Hey, I have a dialogue question. Kind of. I have a part in my chapter where the MC is exchanging notes with a new guy in class. I got tired describing all of the ways they could physically pass it to each other and I began to write it as if it were dialogue. Does it work?
Suddenly, something pegged my calf and I flinched. I looked down to see a note lying near my foot and glanced around until I caught Surfer Boy looking at me. He motioned for me to pick it up, but I stared back with my mouth open. He huffed and let out a little laugh before turning to face the front of the room.
I checked to make sure no one was looking before bending down to snatch it off of the floor. Mr. Powell was back at the front, writing formatting notes on the board. I slowly unfolded the paper under my desk, wincing at each crumpling noise.
“I appreciate the offer, but I don’t need a shadow. Maybe another time?” He signed it Tate Fox.
I didn’t offer anything, I thought defensively and looked at him. He was pressing his lips together as if holding back a smile. I didn’t want him assuming that I was itching to take him around, so I smoothed out his note on my desk.
I don’t have to write back, I rationalized as I gripped my pen. But at the same time, my heart was racing and my mood had suddenly improved.
“Just for the record, I didn’t ask for you to follow me. And as far as another time, I’m not interested. Thanks anyway, Emily Clover.”
That’s fine, abrupt and to the point. Afterall, I didn’t have time to play footsies with some new guy that just walked in the door. With Mr. Powell’s back turned, I handed the note to the girl next to me and she curled her lip as she grabbed and it and passed it to Tate. I brought my pen back to my mouth and occasionally jotted down sentences from the board.
“Mike is going to kill him,” the girl whispered as she slapped another note on my desk. I widened my eyes at her as if I was confused and dragged the note onto my lap. I fought the urge to look at him as I unfolded it.
“Are you sure? I am partial to blondes.” I unintentionally reached up to twirl a strand of my yellow hair between my fingers. I heard a snort and swung quickly to face him. He turned away before I could catch his eyes, but he kept his palm over his lips as if suppressing a laugh.
Who is this guy? I wondered. I could actually feel beads of sweat pooling on my forehead and I sat back against my seat and glanced out of the window. I’d never dated anyone other Mike, and honestly had never wanted to either. We’d been together since I was 14 and in the last 3 years, no one else had ever approached me.
I was nauseous as I tried to think of the best response to give Tate Fox. After a few minutes, inspiration struck and I flipped the paper over onto the back.
“That’s nice, but I’m not your type.”
Is this flirting? I thought and sent it.
Before I had a chance to mull over my question, another paper hit my shoulder and fell onto my desk. I heard a couple of quiet giggles and I knew that some of the other students had noticed. I exhaled at this development and checked Mr. Powell’s location. He was reading directly from the textbook at his podium and I chewed on my lip as I read.
“And what do you know of my type, Emily Clover?” I smiled, despite my nervousness and read it over again.
This is kind of fun.
“I’m sure I might know a couple of girls that I could set you up with. Let’s see, what do you like? Oh I know, brainless, right?”
“You’re a sassy little thing. What if I said that I liked girls that play hard to get? Ring a bell?”
“Not really. You see, I’m not playing hard to get. I’m just not playing at all.”
“Clever. So you’re saying that you like me?”
“No, Tate. I do not like you. I have a boyfriend. A big football player boyfriend that’s in college. Had enough?”
“Away at college?”
“Yeah.”
“Well then, Emily, you are fair game.”
The bell rang as I looked down at his last reply. I hadn’t realized how quickly the time past. I shot a glance over to Tate’s desk, but he was gone. Several girls eyed me on their way to the door, but I just shrugged in return. Mr. Powell called me from the front.
“Mr. Fox ran out of here quickly, so it looks like you’re off the hook.”
“Thanks.”
“Can you try to get to class on time tomorrow?”
“I’ll be here,” I said and stood
Suddenly, something pegged my calf and I flinched. I looked down to see a note lying near my foot and glanced around until I caught Surfer Boy looking at me. He motioned for me to pick it up, but I stared back with my mouth open. He huffed and let out a little laugh before turning to face the front of the room.
I checked to make sure no one was looking before bending down to snatch it off of the floor. Mr. Powell was back at the front, writing formatting notes on the board. I slowly unfolded the paper under my desk, wincing at each crumpling noise.
“I appreciate the offer, but I don’t need a shadow. Maybe another time?” He signed it Tate Fox.
I didn’t offer anything, I thought defensively and looked at him. He was pressing his lips together as if holding back a smile. I didn’t want him assuming that I was itching to take him around, so I smoothed out his note on my desk.
I don’t have to write back, I rationalized as I gripped my pen. But at the same time, my heart was racing and my mood had suddenly improved.
“Just for the record, I didn’t ask for you to follow me. And as far as another time, I’m not interested. Thanks anyway, Emily Clover.”
That’s fine, abrupt and to the point. Afterall, I didn’t have time to play footsies with some new guy that just walked in the door. With Mr. Powell’s back turned, I handed the note to the girl next to me and she curled her lip as she grabbed and it and passed it to Tate. I brought my pen back to my mouth and occasionally jotted down sentences from the board.
“Mike is going to kill him,” the girl whispered as she slapped another note on my desk. I widened my eyes at her as if I was confused and dragged the note onto my lap. I fought the urge to look at him as I unfolded it.
“Are you sure? I am partial to blondes.” I unintentionally reached up to twirl a strand of my yellow hair between my fingers. I heard a snort and swung quickly to face him. He turned away before I could catch his eyes, but he kept his palm over his lips as if suppressing a laugh.
Who is this guy? I wondered. I could actually feel beads of sweat pooling on my forehead and I sat back against my seat and glanced out of the window. I’d never dated anyone other Mike, and honestly had never wanted to either. We’d been together since I was 14 and in the last 3 years, no one else had ever approached me.
I was nauseous as I tried to think of the best response to give Tate Fox. After a few minutes, inspiration struck and I flipped the paper over onto the back.
“That’s nice, but I’m not your type.”
Is this flirting? I thought and sent it.
Before I had a chance to mull over my question, another paper hit my shoulder and fell onto my desk. I heard a couple of quiet giggles and I knew that some of the other students had noticed. I exhaled at this development and checked Mr. Powell’s location. He was reading directly from the textbook at his podium and I chewed on my lip as I read.
“And what do you know of my type, Emily Clover?” I smiled, despite my nervousness and read it over again.
This is kind of fun.
“I’m sure I might know a couple of girls that I could set you up with. Let’s see, what do you like? Oh I know, brainless, right?”
“You’re a sassy little thing. What if I said that I liked girls that play hard to get? Ring a bell?”
“Not really. You see, I’m not playing hard to get. I’m just not playing at all.”
“Clever. So you’re saying that you like me?”
“No, Tate. I do not like you. I have a boyfriend. A big football player boyfriend that’s in college. Had enough?”
“Away at college?”
“Yeah.”
“Well then, Emily, you are fair game.”
The bell rang as I looked down at his last reply. I hadn’t realized how quickly the time past. I shot a glance over to Tate’s desk, but he was gone. Several girls eyed me on their way to the door, but I just shrugged in return. Mr. Powell called me from the front.
“Mr. Fox ran out of here quickly, so it looks like you’re off the hook.”
“Thanks.”
“Can you try to get to class on time tomorrow?”
“I’ll be here,” I said and stood
