November Song Writing Prompt – “Iowa”


 This month’s song is “Iowa” by Dar Williams. You can have a listen here:

For this prompt, I again went into the world of my serial.

For those interested, here are links for the other flash fiction peices that are kinda connected/set in that world:

The Lies Begin
Lying in Wait
Lying to Myself
The Lies We Tell

And the link to the chapters of the serial: Your Lies

This story isn’t about the hero or heroine of the serial but a follow up – from another POV – to a flash fiction peice I did in that world.


The lyrics:
How I long to fall just a little bit
To dance out of the lines and stray from the light
But I fear that to fall in love with you
Is to fall from a great and gruesome height
prompted this month’s song fic… “Falling”

This flash fiction has explicit descriptions. Not a ton but more so than any of the others have. You’ve been warned. 🙂

I sat on the top of the picnic table, doing everything I could not to look over at the group of guys laughing and throwing a football around.

“Some senior trip, eh?” Sofie nudged my side then dropped her head on my shoulder.

“Wasn’t too bad until the bus crapped out,” I said quietly.

“Even being stuck rooming with him the whole time?”

I fought not to cringe. “He’s not a bad person, Sof.” And did cringe, then, at the automatic defense.

“He’s a jerk,” she muttered as she straightened. “Totally strings you along, then suddenly acts like you don’t exist? Stands by and does nothing while his stupid friends treat you and everyone else like shit? The old saying—you know person by looking at their friends or whatever? So true.”

“He’s not—” I snapped my mouth shut and took a deep breath.

“I know what you’re going to say,” she said quickly.

I snorted. She should know what I was going to say because this wasn’t the first time we’d had this conversation.

“What he and his family went through…” She shook her head. “When his sister died, I could excuse a whole lot of his shit toward you, toward everyone. But it’s been a year, and no amount of grief excuses—”

“Stop. Just…stop. It doesn’t matter. He’s made it clear he doesn’t want anything to do with me, and I’m done dwelling on it. Have been for a long time.”

“Would be easier to believe that if you didn’t have sad, crumbling hearts in your eyes whenever you look at him.”

I was saved from having to answer when one of the chaperones approached us. From the corner of my eye I saw another walk up to the group on the grass, calling out for them to gather around.

“They’re sending a new bus,” the woman said cheerfully. “But as it’s so late, it won’t be here until morning. We’ll be staying here.” She gestured at the motel behind her. “We’ll have room assignments soon, same roommate pairs.”

My gaze flicked over before I could stop myself and met his intense stare. It didn’t last long—just enough to have my stomach jumping—before he turned away and went back to playing with his friends.

“It’ll be okay,” Sofie murmured, snaking an arm around my waist and leaning into me. “It’s just one more night, right?”

Yeah, just one more night… No big deal.

* * * *

I didn’t look up when the door to the room opened then banged shut. I flicked my finger along the screen of my phone, watching gems explode, even as my body tensed at his presence. He cleared his throat.

“Um, we’re supposed to meet at the diner in half an hour for dinner.”

My jaw ached as I clenched it but kept playing the game, telling myself his voice had no effect on me. That he had no effect on me, anymore.

“Are you just going to ignore me?”

A shiver skated up my spine at the roughly snapped question. Yeah, I was never really any good at lying to myself. Not for the first time, I wished I could go back in time and never met him. Never felt anything for him, only to have those feelings stomped on, again and again. Well, at least after graduation, I wouldn’t have to see him every day. That was something.

I tossed the phone on the mattress beside me and stood, walking toward the bathroom without looking at him. He stepped forward and grabbed my upper arm. I jerked out of his grasp and shoved against his shoulder.

“Don’t touch me.”

His eyes widened, and he gaped at me. After a moment, he shook his head. “What is your problem?”

My problem? Are you fucking kidding me?” I muttered and started to turn—only to be stopped by his hand on my arm again. I froze. “I said don’t touch me.”

“Seriously, what—”

I spun around and, slamming my hands against his chest, backed him up against the wall. “You don’t get to do this. Change things again. Leave me alone. Don’t talk to me. Don’t touch me. You’ve been doing really, really well with that until now.”

His heart pounded beneath my palms, and he studied me intently, brow furrowed. I didn’t want to see the pain and uncertainty in his eyes, the way his bottom lip trembled just a bit before he pressed his mouth closed. While I didn’t paint him as the villain as Sofie did—she claimed it was her right as my best friend—I couldn’t deny the anger I felt for him, simmering under the hurt. And I had to hold on to that anger and remember how fucking awful the last year had been, because I couldn’t let myself fall for him again. It would destroy me, that long and ultimately gruesome fall. I don’t know that I could survive that.

“Go back to your asshole friends and pretending I don’t exist,” I practically begged.

“I don’t pretend you don’t exist,” he argued.

“That’s right.” I pressed closer, got right in his face. “You look right at me while they shove me around, call me a fag and threaten worse.”

“I hate that they—”

“Shut up,” I snapped. “You don’t get to hate it. You don’t get to—”

His hand on the back of my neck and his lips against mine cut off my words, my thoughts, my sanity. His fingers slid into my hair, nails scrapping my scalp, and I groaned. Wrenching away, breath quick, I frowned at him.

“What are you doing?”

“What I want to do every fucking day,” he bit out, “but can’t.”

He used his hold on me to reverse our positions. Back to the wall, I held his gaze, waiting—waiting for him to explain, to make sense of all of this, of the last year.

“I hate it,” he whispered. “Hate seeing you, wanting you and knowing I can’t have you.”

“Why? Why can’t you? What changed?” Shit, how could I ask that? Even if I didn’t understand it, I knew what changed.


He took my mouth again and pressed close. The drag of his cock against mine, even with the layers, had me canting my hips forward, desperate for more. I couldn’t stop, even though everything in my head was screaming at me to push him away, save myself the pain. But every slick glide of his lips and tongue, every touch, every movement of our bodies muzzled those thoughts, drove them out until there was only him.

He murmured my name against my lips, breath hitching as we ground against each other frantically. I squeezed my eyes shut and held on tightly to his shoulders. His hands slide down to cup my ass as his movements quickened. My head thudded against the wall, and immediately, he dropped his head to mouth at my throat.

It didn’t last long—how could it? I’d wanted this for so long, and even if this was just complicating things impossibly, my body didn’t give a shit. A low groan rumbling in his chest, he bit down just above my collarbone as his body stiffened. I could feel his cock pulsing against mine, and that was all it took to push me over.

We didn’t move right away, just stay wrapped around each other against the wall—breathing heaving with come in our pants.

Then, he pressed a kiss against my neck and whispered, lips tickling, “I’m sorry.”

I kept my eyes closed a moment longer, determinedly ignoring the stinging behind the lids. Sliding my palms down to his chest, I pushed firmly until he stepped back. His eyes were red-rimmed and glistening. He wet his swollen lips and opened his mouth to speak. I didn’t give him a chance.

“Nothing’s changed, has it?” I demanded. “We’re going to walk out that door and it’ll be like this never even happened. We just, what? Forget?”

“I’m sorry,” he said again. “I wish—”

“Don’t.” I held my hand up then sidestepped to get away from him. God, I had to get away from him.

“Please.” He reached for me but I moved quickly enough to avoid it. “Nothing’s changed—it can’t—but…but I won’t forget this.”

“Well, I’m going to do everything I can to try to. Fuck you for jerking me around, again. Fuck me for letting you.”

“I’m sor—”

“Stop saying you’re sorry!” I yelled, stepping back into the bathroom. Swallowing the lump in my throat, I lowered my voice and added, “Just be gone when I come out. And I’ll…I’ll figure out somewhere else to sleep.”

“You don’t need to do that,” he protested. “I don’t have a problem being here with you.”

“I do.” I slammed the door, shutting out the way he jerked back as if struck and the hurt expression on his face.

Leaning my forehead against the wood separating us, I took several deep breaths, trying to still the quivers wracking my body. Nothing had changed, I told myself. This meant nothing. I’d forget about it and keep on going as I had been. And escape it all when I left in the fall. And this would mean nothing.

Damn, I really wished I was better at lying to myself.


Bronwyn Green | Kayleigh Jones


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