Clare-Dragonfly (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
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rainbowfic2014-05-26 08:20 pm
clare_dragonfly) wrote in rainbowfic2014-05-26 08:20 pm
Entry tags:
Girl Advice
Name: Clare
Story: Falling Into Light
Colors: Antique Brass 10, John Adams was a farmer. Abraham Lincoln was a small-town lawyer. Plato, Socrates were teachers. Jesus was a carpenter. To equate judgment and wisdom with occupation is at best... insulting.
Supplies and Materials: none
Word Count: 1,593
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: none
Notes: More backstory work. This time it's Dylan's turn!
“But, Mom, she doesn’t…”
“I know, honey,” his mom said. She sounded bored, even over the phone line, which just wasn’t fair. She should at least have the common courtesy to sound tired instead of bored, considering it was six hours later in London. “But not everyone is going to understand you, okay? You’re my special boy. Other people are just going to have to deal with the fact that you’re different.”
“But I’m not different,” Dylan protested. In the other room, he heard his dad drop the spatula, and ignored it. “She just thinks I’m weird. And she won’t let me explain.”
“Then she doesn’t deserve you.”
“Of course she does! She’s gorgeous and smart and—“
“If she doesn’t listen, she doesn’t deserve you,” his mom repeated over his complaints. “I have to go, honey. It’s late. Say hello to your dad for me, won’t you?”
“Sure, Mom,” he grumbled. “Good night.”
“Good night. I love you.”
“I love you too.” He hung up the phone and slouched into the kitchen, scratching at a pimple on his cheek. Stupid dull razor. Maybe Dad would buy him some new ones this weekend. He passed the stove where his dad was cooking a stir-fry and sat down at the kitchen table, staring into the fake wood-grain pattern.
“How’s your mom?” his dad asked.
“Fine,” he said. “She just got a contract for some big deal, but her secretary is having to hunt down a contractor and make him do the work he’s supposed to do. You know. The usual.”
“Well, that’s good to hear,” his dad said. “Dinner will be ready in a few minutes.”
Dylan grunted. He wondered if his dad had actually heard any of the things he’d just said about his mom. Not that it made any difference. Her job really did sound the same all the time. There were good things and there were bad things, and the good things always involved getting paid money and the bad things always involved trying to pay people less money than she was supposed to. He wished she would send some of that extra money to him sometime. Maybe then he would be able to afford to take a girl out on a nice date, and she would have no choice but to say yes.
He traced the wood grain pattern with his finger, his thoughts elsewhere. On school, and Christa. He couldn’t believe she wouldn’t even give him the time of day. What did it take to catch the attention of a girl like that, anyway? Football skills? He could get good at football.
His stupid mom wouldn’t give him any good advice. He was sure she knew exactly what he had to say to Christa to get her to go out with him. His mom was a girl too, wasn’t she? She knew how girls thought. Or she remembered.
The plate with the stir-fry on it slid in front of him while he wasn’t paying attention. Automatically, he picked up his fork and began to eat, shoveling meat and vegetables into his mouth without really tasting them. Maybe if he learned to cook like his dad, Christa would like him. Girls liked guys who cooked for them, didn’t they? Maybe he should just invite her to his house to taste his dad’s cooking… no, that might freak her out.
“Hey,” said his dad after a while. Dylan looked up; he’d almost forgotten his dad was there. “You going to tell me what’s on your mind?”
Dylan shook his head and looked back down at his plate. But before he’d had a chance to take another bite, his dad said, “I might not make deals with people all day like your mom, but I can give advice too, you know.”
Dylan shook his head again and snorted. “You’re a cook, Dad. What kind of advice can you give? How to make the perfect stir fry? You’ve told me that one a hundred times.”
“Hey, a cook isn’t all I am. I do know a little about girls.” When Dylan looked at him with narrowed eyes, he added, “It’s just a guess. If it’s something else, I bet I have experience with that, too. Or is it boys? I’ve never dated one of those, but I was one, so I might still be able to help.”
Dylan rolled his eyes. “No, Dad, it’s not boys. It’s a girl, okay?”
“See? I know what it’s like to have girl problems. And I know what it’s like to have a girl and no problems, too. I did get one of them to marry me, you realize.”
“Yeah, but that didn’t last long, did it?” Dylan immediately looked back down at his plate and stabbed a piece of bell pepper with unnecessary force. “Sorry. I know that wasn’t your fault.”
“It wasn’t not my fault, either. But, see? I know both sides of it. So what’s troubling you? What’s her name?”
“Christa.” Just saying the name brought a picture of her to mind, laughing, with her long blonde hair and her perfect figure. What he wouldn’t give to bury his face in those gorgeous breasts…
“Is she in your class?”
Dylan hunched his shoulders. He did not want to talk about this. But his dad had a point. “No. She’s a sophomore.”
“Ahh, well, that’s tough.” There was real sympathy in his dad’s voice. “Not much contact between you, and she probably doesn’t notice freshmen.”
“She notices other freshmen.”
“Oh, is that it? She’s going out with a friend of yours?”
He shook his head. “Not really. At least… I don’t think they’re really going out. But Joe talks to her a lot. And she seems to like it.”
“Have you tried talking to her?”
“Yeah. She just ignores me. Or she says hi and just goes back to talking to her friends. She doesn’t think I’m worth her time.”
“Maybe you’re not.”
Dylan’s head snapped up and he glared at his dad. Unbelievably, his dad was smiling. “Well, what do you think about that?”
He couldn’t say anything. “That’s… that’s a really mean thing to say!” He couldn’t swear at his dad. His dad probably didn’t even know any curse words—he wouldn’t be able to handle it. And Dylan didn’t want to be just as mean back. But what the hell was that supposed to mean? He wasn’t worth Christa’s time? “Of course I’m worth her time! I’m… I’m a nice guy. I would treat her well. Find things to do that would be fun for both of us.”
“Not like Joe?”
Dylan shook his head. “That’s not…” He sighed as he was forced to think about it. “Joe’s a good guy too. If they go on a date I’m sure they’ll have a good time. But I want her to have a good time with me!”
“Have you considered other girls?”
He shrugged. “She’s the one I want.”
His dad nodded. “That’s the way it goes, sometimes. Has Joe considered other girls or is he focused on just her?”
“I don’t know. He never said anything.” Dylan thought about what he’d seen Joe doing with girls. “He talks to all the girls, I guess. He’s kind of a flirt.”
“Maybe he won’t mind if you start talking to Christa, then.”
“But I told you, if I try to talk to her she just goes back to talking to her friends.”
“And I said maybe you’re not making it worth her time.” His dad leaned forward. “When you talk to her, what are you thinking about? Are you thinking she’ll never give you the time of day? Are you just thinking about how pretty she is?”
“I guess so.”
“Well, start thinking about how you’re going to be worth her time. Don’t be arrogant, but be confident. Maybe you can come up with a specific date to take her on and imagine how much fun she’ll have on it. Keep that in mind when you approach her.” He pointed his finger at Dylan. “Think about success, not about failure.”
Dylan thought about it. It did make him feel a little better. “Do you think that will work?”
“I can’t guarantee anything.” His dad shrugged and took a sip of water. “But it’s at least going to make you feel better than thinking of yourself as a failure all the time. And maybe once you get some confidence you’ll find that there are other girls interested in you. I know, I know, you don’t want other girls, but it will feel pretty good to see other girls smiling at you, won’t it?”
Dylan thought about that. It definitely made him feel better. “Yeah. I guess it will.” He sat back in his chair. “Okay, I guess a cook can give better advice than a Vice President sometimes.”
His dad laughed. “I figured there was some reason you stuck with me instead of running off to London with your mom.”
Dylan looked back down at his dinner, shoveling some into his mouth. The truth was he knew his dad wanted him, and he wasn’t sure his mom felt the same. That was why he stayed here in the States. Though if he visited his mom over the summer sometime, he might have something to talk to girls about… “Mom says hi, by the way.”
His dad reached over and patted him on the shoulder. “Maybe next time she’ll call more than ten minutes before she wants to go to bed.”
“Maybe.”
Story: Falling Into Light
Colors: Antique Brass 10, John Adams was a farmer. Abraham Lincoln was a small-town lawyer. Plato, Socrates were teachers. Jesus was a carpenter. To equate judgment and wisdom with occupation is at best... insulting.
Supplies and Materials: none
Word Count: 1,593
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: none
Notes: More backstory work. This time it's Dylan's turn!
“But, Mom, she doesn’t…”
“I know, honey,” his mom said. She sounded bored, even over the phone line, which just wasn’t fair. She should at least have the common courtesy to sound tired instead of bored, considering it was six hours later in London. “But not everyone is going to understand you, okay? You’re my special boy. Other people are just going to have to deal with the fact that you’re different.”
“But I’m not different,” Dylan protested. In the other room, he heard his dad drop the spatula, and ignored it. “She just thinks I’m weird. And she won’t let me explain.”
“Then she doesn’t deserve you.”
“Of course she does! She’s gorgeous and smart and—“
“If she doesn’t listen, she doesn’t deserve you,” his mom repeated over his complaints. “I have to go, honey. It’s late. Say hello to your dad for me, won’t you?”
“Sure, Mom,” he grumbled. “Good night.”
“Good night. I love you.”
“I love you too.” He hung up the phone and slouched into the kitchen, scratching at a pimple on his cheek. Stupid dull razor. Maybe Dad would buy him some new ones this weekend. He passed the stove where his dad was cooking a stir-fry and sat down at the kitchen table, staring into the fake wood-grain pattern.
“How’s your mom?” his dad asked.
“Fine,” he said. “She just got a contract for some big deal, but her secretary is having to hunt down a contractor and make him do the work he’s supposed to do. You know. The usual.”
“Well, that’s good to hear,” his dad said. “Dinner will be ready in a few minutes.”
Dylan grunted. He wondered if his dad had actually heard any of the things he’d just said about his mom. Not that it made any difference. Her job really did sound the same all the time. There were good things and there were bad things, and the good things always involved getting paid money and the bad things always involved trying to pay people less money than she was supposed to. He wished she would send some of that extra money to him sometime. Maybe then he would be able to afford to take a girl out on a nice date, and she would have no choice but to say yes.
He traced the wood grain pattern with his finger, his thoughts elsewhere. On school, and Christa. He couldn’t believe she wouldn’t even give him the time of day. What did it take to catch the attention of a girl like that, anyway? Football skills? He could get good at football.
His stupid mom wouldn’t give him any good advice. He was sure she knew exactly what he had to say to Christa to get her to go out with him. His mom was a girl too, wasn’t she? She knew how girls thought. Or she remembered.
The plate with the stir-fry on it slid in front of him while he wasn’t paying attention. Automatically, he picked up his fork and began to eat, shoveling meat and vegetables into his mouth without really tasting them. Maybe if he learned to cook like his dad, Christa would like him. Girls liked guys who cooked for them, didn’t they? Maybe he should just invite her to his house to taste his dad’s cooking… no, that might freak her out.
“Hey,” said his dad after a while. Dylan looked up; he’d almost forgotten his dad was there. “You going to tell me what’s on your mind?”
Dylan shook his head and looked back down at his plate. But before he’d had a chance to take another bite, his dad said, “I might not make deals with people all day like your mom, but I can give advice too, you know.”
Dylan shook his head again and snorted. “You’re a cook, Dad. What kind of advice can you give? How to make the perfect stir fry? You’ve told me that one a hundred times.”
“Hey, a cook isn’t all I am. I do know a little about girls.” When Dylan looked at him with narrowed eyes, he added, “It’s just a guess. If it’s something else, I bet I have experience with that, too. Or is it boys? I’ve never dated one of those, but I was one, so I might still be able to help.”
Dylan rolled his eyes. “No, Dad, it’s not boys. It’s a girl, okay?”
“See? I know what it’s like to have girl problems. And I know what it’s like to have a girl and no problems, too. I did get one of them to marry me, you realize.”
“Yeah, but that didn’t last long, did it?” Dylan immediately looked back down at his plate and stabbed a piece of bell pepper with unnecessary force. “Sorry. I know that wasn’t your fault.”
“It wasn’t not my fault, either. But, see? I know both sides of it. So what’s troubling you? What’s her name?”
“Christa.” Just saying the name brought a picture of her to mind, laughing, with her long blonde hair and her perfect figure. What he wouldn’t give to bury his face in those gorgeous breasts…
“Is she in your class?”
Dylan hunched his shoulders. He did not want to talk about this. But his dad had a point. “No. She’s a sophomore.”
“Ahh, well, that’s tough.” There was real sympathy in his dad’s voice. “Not much contact between you, and she probably doesn’t notice freshmen.”
“She notices other freshmen.”
“Oh, is that it? She’s going out with a friend of yours?”
He shook his head. “Not really. At least… I don’t think they’re really going out. But Joe talks to her a lot. And she seems to like it.”
“Have you tried talking to her?”
“Yeah. She just ignores me. Or she says hi and just goes back to talking to her friends. She doesn’t think I’m worth her time.”
“Maybe you’re not.”
Dylan’s head snapped up and he glared at his dad. Unbelievably, his dad was smiling. “Well, what do you think about that?”
He couldn’t say anything. “That’s… that’s a really mean thing to say!” He couldn’t swear at his dad. His dad probably didn’t even know any curse words—he wouldn’t be able to handle it. And Dylan didn’t want to be just as mean back. But what the hell was that supposed to mean? He wasn’t worth Christa’s time? “Of course I’m worth her time! I’m… I’m a nice guy. I would treat her well. Find things to do that would be fun for both of us.”
“Not like Joe?”
Dylan shook his head. “That’s not…” He sighed as he was forced to think about it. “Joe’s a good guy too. If they go on a date I’m sure they’ll have a good time. But I want her to have a good time with me!”
“Have you considered other girls?”
He shrugged. “She’s the one I want.”
His dad nodded. “That’s the way it goes, sometimes. Has Joe considered other girls or is he focused on just her?”
“I don’t know. He never said anything.” Dylan thought about what he’d seen Joe doing with girls. “He talks to all the girls, I guess. He’s kind of a flirt.”
“Maybe he won’t mind if you start talking to Christa, then.”
“But I told you, if I try to talk to her she just goes back to talking to her friends.”
“And I said maybe you’re not making it worth her time.” His dad leaned forward. “When you talk to her, what are you thinking about? Are you thinking she’ll never give you the time of day? Are you just thinking about how pretty she is?”
“I guess so.”
“Well, start thinking about how you’re going to be worth her time. Don’t be arrogant, but be confident. Maybe you can come up with a specific date to take her on and imagine how much fun she’ll have on it. Keep that in mind when you approach her.” He pointed his finger at Dylan. “Think about success, not about failure.”
Dylan thought about it. It did make him feel a little better. “Do you think that will work?”
“I can’t guarantee anything.” His dad shrugged and took a sip of water. “But it’s at least going to make you feel better than thinking of yourself as a failure all the time. And maybe once you get some confidence you’ll find that there are other girls interested in you. I know, I know, you don’t want other girls, but it will feel pretty good to see other girls smiling at you, won’t it?”
Dylan thought about that. It definitely made him feel better. “Yeah. I guess it will.” He sat back in his chair. “Okay, I guess a cook can give better advice than a Vice President sometimes.”
His dad laughed. “I figured there was some reason you stuck with me instead of running off to London with your mom.”
Dylan looked back down at his dinner, shoveling some into his mouth. The truth was he knew his dad wanted him, and he wasn’t sure his mom felt the same. That was why he stayed here in the States. Though if he visited his mom over the summer sometime, he might have something to talk to girls about… “Mom says hi, by the way.”
His dad reached over and patted him on the shoulder. “Maybe next time she’ll call more than ten minutes before she wants to go to bed.”
“Maybe.”
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Nicely done!
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All ragging on Dylan aside, I enjoyed this. Thank you for posting.
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