In my ongoing quest of having things to say, here is a thing. Do I need more explanation? Well, the character can probably speak for himself. He has lovely things to say. Because he’s cocky as hell. This is from a story I’m currently working on.
Zach, the man, the myth, the legend enjoyed another wonderful night. Believe me, recounting tales of my charms and exploits might be in my top five favorite hobbies, but another matter demanded attention the next morning. Or at least, my father followed me into the kitchen when I woke up sometime closer to afternoon than morning.
Wait. This cannot be stressed enough. Deep down, cross my heart, gun to my head, I truly believed I could be best friends with Beyoncé. If our paths ever crossed, she would think my style game was on point, and not only would we get along, she would be the one eager to make my acquaintance. She would think, ‘damn, I need him in my life. I might learn something.’
That was the level I generally operated at. Zach Ahmad: Beyoncé’s equal.
Thoughts like these gave me comfort when interacting with my father and during other moments of adversity when I more closely resembled, unfortunately, an utterly basic bitch.