Welcome To Fake Paradise!

This is the personal writing blog for Joana Hill, creative writing major extraordinaire! Here you'll find the random ramblings and occasional writings of a girl obsessed with gay romance and the yaoi manga FAKE. You've been warned.

Sunday, May 8, 2011

Scene Sunday (Starstruck)

Don't forget that you have until the end of May to enter to win a signed copy of How To (Un)Cage a Girl by Francesca Lia Block! In case you missed it, details can be found here.

Anyway, Starstruck is a novel I started a while back but I haven't gotten too far on it. I tend to do that a lot, just start novels and not really do anything with them XD I'll probably get back to it, though. It's about a guy who unwittingly meets a pop star while at said pop star's concert and their wacky adventures (wacky guaranteed, given the language barrier they sometimes face). Enjoy!

Friday nights, for me, had always been spent at home. I just never had an interest in going out to parties, getting drunk, and picking up girls for sex I knew would be awkward the next morning. And the harder I worked at studying, the more likely it was I’d be able to get scholarships. My parents were excited about me wanting to be a lawyer, but it wasn’t cheap.

That particular Friday night, however, I found myself with an opportunity.

“Do you even have anything you could wear to a concert?” Will said as he tossed tings out of my closet. I sat on my bed, laying across it and holding a brochure for a college in New York over my head. My vision was soon obscured by a piece of grey fabric.

“Hey, I thought I lost this,” I said after recognizing it as my long-lost hoodie. “Can’t I just wear this and some jeans?”

Will looked at me like I had just suggested we rob a bank. “I will not be seen with you at an Alejandro Paz concert with you dressed like a hobo.” He then snatched the hoodie from me and chucked it into a corner. He ran a hand through his blond hair, pulling his bangs from his face. “C’mon, Cole, get some motivation.”

“I’m the one that won the tickets.” I waved the two, narrow concert tickets in the air. “I can always ask someone else.”

Will froze as he dug through some of my pants. Before I knew it, he was on me. “You wouldn’t do that to me, Nicolas.” We just laid there for a while. I was daring him in my mind to push it farther than that, but I knew he wouldn’t. He never had the guts.

“Try me.” I pushed him away and put my bare feet down on the floor. “I’ve never even hear this guy before. There’s still time to sell the tickets. I’m sure someone’s willing to drop their evening plans.”

“Fine, dress however you want.” Will threw his arms in the air, as if I were being supremely difficult. Then he flopped over, ruining all the work he’d put into arranging his own clothes--- not that there was much. His shirt and pants were both skin-tight. He was clearly hoping to score with some groupies.

I shook my head and went to look at my clothes for myself. To tell the truth, I’d gotten the tickets because I knew Will would want to go. By the time he knew Alejandro Paz was coming to our city, tickets had long-since sold-out. But a radio station was holding a “be x number caller and win” contest for a pair, and I figured there was no harm in trying. I’d won, obviously. But will and I had an odd relationship, and that wasn’t the first time I’d threatened to sell the tickets.

In the end, though, I knew I wouldn’t. But Will didn’t know that, and that’s how I was getting out of wearing spandex or leather that night. Not that I owned either.

“If we don’t get there soon, we won’t be able to park.” Will was staring at the front display of his flip phone, looking irritated. A quick glance at my own alarm clock, though, didn’t quite convince me.

“We have two hours.”

“Yeah, and if Alejandro Paz is already there, so are the fans,” he said. He came up behind me and grabbed a shirt and pair of jeans. The jeans, of course, were the only pair of skinny jeans I owned, courtesy of an old girlfriend. I had no clue why I had even kept those.

Will glared at me when I went to put them back, so I sighed. “Fine. Go downstairs and eat something, because we’re not stopping. I’ll change and get my bike ready.”

The mere thought of taking my motorcycle seemed to push away his bad mood, and he left me to it. Even the thought of clinging to me for dear life on the highway didn’t seem to ruin it.

I glanced in the mirror on my closet door. My brown hair was shaggy. I guess the least I could do for Will was gel it back.

1 comment:

  1. Sounds like a fun read, and I love reading about famous rock stars/musicians :D Even the fictional kind ;) I've written about 'em too!