Welcome to my (fairly) regular weekly Flash Fiction Friday post, where I take the prompt words left in the comments of the previous week’s FFF post and use them in a new bit of flash.
Today’s flash fiction uses the 11 words (suck – my – dick – because – if – you – don’t – you’re – gonna – be – dead)that were left in the comments of the April 20 FFF post.
Technically they were given as a phrase and not individual words, but since they are song lyrics, and I’m not allowed to use those in published stories, I figured I’d play it safe and not use them put together like that in flash fiction, either (besides, I couldn’t quite figure out what to do with them as a phrase and still keep it blog-safe 😏 😇 💗).
This week’s scene picks up immediately where I left off way back on November 17, 2017 with Misadventures with Andy and Grant. You can expand the spoiler tag if you missed that scene or want a refresher. But basically, Andy and Grant are best friends, and Andy has just suggested that they bump their relationship up to the next level. Grant ended that last scene by saying, “Promise me this won’t fuck up what we already have.”
Uses the 3 prompt words (whiskey – laundry – electric guitar) left in the comments of the previous week’s Flash Fiction Friday post.
Told from Andy’s 3rd-person POV:
“What’s your deal?” Grant asked.
Andy jumped and shifted the bulky laundry basket he was carrying. “What do you mean?”
Grant held open the door to All Washed Up, and Andy stepped through. “I asked you a question three times. You ignoring me?”
“Sorry. Just zoning.” And stressing out, second and third guessing his earlier resolve to see if Grant wanted to—hell, he didn’t even know what. Simply add “benefits” to their friendship or explore a relationship? He shook his head and heaved a heavy sigh. Would a failed attempt ruin their easy rapport? Would simply suggesting it make things awkward between them?
“Duuuuuude.” Grant hitched his head toward the bank of dryers.
Andy’s eyes bugged at the sight of blue jean covered legs sticking out of one of the upper dryers, ass wiggling to the strum of an electric guitar as Chris Stapleton sang the chorus of Tennessee Whiskey over the laundromat’s speaker system.
“Dibs,” Grant said.
“What? Look closer. I think that’s a woman.”
Grant kept his gaze glued to that squirming behind as they strode farther into the room. “Shit.” Then he shrugged and opened a couple of washers. “You get all the luck.”
“Bullshit. I’m single, too.”
“Two words: ‘Dreamy Daniel.’”
Andy’s jaw tightened as he sorted the dirty clothes. “He ditched me after a month!”
Grant loosed one of his trademark theatrical groans. “Quit going into every relationship hoping for a happily ever after. Live for the moment and appreciate the memories.”
“Is that all you really want?”
A stiff jerk of one shoulder was all the reply Andy got as Grant tossed socks into one of the open machines.
“I know it’s not.” Andy gentled his tone. “You’ve been burned too many times, but underneath, you still want your Prince Charming.”
“Whatever.” Grant flung a pair of jeans into the other open washer with far more force than needed. “Prince Charming never wants me.”
“But, what if…” Andy stopped and bit his lip. What if, indeed. What if Grant got pissed at the mere suggestion?
Grant stopped taking his frustrations out on their mingled underwear long enough to stare back at Andy with his eyebrows reaching for the ceiling fan. At least it wasn’t a glower.
“What if…” Andy swallowed and dropped his gaze to the marred linoleum as if the words he searched for were hidden somewhere in its random pattern. “What if he’s not Prince Charming? What if he’s just Prince…Average but Amiable? Who maybe already likes you?”
The silence between them stretched through at least a third of Reba McEntire’s Promise Me Love. Finally, Andy raised his face.
Grant’s expression was thoughtful. They stared at each other through the chorus before Grant finally replied.
“Promise me this won’t fuck up what we already have.”
This new scene is told from Andy’s 3rd-person POV:
Doing Laundry - Part 2
Andy pursed his lips but nodded. “I promise I’m gonnatry not to fuck up what we already have.”
“You won’t be weird?” Grant raised one neat brow. “Becauseifyou turn into a dick and this friendship goes down the crapper…well…” Grant sighed. “That would suck. And not in a good way.”
“Why would I turn into a dick?” Andy rubbed the back of his neck and ignored the comment about things getting weird. “Weird” was probably an inevitable phase considering they’d been best friends since middle school. “Just…don’t set unrealistic expectations, or give up too early. Give us a chance.”
Grant lifted his chin, but Andy was one of the few people who understood that the reflexive tough-guy facade Grant displayed was cover for a fragile young man. “I need someone I can trust to pour my heart out to.” Grant’s voice quivered, and the troubled look in his eyes sent a shiver up Andy’s spine. “You’re that someone. I can’t lose that…you. Our friendship is the only thing that keeps me from being dead inside.”
Andy smoothed down his shirt. Maybe Grant was right. Maybe the risk was too great. But, he couldn’t help thinking that it might actually be the best idea he’d ever had. He took a deep breath and gazed steadily into Grant’s eyes. “We can take things really, really slow.”
“Okay.” Grant nodded and tapped the tip of his index finger on Andy’s chest. “Really slow.”
Leave as many prompt words as you like in the comments, but I’ll only promise to use one from each contributor in my next flash fiction post (although I’ll try to use them all).