Rockin' Romeo and Jammin' Juliet

Horny At 5 A.M.

Sophie thought long and hard about that question, but nothing she'd said to Jackson even had a hint of flirtatiousness. Do I even know how to flirt?

Lys' disappointment cut through her thoughts. "You didn't flirt with him, did you?"

She grimaced. "I don't even think I know how to flirt."

"You have got to be kidding me."

She thought about it a moment. "I don't think I am."

"I'm teaching you to flirt at lunch tomorrow."

"Okay?"

"Please tell me he flirted with you, at least."

"Uhhh..." Sophie felt lost for a minute. "What counts as flirting?"

"Just tell me what kinds of things he said."

"Lots of weird things," she admitted. "Like, he invited me to his 'sex dungeon'."

"WHAT?!" Lys practically screamed into the phone. "And you mean to say you declined his invitation?!"

"Calm down! It wasn't actually a sex dungeon!"

"So you mean to say he doesn't actually have a sex dungeon?" Lys sounded disappointed.

"No, it was just his basement where his band practices." She flopped back onto her bed, staring at her ceiling.

"Oh. Well, what else did he say? Anything saucy?"

"Er, no, not 'saucy,' per se," Sophie said. "We literally just listened to music for two hours. And ate some celery sticks."

"Is celery sticks a euphemism?"

"No! They were just snacks Jackson's mom made us." Sophie paused. "What would 'celery sticks' be a euphemism for?"

"Well, you know, his, um..."

Sophie squeezed her eyes shut. "Augh, no, stop! There was nothing like that, Lys!"

"Okay, okay. Chill. But seriously, I can't believe you went to Jackson's house and didn't even, like, seductively touch his arm or something. Girl, you are missing so many opportunities here!"

"I wouldn't know how to do anything like that, though," Sophie weakly protested.

"This is why you have me! God sent me down from heaven in a beam of light and delivered me unto you to teach you how to get it on with guys. He said, 'Alyssa, this is your destiny. You must bequeath your knowledge to your BFF, Sophie. It is gospel; 'twas written in the ancient stone tablet of Bethlehem in the year 1790 BC, prepared for thousands of years later, when a prophet would be sent to bring forth the mighty wisdom of those before her. 'Alas!' The archangel Tom Cruise shouted as he bowed before this glorious prophet-"

"It's really obvious you only go to church once a year," Sophie interrupted, trying not to laugh at her friend's butchered views of Christianity.

"And don't you forget it. But I really am teaching you how to talk to guys tomorrow."

"Alright, fine. If you insist."

Lys hung up. Sophie looked at the CD's on her bedspread, not sure if she should listen to some or not.

In the end, she decided to listen to some. What do I have to lose? Besides, he'll probably show up to Music Theory and quiz me on all of them.

She popped Green Day's '21st Century Breakdown' into her laptop, plugged in her headphones, and started listening.

"Sing us the song of the century,

Louder than bombs and eternity..."

From there, the night was a montage of music from Jackson. She was skipping around Panic! At the Disco's 'Pretty. Odd.' when her mother called to her.

"SOPHIEEEEE! IT'S TIME FOR DINNER!"

"Coming!" She flicked the music off and headed downstairs.

She wasn't ready for was the full-blown interrogation from her parents, so realistic that she truly believed she was one step away from signing her confession and going to prison for life.

"Who's this Jackson boy you were..." Her mother paused for a moment, scowling in through as she sipped her peach tea.  "Oh, what's the new hip lingo all of the kids are using these days?  'Chilling'?  Who were you 'chilling' with today?" She used finger quotes around the word.

"We're doing a project together." She shrugged. "It's no big deal."

A smile touched her mother's cheeks.  "So is he your boyfriend?"

"No!" Sophie crammed a forkful of salad in her mouth, hoping no one would ask her any more on the subject.

Her mother poured some more ranch on her salad, scowling thoughtfully. "He's Catholic, isn't he?"

"I didn't ask."

Her father gave Sophie a serious look. "Is he an atheist?"

"Dad!" Sophie protested around a mouthful of salad.

"Oh.  So, he is a heretic." He sighed, taking a solemn bite of his chicken.

"No, he's not, but that doesn't matter," Sophie said, slightly annoyed.

"Is he Jewish?"

"Dad!" Sophie exclaimed again, exasperated.

"Oh. Right, so he's Jewish."

"I kind of doubt it," she said. "Besides, it doesn't matter. It's not like we're getting married. We're doing a project."

Her mother nodded smartly. "And you aren't doing anything else together until after you get married, right?"

"We're not getting married anyway!"

"He's not gay, is he?" Sophie's dad asked. "I'm sorry, but if he's gay, I'm not coming to the wedding."

"Dad!" She grimaced. "If he was gay, he'd never marry me in the first place."

Both Sophie's parents spoke at once:

"So you are getting married?"

"So he is gay?"

"No!"

Sophie shook her head in despair. Sometimes her parents were clueless.

Her mother sighed. "Sophie, you can marry whoever you want. As long as he's a good, Christian boy who can give us grandkids."

"I'm not getting married! It's just a project!" Sophie exclaimed, throwing her hands in the air helplessly.

"Well, do you like him?" Her father asked, eating some chicken.

Sophie blushed. "No."

Her father looked dubious, but winked and gave her a playful nudge with his elbow. "Whatever you say, peanut."

"Dad," Sophie muttered. "I'm sixteen. I'm not peanut anymore."

"You'll always be my little peanut," he cooed, pinching Sophie's cheek. She tried to stay stoic, but her dad always succeeded in making her smile.

"Alright, dad," she humored him and ate her dinner. As soon as she finished her chicken, she rushed back upstairs and popped her earbuds back in.  She popped The Black Parade by My Chemical Romance into her laptop's CD drive and started working on a paper for her German class.  Good Christian boy or not, she had to admit that Jackson had a pretty okay taste in music.