Conversation Story Novels & Stories

I click the message bubble and the conversation opens. It reads: YOU’RE GETTING TOO CLOSE TO STERLING. STAY AWAY FROM HIM! HE’S DANGEROUS!!

He's not worth it. "How are we gonna answer their questions when we don't know anything about each other? We need to come up with a romantic story as well," I told him in frustration. Why is it so hard to carry on a conversation with him? He looked deep in thought as though he was giving some time to my words. But then he nonchalantly said. "Then made one?" "Okay…can you give any suggestions?" I nodded. "Like how we met and fell for each other. We need to ensure that everyone believes our story."

he guessed carefully. Lucas looked impressed. “Close.” Alex smiled proudly. “See?” Lucas shook his head with amusement before relaxing more into the conversation. And for the next several minutes, they talked surprisingly easily. The discussion expanded to gardening, food, the estates, childhood stories, and even terrible cooking disasters. Alex purposely avoided telling lots of his life stories and told him fabricated ones. At one point, Lucas laughed so hard at one of Alex’s made-up gardening experiences that he nearly spilled his tea.

Chloe answered honestly every time, including the times when the honest answer was: I don't always know, I just keep adjusting. The calls had lengthened over time, moving from practical questions into conversations that had no particular purpose except the pleasure of talking to someone who knew the whole story, who required no context and no careful editing. They talked about their children and their work and their marriages and the strange experience of being in their thirties and finding that life had become, against considerable odds, genuinely good. They talked about their mother occasionally, briefly, in the same careful way you handle something fragile whose value you are not entirely

“You don’t look too bad yourself.” He grinned. “I try.” The conversation flowed naturally from there. We talked about work, childhood memories, and random things that made us laugh. It was easy in a way I hadn’t expected, and for the first time in a while, I felt like I could just… breathe. At one point, he was in the middle of telling a story about his failed attempt at cooking during college, complete with exaggerated hand gestures, when I found myself laughing—genuinely laughing. “I swear, I almost burned the entire apartment down,” he said, shaking his head.

END. Couldn't think of a perfect way to end this, anyway __ all in all, we have come to the end of our story , if you haven't said anything since we started , come on, this is your chance, please say something, anything, whatever , just anything you think about it... thanks for reading, don't forget to vote and thanks in advance for your feedback❤

Paul laughed. More laughter followed. We set our plates aside and gathered around the fire. It was fully dark now. “Next question,” Paul said. “First-time story.” Jenny definitely wasn’t going to answer that one, so I shrugged, and Brian and I spoke up almost in sync. “Emily,” we said, laughing, and gave a quick recap for those who didn’t know the story. “In a tent, on a summer trip,” Diane said, and shared her story. “My parents’ bedroom—while they were throwing a party downstairs,” Paul said, and told his tale.

“I asked in passing. You answered like it was a deposition.” I caught myself smiling, an actual smile, not the careful, calibrated version I gave to board members and reporters. “Apologies. Old habit.” “Don’t apologize. I asked for tea and got a corporate history lesson. That’s better entertainment than anything on television lately.” It had become a pattern over the past two weeks, conversations that started about one thing and ended up somewhere else entirely, somewhere I hadn’t planned to go and didn’t entirely mind ending up. I told myself it was simply proximity. Two people living in the same house eventually talked more than strangers did. That explained the breakfasts that ran longer

It flowed with the same surprising ease it had through text messages. Books. Travel. Embarrassing childhood stories. Favourite films. The conversation drifted effortlessly from one subject to another without either of them needing to force it. At one point Amelia laughed so hard at one of Jake's stories about accidentally presenting architectural drawings upside down during an important meeting that coffee almost came out of her nose. "I'm so sorry," she spluttered. Jake grinned. "There you go again." "What?" "Apologising." She blinked. "I did, didn't I?"

I asked, trying to build up a conversation with him so that he will think that I have some interest in him. He didn't said anything but just chuckled dryly as if he wanted to say something but didn't found suitable words for them. " You know, I can be a patient listener." I added not knowing what else to say. " Do you want to know my sappy story?" He chuckled again. Eh? Sappy story? He couldn't have any past story after all he's the one to end the life stories of god knows how many people. " Yes." I mumbled.