The Popularity Game

{ s e v e n } Standard Procedure

His face was filled with amusement at my sudden outburst, and I could see a smirk beginning to form. I wanted to slap it off of his smug face. Seriously, what was it with bad boys and smirking? Did they not know how to smile or something?

He chuckled and walked past me, crossing his arms as he leaned against the plain white wall. "Nothing." He said, the smirk still playing at his lips—it took all the strength that I had to restrain myself from punching him straight in his esophagus. "Brooks was bragging about how you two are going out tonight. And really, Sanders? I thought you at least had standards."

I looked at him appalled. That was what this was all about? Why he was acting more douche than usual? Truth be told, I'd completely forgotten about the date, but I wasn't going to let him know that.

I scoffed, rolling my eyes just for extra measure. "I do have standards. That's why I said yes to him."

Actually, I said yes to him because I didn't know what he was asking me out, and because I was too busy staring at Ja—

Okay Erin, you need to stop right now.

"You barely know the guy."

"And you do?" I snapped at him. Since when did he care about who I went out with? We weren't even on speaking terms a month ago.

"He isn't the nice guy that you think he is, trust me." He said. "I'm saying this as a friend, not as someone who just really hates his guts."

Honestly, he was confusing the heck out of me. One minute he goes on about how I don't have standards, and the next he's telling me that we're friends? "Let's get one thing straight, Matthews. I don't know why you're pretending like you need to look out for me, but you don't care about me—or anybody else, for that matter.

He narrowed his eyes at me, and looked at me as if he were studying me—as if I were a puzzle that he was trying to piece together. He would never figure me out. I wasn't just a puzzle, I was a freaking labyrinth.

I snapped my fingers in front of his face, bringing his attention back to me. "You need to mind your own business, and we have a science project to work on." I turned my back and headed towards my laptop, which was sitting on the mahogany desk at the other side of the room. I looked back at his direction and found him in the exact same position—arms crossed, casually leaning his back against the wall, feet only slightly apart, and eyes downcast, as if he were studying the floor intently.

I sighed and started to read the instructions that the teacher had given us. I read the words again and again, but failed to absorb it. The words blurred as I tried to read it again for the umpteenth time; and I finally decided that I couldn't do this if Jason was right there, doing absolutely nothing.

I sighed and slammed the paper back on the table. "Are you going to help me or not?"

He looked up at me with a blank face. "Are you going to let me help you? Because every time I try, you always go into that I'm-judging-you thing." He glared at me some more, and I wanted to sink into my seat, but I kept my composure.

I sighed and ran a frustrated hand through my hair. "Fine. Just help me with this already."

He pushed himself off of the wall and made his way to my direction. He leaned over the desk and took the instructions, reading through it silently as I pretended to google something in my laptop. His fingers drummed lightly over the paper as he read through it, and when he finally finished, he ran a hand through his hair. "Let's get this over with."

_

"No! You're supposed to be screwing that part there!"

"It doesn't fit in there! Open your tiny little eyes and actually look at the model would you?"

It was roughly two hours since we had started, and we had about seven percent worth of progress.

Hey, at least it's a start.

Jason carefully placed the screwdriver where I had instructed him to, and started screwing in the other part that we had finished. "I think that's how it's supposed to look like, right?" The product of our hard work—because arguing with him was very hard work—looked like a cross between a beaten up cyborg and a retarded wall-e.

He scoffed, tilting his head sideways to get a better glimpse of it. "If it's supposed to look like a robot with one arm and uneven legs, then yes, we hit the jackpot."

"Well maybe if we just—" I tilted the project sideways, only to get a more confusing picture.

Nope, no matter what angle we put it, it didn't make it better.

Jason held his hands up in mock-defeat. "That's it. I'm done. I can't do this anymore, and this only proves my theory correct."

I looked at him in confusion. "What theory?"

He smirked at me and sat up from his previous position. "That I'd go insane if I stayed with you for long periods of time." I rolled my eyes at him, even though I was trying to stifle a laugh from coming out. I rested my head on the plush cushions of the sofa, looking at the ceiling as he started cleaning up—if dumping various lego parts into a bag was cleaning up, then he was completely spot-on.

"If you'd rather work with Amy, I'd be happy to trade you for Dan." I said in a teasing manner. I wasn't looking at him, but I knew that the very thought of working with one of his admirers could physically sicken him.

Jason groaned and looked at me with pleading eyes. "Never mind. I take it all back. I hate working with those cheerleader girls. They never get the work done. All they do is ogle me while they try to look smart and say crap about things that aren't even right."

"Hey, remember when you were paired up with that head cheerleader for the english play?" I laughed as i reminisced about the memory. We were doing Romeo and Juliet, and they had to re-enact the kissing scene.

Let's just say that the girl got way into it.

Instead of his usual arrogant. response, my reply was met with silence. I looked at him as he sat cross-legged on the floor, with a confused look. "That was in freshman year. Didn't you transfer here during sophomore year?"

Oh crap.

I needed to cover this quick. "Umm, yeah. Chloe told me that story." I let out a small laugh after that, just to make sure that he would buy it.

He merely shrugged it off and stood up, pulling his backpack up with him. "That was a complete waste of time. And fortunately, I have to go now—I have better things to do."

I stood up from the couch, ignoring his insult. I'd gotten used to them by now. "Well that works, because I have better things to do too." I made my way to the door, opening it for him.

He looked at me carefully before stepping out. "Better things, as in going out with Brooks tonight?"

It was then that I noticed how close we were. I could smell his musky scent radiating from him, and his pale blue eyes glistened with curiosity as the weight of the unanswered question hung in the air. I gave him a slight nod, and then looked down at my hand, which was still holding the brass door knob.

He sighed, and he stepped out of the door, but before I could close it behind him, he turned back to me and looked at me with a look that could potentially be scarier than a basilisk.

"Don't come crying to me when you get your heart broken."

And then I shut the door behind him, leaving me to the silence of my room, and the thoughts that came in the wake of his last words.