How to Be Cliche (A Novel)

(14) Fruit Loops

Read that in the Nemesis for Dummies handbook I picked up at the Orange Gate County public library.

"You two make quite the couple. Tell me, what is sex to you, Tyler?" Sin wondered, crossing his arms over his wide chest and stretching the fabric of his light blue dress shirt even further. "Surely, we're all mature enough to have this conversation. This is a creative writing class. An AP writing class, might I add. Our writing is not limited to everything rated G."

"I...I...uh." Tyler turned red again.

"Ask his mom!" a guy shouted in the back, earning more laughter from the class.

"If someone doesn't answer this question for me, Tyler will have to recite three whole pages of my choice from Fifty Shades of Grey tomorrow in front of the whole class."

"What?" Tyler squeaked. "Now nobody will answer the question."

"Sweating. Moaning. Kissing. Humping. Banging." Sin Trindad picked up his pointer and whacked the desk of the kid in the front row who just refused to stay awake in class, then leaned close to the poor guys face and bellowed, "The horizontal tango! Love making! Steam! Torture! Pleasure! Sex! Har, har, har!"

He pushed back, running a hand in an aggravated way through his shaggy brown hair.

"There, I said it all. Now let's all be mature here because guess what? Sex is everything in literature. Sex is dominance, lure, mischief, political, and sometimes even random -- all compacted into one. So lets hear it, Tyler and class. Three pages of reading for all of you if this question is not answered."

Poor Tyler was an absolute mess. "Uh...uh...uh...."

"Sometimes I really think you're an Encyclopedia, Tyler. Can someone else tell me, explain to me--or hell, even show me what sex is before time runs out? Go on, let's see it. Or do you want Tyler to suffer by himself? How about ten pages of Fifty Shades of Grey and he has to act it out? That's sort of cruel, I must say." Sin slowly ran a hand down the center of his chest, a mannerism of his that had slowly been deep frying my ovaries like a McDonalds commercial since day one at Mortimer High School.

"I volunteer as tribute!!"Ronny's phone speakers played from The Hunger Games. Now the entire class was in hysterics. I absolutely loved Ronny. I especially loved him for finding me clothes to wear when we went to the mall that I wasn't ashamed of. Clothes that weren't exactly for the "popular" girls or any other particular group of girls. Clothes that represented me. Badass clothes.

Ronny quickly pocketed his phone before Trinidad's daggering eyes saw who it was. If there was anything about Trinidad that was predictable, it was that if he saw anyone using their phone's in class he would smash it on his desk with his paw-like fist like the freaking Hulk and call the students' parents in front of the entire class, telling them that whoever had been playing with the phone had "accidently" thrown their phone against the wall while reciting Shakespeare.

You think I'm joking...

"How about..." Sin began, looking around the classroom and raising a dark eyebrow.

Oh no, it was another one of those dreadful moments where the teacher called on someone who wasn't raising their hand even though nobody wanted to answer the question.

Everyone looked at one another. It was survival of the fittest, now.

"You won't like it if I call on you and you're hand isn't up," Sin said to the class. Was there a hint of sensuality in his voice, or was it just me?

Good lord, just come to school with a hose and douse him with water already so I can see those delicious buns of him all nice and outlined in those pantalones, ok? Give a conscious a break.