|Cliché, or no? Definitely! A Oneshot series
Author: Pinkamoo PM
It’s an undeniable fact that I feel ill. I mean, wouldn’t you feel ill if your one true love is in love with your mum? And is marrying her? God, it’s enough to make you want to vomit.Rated: Fiction T - English - Romance/Humor - Chapters: 8 - Words: 32,986 - Reviews: 162 - Favs: 126 - Follows: 71 - Updated: 12-12-08 - Published: 02-19-08 - id: 2477433
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
Cliché, or no?Definitely
The Popular Chick and the Geek
"Are you really going to sit there?" I asked him, looking him up and down. Huh, not bad.
"Yeah," he said, not even looking at me because he was too into – well, whatever the hell it was he was doing. "I am, got a problem with that?"
I blinked, staring at him. I put down my romance fiction novel and crossed my arms, "What did you say to me?"
This time he turned and quirked an eyebrow at me, seemingly irritated, "You aren't half-deaf, are you?"
"No," I spluttered, glaring at him. What nerve, I wasn't deaf. Not even half. Who did he think he was, saying something like that to me? "W-why are you sitting here? Can't you sit over there?"
I waved a hand, gesturing to a far off computer in library that wasn't being used – and didn't have me next to it, coincidentally. I didn't have time for this.
"I always sit here, you though, I haven't even seen you in here before today." He told me, pushing his glasses up on his nose. They were what you could call 'emo' glasses, being thick rimmed and black. But they made him look so good.
I did not just think that.
"On the contrary," I said, not lying, "I come here all the time."
Usually after school, or before. I didn't want my friends to think I was a nerd, God, they were already bitching at me for my so called abnormal eating habits. Abnormal for them, maybe.
"Forgive me," he said, his eyes darting over me, "you don't look, or act, like the kind of girl who visits here often."
I snorted, "Yes, and there is also this saying, you know...don't judge a book by its cover."
Even though my friends and I did all the time. But who said I couldn't use it against him?
"Let's see," he said and instead of just glancing me over this time, he full on turned him and his chair around to give me a long, hard, stare. Putting a finger to his chin he looked me in the eye, even smirking a little, "your cover tells me...you are a closet nerd."
"What?" I found myself spluttering all over again, closet nerd? Closet nerd? Certainly not. "I am not. What about me makes you think I am?"
"Well," he said, squinting his eyes at me and keeping his finger in position, stroking his nonexistent beard, "your clothes, for one. They just scream it out to me."
I looked down at my clothes, what was wrong with my clothes? They were totally In, I had checked in Dolly.
"What? My clothes? What is wrong with them?" I spluttered once more, pressing them down for any wrinkles. My clothes were fine, perfect even. I liked my clothes.
"And that hair, God," he shook his head, with shame, "can I say wookie?"
I didn't even know what a 'wookie' was, but it sounded rather insulting. Had my hair gone totally Shirley Temple on me again? I mean, yeah, this morning I had made sure it looked straight. But it was rather windy today.
I tried to see my hair in the reflection of the black computer screen, but it was no good. I bumped it with an elbow and the screen went back to Countdown to Christmas. What, I was bored? And I happened to be getting a lot of majorly nice presents for Christmas. I pushed the screen button frantically, but he had already seen it.
His smirk grew, how could he be doing that to me? No one did that to me, not even the school's QB did that to me.
"My hair is fine," I hissed, though subconsciously touching it with my hands, "it isn't nerdy at all!"
How can hair even be nerdy? Unless it's like, Princess Leia hair or something.
"I know." He said, still smirking, "I was just playing with you. I could tell by the way you had three or four books in your shoulder bag, and one in your lap – My Lady Notorious – ironic much?"
I ignored him, "I really don't like you."
I plucked my book off my lap, stuck it in my shoulder bag and logged off the computer. I had had quite enough, thankyou very much. But still, he didn't shut up.
"It's ironic, because," he started, feeling the need to explain himself even though I clearly didn't want to hear it, "you are well known for all the wrong reasons, you know: notorious."
I pulled the shoulder bag back onto my left shoulder and turned to look at him, "Oh? And what would the right reasons be?"
When he didn't answer me straight way I started walking towards the door.
"Well, one of them being your absolute adorableness." he called out, and all these girls looked up from their books and giggled at me. I had frozen, but I tried to make it not so obvious – as if people called me adorable every day. Because they didn't, hot maybe, sexy even. Neveradorable.
I walked out of the library, pretending I hadn't heard a thing. I was never going back in there again, atleast, when he was in there.
I shoved the book back in its place, and looked around for another to read.
"This one's good," someone whispered in my ear and I jumped, spinning around. It was him. He reached over my shoulder and plucked a book off the shelf, and then held it out to me, "have you read any of Meg's? She's pretty good, for a chick writer – my sister seems to like her books quite a bit."
I shook my head no, and with a frown snatched it out of his hands to browse it. Jinx. I smiled at the writers style, it was quite unique – a good unique. I looked around at her other books and narrowed my eyes, "The Princess Diaries? I think I have watched those movies..."
"Books are different, however." He informed me, leaning back against the book case. I took the time to admire his long, lean figure as I pretended to be reading his book. He was pretty scrawny, really, but not like a stick. I pulled the book up higher to perve on his face, he had dimples when he smiled, he had this tanned skin...only lightly, and it looked natural. His hair was a middle-ish shade of brown and his eyes, oh his eyes – were looking right at me.
I coughed and held my book up higher, so I couldn't see him at all. But if you wanted to know, his eyes were this brilliant bright green colour.
Not that I thought they were brilliant at all, it's just you know, from a completely unbiased opinion – they were g-o-r-g-e-o-u-s!
I could still feel his gaze on me, and I peeked over my book, "What are you staring at, emo glasses?"
"Emo glasses?" he snorted, quirking his eyebrow up at me, "the name is Ryan."
Ryan, Ryan what a wonderful name.
From an unbiased opinion, of course. Cough.
"Whatever, Ryan," I said, keeping myself from smiling. It felt great saying Ryan, so I said it again, "Ryan, Ryan, Ryan, Ryan, Ryan."
Tongue slipped, I swear.
Oh no, he is smirking again.
"Isobel, Isobel, Isobel." He said, cheerfully. I narrowed my eyes at him, putting my hands on my hips. The nerve of him, mocking me.
"Ryan, Ryan, Ryan." I said with an edge, glowering at him.
"Isobel,Isobel." He said, also with an edge, but his was different then mine. His voice was going lower.
"Ryan – ugh, this is stupid. I am never coming to this stupid place again, God, your childishness is catching." I shoved the book in my bag, not thinking, and when Ryan called out to warn me I ignored him – until the library alarm bells went off.
He threw his head back and laughed at me.
"Miss Clemmings, will you please come this way?" The library lady said with narrowed eyes, I groaned.
I shoved a muffin in my mouth and downed it with a swig of orange juice, not even thinking about the indigestion I was probably going to get. Lola made a face at me, "That is disgusting, and uh, where do you think you're going?"
"Library." I said without thinking, looking back at her irritated. Her jaw dropped.
"Oh my God so that is where you have been going, ditching us." She said, standing up and wagging a finger in my face. "You better have a darned good reason, missy."
I downed the rest of the orange juice and gave her the bottle, "Here, keep it for that mush you put on your face."
She frowned at me as I walked off, muttering under her breath, "It's avocado facial cream, idiot."
I burst through the library doors and pointed a finger at him, "You –you stole my pink fluffy pen in geography, I know it was you."
"Me?" he said, innocently, tapping a pen to his head – my pen. "Why ever would I do such a thing?"
"Because I stole yours," I said, holding up his anime girl pen. Who had like, major big boobs by the way. I waved it in his face and smirked when he tried to snatch it back, "God, beach ball cleavage much? No matter how much you geeks claim to be different from the jocks..."
"That isn't mine." He said, snatching for it again.
"Oh really?" I said, tapping it on my hip, and then walking over to the bin. "Then you won't mind if I...?"
"You wouldn't dare." He said, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms. His mouth was a thin line, and all for a pen. He wasn't happy with me, I could tell.
"God," I rolled my eyes and dropped it on his lap, snatching mine back as I did so, "have your stupid pen back, then. Like I'd want it anyway."
Only to flush down the toilet.
It had been about a month since I had met Ryan, the idiot. And he still proved to be as geeky as ever, either on the computer, programming his website – or reading all these weird, non fiction books. One of them was about ants, but really, how much was there to know?
He could be really annoying sometimes – but this was the first time he ever actually made me annoyed annoyed. But why? Was it because of the pen? It wasn't any of my business whether he was a perve or not. He apparently noticed my irritation, because he came and slid down next to me while I pretended to read.
"Hey, it's my friend's pen, OK?" he told me, stroking a tendril I had obviously missed that morning, "I just don't think he'd appreciate you putting it in the bin."
"Whatever." I said, too distracted by his hair stroking to say anything else. I pretended to be into my book, but I wasn't reading a word. It was weird; I didn't usually like anyone touching my hair – apart from myself, and my stylist of course.
His knee just bumped mine.
"Your hair would look nice, curly," he informed me, pulling down on the curl and letting it spring back up again, "why do you always straighten it?"
"Because I like it that way." I said, snappily. It must have been a little too snappy because he moved his hand and knee away from me. I felt oddly disappointed.
"Sorry." He muttered, and went to stand up, but I tugged on his arm. He looked down at me, and I brought a book out of my bag, it looked educational enough. I had found it on my older sisters book shelf – it was a present she had received from one of her friends for her 19th. "Hmm?"
"I don't know what it's about, or anything like that. But it looked educating and boring, just how you like them." I said, crossing my legs on the chair and observing him. He stared at the book, and then the sour look crept off his face. He was grinning. "Take it, you might learn something."
"Um," he said, taking it out of my hands and then looking at it again, "Did you, you know, even read any of this?"
"No." I said, befuddled. What was he talking about? What was wrong with the book? "If you don't like it I'll just –"
He opened the book, and held it up to me. My jaw dropped.
I had just given him a book, a book called The Kama Sutra. A book that, was indeed, on sexual positions.
Oh. My. God.
"I – I'm taking this back." I said, mortified and red, "and you are, never, ever going to mention this again – OK?"
He pulled the book out of my reach and smirked at me, "Oh, but Isobel, I might learn something."
OH MY GOD!
I snatched for the book, and missed, again, "Give it back!"
"What?" He said, innocently. He leaned closer to me and whispered, "Do you want to read it then, Isobel?"
"GIVE IT BACK!" I screeched, pummelling my fists on his chest, "I'm warning you!!"
"What are you going to do – are you going to –" he flicked a page in the book, "Do It Turkish Style?"
"No," I said, so blinded with mortification and rage that I didn't even think about what I was about to do, "but I'll do this."
Before you could say macking – that is what I was doing. With Ryan.
I had literally pounced on him so that I was now straddling him, and then I pressed my lips against his. Was he surprised? Yeeeessss.
Ryan froze, and for a second I thought he was just going to go get off, biiaatch and knock me onto the library floor. Really, because he was that violent – but then he started kissing me back. It. Was. Making. Me. Go.Craazzzyy!
I do not know why I spent all that time kissing all those popular good looking jerks – God, if I knew what I had been missing. Kissing geeks – kissing Ryan was AMAZING! I don't know why I had never thought about doing it before. All my life, every moment, every God damn awful kiss (well, compared to this one) had been leading up to this.
Ryan pulled away and I went "Mnnn!" in protest, I looked up at him. Oh no. He was going to say it was a mistake – a mistake! How could anything that felt like that be a mistake? Oh no. Oh, God.
He went to open his mouth, but I couldn't let him. I wouldn't let him. I didn't want to hear those words.
"Don't say it was a mistake!" I said, looking up at him earnestly. My lip had started to tremble.
"What are you –" he said a really bad word "–insane??" he looked down at me, incredulously. Like I'd told him the grass grew pink and the sky was rainbow and that Anna Nicole Smith didn't marry that old guy for his money. (God Rest Her Soul)
"No." I sniffled; he did think it was a mistake. He did.
He leaned down and kissed me, sweetly and for a long time. He then looked at me again, smiling softly, "this is what I've wanted to be doing with you all month, Isobel. I just wanted to know, that was French style, right? If you care to remind me..."
Ryan grinned at me, goofily, and I grinned right back at him. Like we were two five year olds that had just scored a free bag of fairy floss (cotton candy, candy floss, take your pick).
And then we were kissing, all over again.
"OH MY GOD, SO THAT IS WHAT YOU HAVE BEEN DOING ALL THIS TIME?? What's this...The Kama – The Kama Sutra? OH MY GOD!!"
♥ ♣ ♥ ♣ ♥ ♣
The first in my many cliché series – I am gonna write a story for every cliché I think of! Or well, until I get sick of it. Which I won't, because who gets sick of writing? God.
(And if you mention my recent writers block, I'll kill you. ♥ ♥ )