of a hot television series, the Hierarchy or some shit with a wealthy inheritance and partying songs that people can dance to all night but forget all about in the early morning rush.

He was a six-foot-four, blue-eyed, blonde-haired, sports car delinquent with enough to go around and yet he kept it tight, unfortunately. Like every mysterious romance riddled in suspense, we met at a party and No–he didn't get me pregnant. He wasn't a dancer, in fact he was awkward on the floor when his friends danced like professionals. Making girls' hearts race while he wanted to be anywhere else.

Call me a 'stalker' but I sat in my corner at that party and detailed his looks first. That's what every reader wants, isn't it? To paint that picture of every character in a novel they picked up at random on a Friday afternoon when they aren't in the useless cliques of girls who paint their pictures on Instagram and Tik-tok. They show the life every girl wants and behind that phone is a fraud, in true fact. Money, bills, holidays paid by their daddies to show true money when that holiday could've been a year ago, who knew.

Anyway, we met at that party.

I handed him a drink and watched his adams apple jolt as he swallowed. I thought he was the man of my dreams.

Too bad his friend, Jason Swatz...became the biggest twist no one had ever seen coming. Not even me.

Chapter 1:

It was a Wednesday afternoon, my 'stalker hour' as I liked to call it. Asher and his blue eyes roamed the basketball court with his four main buddies, equal delinquents, looking for someone watching. He always did, even while he hadn't remembered the brunette in the corner of Jason Swatz's living room where his parents probably played scrabble.

None of his family members would have known that Macy Durwin lost her v-card on this very carpet, poor thing, I doubt even she loved the man who took it and her heart before they broke up three months later when he was dry-humping his ex. Tough crowd.

"Asher, pass! Pass!" Jason roared, taking the game far too seriously because he was losing his touch.

Asher tossed it over, Jason missed the net and the game was over as they drank their electrolytic water and gave Jason a teasing series of words. Jason took that too seriously too. He shoved off and angrily walked in this direction. I allowed him to pass me as if I were one of the trees parked by his black Volkswagen, "Brutal game, you shouldn't be so hard on yourself." I shouldn't have spoken, but I did behind my new fantasy romance novel.

He paused on the passenger side of the car with his gym bag and moved his brown eyes over to look at me, "Who are you?"

I've been in his English and Economics classes for five years. I'm still so impenetrably invisible to him, but I didn't mind it right now, 'Katia." Just Katia.

He leaned against the door, "Well, Katia, why don't you fuck off or you can relieve my stress from the game in the back? Free ride?" He offered, not moving forward, but the suggestion was...suggestive.

"I'm good without it. Take care now." I told him, standing up from the bench under the trees as I turned to step back up onto my lemon-tree filled front lawn, the apartment building was owned by me, merely because it was passed down and dead parents gave me enough to pay for it, for now.

"Wait, you live here?" He asked me, as if this place was as haunted as an abandoned factory with ghost stories and murders riddled within. I shrugged and moved up the steps, the door closed, the blinds moved in a parting manner when I watched Asher in the background, actually, he was watching the yard I just walked through, before he moved to the gate. I sighed, wishing he'd been there for me, he wasn't.