The Pink Cupcake

Plan B

            Wow, talk about sexy potty mouth. Looks like this is what happens when a jock marries a nerd: a Greek God with no fashion sense.

            “I’m not moving,” I said simply before turning around and back to my book.

            “Because you’re really in the library to read a book on neurological surgery,” was his sarcastic reply. “Honestly, Barbie, stop pretending and just leave.

            What the hell was neurological surgery? Was that what I was trying to read?

            It didn’t sound very fun.

            “Did you just call me Barbie?” I asked, extremely insulted.

            “Well, that’s what you are. Right?”

            “No! Not right! My boobs are not that big!” Okay, I admit that wasn’t my smartest comeback.

            “You just convinced me of the Barbie image,” the guy said. “You don’t belong here, girly, so piss off before you actually learn something.”

             Extremely insulted, I decided to simply ignore him and return to my work. Because I totally knew what I was reading about, with all the diagrams and stuff…

            Oh my God! EWW! Is that a human brain?

            I’d just been scarred for life.

            “Hey!” he snapped from behind me, but I continued to ignore him. “HEY! HEY GIRLY! HEY!”

            “SHUT THE HELL UP, I’M TRYING TO READ ABOUT CEREBRO!”

            He paused in his shouting and insults to burst out laughing. Like, really laughing. I’m talking doubled over, red-faced laughter that causes tears to pour out of your eyes.

            The nerd was pushing over the boundaries of my restraint, and he was going to get slapped if he didn’t stop in three seconds.

            “You…” he continued to chortle. “You mean the cerebellum?”

            “Isn’t that what I said?”

            Another loud laugh escaped him. “No, you said cerebro. As in X-Men.”

            “Yeah, because I’ve totally watched X-Men. Freaking nerds.” I rolled my eyes. “Go away, you’re not hot anymore. You’re just irritating.”

            “You think I’m hot?” His face lit up in a smile.

            “Die in a hole, dickhead.”

            “I must say that I’m flattered.” He sat down next to me. “No one of your class has told me I’m good-looking.”

            “My class?”

            “The ex-cheerleader completely confused with what to do with life class.” Is that another insult or just flattery? I was leaning towards a definite insult.

            “You obviously think highly of me.”

            “Oh, very highly.” The sarcasm wasn’t missed in his voice.

            “Why are you still here? Go away,” I ordered, fed up.

            “No. This is my spot.” He set a massive burgundy book down on the table tenderly, like it was his baby. “I always study here.”