Poor Igor...

I've finally started working on part 4 of "To friendship". And, of course, my friends decided we HAD TO go out every fucking evening last week AND we absolutely needed to see each other in the weekend too. All right, last week was lovely, I should really start going out every night, it's great for my mood. Not so much for my writing, though. Gah. But I AM writing, that's the important thing.

And because I love my LJ friends, here's a sneak preview.

A week had passed and Igor was starting to lose hope. He had tried everything he could think of: turning casual touches into lingering caresses, paying random compliments, casting glances that usually made girls blush and look down with an embarrassed smile. One evening he had even walked into the kitchen wearing only a pair of faded old jeans and leaned against the table next to Richard, trying to look sexy and tempting, but his friend had only raised an eyebrow and told him to put on some clothes if he didn’t want to catch pneumonia.

Now he was sitting on his sofa bed, reading some comics and trying not to pout too much.

Poor Igor, I'm so mean to him...