Block
By Felicia
"I can't think of what to write"
"I can suggest better things to do then write," he said with a leer.
"You're such a cad, no I need to write something for this assignment, but I can't do it," she said not even giving him a glance.
He sighed and sprawled on the bed, "What if you leave it alone and then write more later?"
"I can't leave it for later because I have to hand it in later," she complained, "Arg! This is the 5th attempt I've given to writing this story."
He watched her get agitated; she was going to make her fingers bleed if she pounded harder on the typewriter keys.
"That's it! I can't take it anymore!" she got up and walked over to the other side of the room, lay down on the bed next to him, face down, grabbed a pillow and screamed into it.
He turned on his side to watch her back rise and fall with her heavy breathing and he heard a few muttered curse words as she raised her head to look at him.
Her hair had been pulled back in a headband and now it was all rumpled in the front, a few red strands hung in her eyes.
Most people would have pushed the hair out of her face to sooth and calm her, instead he just watched her with a face that was expressionless.
"I don't know what it is, I mean I can write, I love to write, everyone in the class could do it, so why can't I?" she had gotten up from the bed and now was walking around haphazardly moving her hands as she ranted. "People always are saying things like 'oh you should be a writer', 'did you ever thing about getting your work published later on?' things like that. People who are told they should be published shouldn't get writers block for a 500 word, third person story that goes with one of the pictures provided!"
She had gotten worked up in her tirade so she removed her formfitting green sweater and now was in a yellow tank top and jeans. Surprisingly the yellow didn't look bad on her, it brought out the reddish gold in her hair.
After realizing that he hadn't said anything in at least ten minutes, she asked "well don't you have anything to say?"
He rolled over on his back, hands clasped together and resting on his chest, it looked like he was being casual, but she knew he was actually putting together what he was about to say in his head so he wouldn't set her off again.
"I think that you should put this into perspective, this is only one assignment of many that you're going to get, so if you don't do amazing then it's ok because there are others you'll be better at, and I think if you try to force yourself to write you won't be able to."
He looked very smug after he said this; he knew he was right, she knew he was right. She hated how it seemed like he was always right about things like this after she would get worked up over a little thing.
"So what should I do then?"
"I think you should come over here and work on getting inspired," his grey eyes gleamed as they obviously scanned her slight frame up and down.
"Inspired? Is that what we're calling it now?" she answered back cheekily.
"Well I thought I was playing the part of the great future novelist's lover very well by using that word," he turned to get off the bed and walked over towards her.
When he said novelist, she had looked down almost as if she was ashamed because she had writer's block. So he stood in front of her, and raised her chin.
"Hey," he said softly, "come here," and he pulled her into his arms and rested his chin on her head after kissing it lightly, "we'll worry about the story tomorrow, yeah?"
"Yeah," she replied lifting her head to look at him, "Draco?"
"Yes Gin?"
"Let's work on some inspiration…"