Creative Writing: All of the short stories I wrote in my senior year of college

Prompt 10: 10-page tension story

"Prompt:
Write a short (or long) story signifying tension. Make us feel like we're there. Can we cut the tension with a knife?"

First Date

I don't know what to do, how to continue. It was nice, but I can't face him again. I liked him, but he didn't like me back. Is this the meaning of life? To get rejected, and you're supposed to just forget it? I won't forget it. Never. But you can forget me.

~ Akari

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"Akari, hurry up! You said you were going to go to the record store with me!" Chiya, the oldest sister of the pair, whined as she banged on her younger sister's door. "It closes at six and it's already 3:30."

"One minute! I'm almost done!" Akari smiled at her reflection in the mirror, applying a sticky, pink lipgloss over her rather thin lips. If she couldn't make them bigger, she could at least make them shine. "I look beautiful." She whispered, sighing happily. "I just hope Mr. Iwasaki thinks so." Mr. Iwasaki was Akari's talent manager. Back in 1984, which was close to a year ago, Akari had landed a spot on a famous talent television show and won, instantly whisking her off to a new life of fame, fortune, and fun. Finally, after countless applications and auditions, she was living her dream of being a star... but something about it just didn't seem right. Sure, she was visiting her family now, but, on her own, she lived in a small apartment in the middle of Tokyo, within walking distance of the studio she recorded all of her music at. On top of that, she didn't have many friends. Mr. Iwasaki always told her that her fans were her friends, but Akari didn't buy that. Sometimes she wondered what she had that made her stand out from the other teen pop idols that released records alongside her. Was there a difference? Or was she just another carbon copy puppet made to sing and dance only to rake in uncountable bags of yen for Mr. Iwasaki and only listen to him and his commands?

You didn't sing that line right. Do it again. Come on, you can do better. How on Earth did you win that stupid talent show if you can't even sing that one note right? Your voice keeps breaking. No, as in cracking. You can't have a break. You need to finish this song. What are you crying for? You can't be famous if you cry about every little thing. Pull yourself together.

She was used to his banter by now, and it had gotten to the point where whenever she went into the studio and his familiar comments rang in her ears, she didn't even listen. She chose not to. Those thoughts regularly jingled around her skull, but part of her still found him endearing. His face was chiseled like a stone statue and always clean shaven, he had the most beautiful brown eyes, and, like her, his smooth black hair glistened in the sun when it caught the perfect ray. Tonight, Mr. Iwasaki had asked for Akari to meet him for dinner, to discuss what she planned to do for her upcoming album. Hopefully, tonight would be filled with joy, happiness, and maybe a flirtatious comment or two over some romantic beverages. It was something in his eyes, his laugh, his smile... Akari loved Mr. Iwasaki. The only problem was that she was seventeen, and he was well into his forties with two children and an ex wife. But that didn't matter. To Akari, age was just a number. He was her favorite person... she just had to tell him. But what would happen if she told him, and he rejected her? She'd have to see him every day at the studio and no work would get done. But, if she told him and he accepted her, she'd still have to see him every day at the studio... and no work would get done. What an ordeal... she didn't know what to do. Maybe tonight, he'd come along and say he liked her! Pfft, wishful thinking.

After lining her lips over and over due to racing thoughts, she gave a quick fluff to her otherwise flat hair and grabbed her purse, meeting Chiya in the hallway. "What took you so long?" The older sister pushed her round, bottom-of-a-milk-bottle-esque glasses up the bridge of her nose, "The record store is about to close, dummy." That wasn't right at all, but Chiya didn't like to go places alone, so she hounded her sister until she agreed to accompany her.