June Song Writing Prompt – “Pinch Me”

***Apologies for being late on this. Was having technical difficulties, and I’m no good when that happens!***



This week’s song is “Pinch Me” by the Barenaked Ladies. Here’s a link if you want to have a listen:

For this prompt, I revisited some characters from an earlier flash fiction peice (one of the photo prompts). Here is that one if you’d like to read it first.

Always Watching

And now for this week’s peice….

My head pounded, and my stomach heaved and roiled with every tiny movement I made. Which was just shitty, really. If I was going to be stuck feeling like I’d been chewed up and spit out, like I had the hangover of the century, I’d have at least liked to have enjoyed the night before. Hell, I’d had one damned drink. One. Couldn’t exactly blame feeling like ass on that. No, this was all because of my stupidity—acting without thinking, giving in to something I wanted with no thought to the consequences.

It’d been a kiss—well, technically, two—and that alone shouldn’t be enough to pitch me over the edge. Shouldn’t have me panicking and feeling sick. Yet, here I was. Ready to upchuck all over the bed at the thought of what I’d done, what I’d potentially ruined.

So many things fought for dominance inside me—embarrassment, anger, fear. And beneath it all—fuck me—yearning. As powerful as all of those other emotions were, I wanted more. Now that I knew how his lips felt, how he tasted, how perfectly he fit against me, going back behind the façade was going to be even harder.

I should be used to it. This wasn’t something new. I’d accepted this, hiding what I really wanted, being who and what everyone else wanted me to be. And it hadn’t been bad. It wasn’t as though I was suffering—at least I’d convinced myself I wasn’t. Until I met him.


I cursed and sat up, swinging my legs over the edge of the bed. Feet sinking into the plush rug—and only Dad would have a fucking rug like this in what was supposed to be rustic cabin—I leaned over and rested my head in my hands.

Pushing aside the selfish want, the desire I felt for Trevor, I focused on the worry. The fear that I’d screwed up the friendship we had. Not that we were necessarily close or anything. More friends of friends, really. A start to something more, maybe. But last night could have ruined all of that. What if he didn’t want anything to do with me, anymore? He’d practically shoved me away before leaving.

Not before laying the best kiss you’d ever had on you. One that blew away even those you’d secretly fantasized about for as long as you can remember.

I reached out, blindly feeling along the bedside table for my phone. Bringing it in front of me, I entered the passcode and immediately went into my contacts. I’d had his number since the day we’d met, but had never called or texted him, leaving that for the others in our group. Even now, I hesitated to hit “send a message”, debating with myself. Finally, I opened a new message, because the least I could do was smooth this over, so that things weren’t awkward between us. That wouldn’t be fair to him or any of our other friends. I’d make him understand it was a mistake and I hadn’t meant anything by it—basically, I was going to lie, like I always did—and if I had to, I’d beg him not to hold it against me. Not because it’d kill me not to see him practically every day, but for the good of our group of friends.

-Hey. Look, I’m really sorry about last night. I don’t know what I was thinking…Obviously, I wasn’t. Hope everything is all right between us. Friends, still?

I hit send before I could second-guess myself, and a strong wave of nausea rolled over me. The phone wobbled in my trembling hands. I tightened my grip and waited. And waited. Just as I was about to give up, that damned ellipsis bubble popped up, telling me he was responding.

-Shuda nown u wr d typ 2 txt w/propr gram & pnktu8n. 🙂

Laughing and shaking my head, I typed quickly as I could to respond.

-WTF, Trev? It shouldn’t take me that long to figure out what a text says.

I waited a moment after sending that to peck out another message.

-So? Are we all right?

-1, u typd WTF so still hope 4U.

I snorted, then sighed in relief when I read his next words—if they could be called words.

-2, yah, wer gud. Wld take more thn sumthin lk tht 2 ruin fship.

Clearly, the kiss had meant more to me than it had to him. And that was a good thing. It really was, but I couldn’t help but feel some disappointment that what had been so huge and, beneath all the other shit, wonderful for me had been so trivial to him.

-I’m glad. I shouldn’t have done that, no matter how much I wanted…

I shook my head and shifted my finger to delete the second sentence. No use in admitting anything to him and—

“Oh fuck! No, no, no… Fuck!”

The message sent. I’d hit the motherfucking send key instead of the delete. And even though it wasn’t complete, that message had the power to make things much worse than a spur-of-the-moment kiss did.

Shakily, I typed again, hoping I could smooth it all over. Maybe Trevor was having a good laugh at my expense. Not ideal, but preferable to him being upset with me, I guess.

-As a friend, could you just ignore that last message? Fucking clumsy fingers got away from me there. I just want things to go back to the way they were, yeah? Friends and hanging out and all of that. Nothing more. Can we do that?

When there was no response, no ellipsis bubble, panic choked me. I sent one more word. Just one, and prayed he’d understand.


“Hey, Eli?”

I jumped at the sound of Oliva’s voice, dropping the phone on the floor as I spun around. She smiled apologetically.

“Sorry. Just wanted to let you know we should get going if we’re going to make it in time for lunch at your parents’.” The apology in her expression shifted to amused indulgence. “You forgot didn’t you? Well, get ready. Everyone’s gone, and we need to head out.”

“Sam?” I forced out, wondering if everyone included my roommate.

“Yeah, he had to study for a test, but he’s meeting us back here later. If that’s all right with you?” She lifted a brow.

“You know it is.” I stooped down and grabbed my phone. “Just need to change. Want to warm up the car?”

“Sure.” She hesitated a moment. “Are you okay?”

“Of course,” I said cheerfully, even though I knew she’d hear the lie beneath the words. She always did—a result of knowing each other since we were in diapers—but at least she’d get the message that I didn’t want to talk about it, now.

She sighed but nodded before slipping out of the room. I glanced at the phone—still no response from Trevor—then tossed it on the bed before going through the motions of washing up and getting dressed.

The entire drive to my parents, I waited for the ding of my phone to tell me I’d received a text and nothing. My stomach was in knots as I pulled into the drive—more so than it normally when my presence, along with that of my parent-approved girl, was required. It really was sickening, I thought as we walked up to the front door. Staring at the solid wood in front of me, I railed against myself for being such a coward, for not being me. But, I realized, that wasn’t an option. Growing up in this house, sometimes, it was hard to tell if I even existed.

I didn’t, not really. Here, I had to be the perfect son, the excellent student, and basically whatever they expected of me. The roles I filled, or failed to fill, were the only things they saw. Me? The real me didn’t exist in their world. And I’d made sure that person didn’t exist anywhere else, either. That no one saw him. Until last night.

How fucking pathetic was that?

“Come on,” Olivia murmured, catching my hand in hers. “We’ll stay an hour then I’ll say I have to study or something, so we can get the hell outta here, okay?”

I gave a jerky nod, and together, as always, we went inside to face my parents. It wasn’t until we were seated at the dining room table, starting to eat—with Dad beginning his interrogation on all that was happening in my life—that the ding of my phone sounded. Twice in rapid succession.

Mom frowned at me as I pulled it out of my pocket.

“Sorry,” I said quickly, knowing how much she hated any technology around when it was supposed to be family time. “Just going to turn it off.”

She nodded approvingly and turned back to her soup. I glanced at the screen as I flicked the device to silent, and my heart stopped. Stopped dead before pumping wildly, painfully, taking my breath away.


-We nd 2 tlk

Check out the other flash fiction pieces inspired by “Pinch Me”!
Bronwyn Green | Kris Norris | Paige Prince


4 Replies to “June Song Writing Prompt – “Pinch Me””

  1. Fuck you Jarman. You bitch about me leaving you hanging and you freaking stop there. Hello black kettle…. Love this. I hope we see more of them. Really freaking hope.

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