Pickup Notes

Borrowing Kisses

I though for a moment, then wrote down one of my favorite pickup lines on a piece of looseleaf paper.

Can I borrow a kiss? I promise I will give it back.

Ha, I wish.

It has been a week or two since Natalie, Kyle and I have started the Pickup Notes, and to my delight, Peyton seemed a little distracted nowadays. She wasn't joined to the hip with Ian anymore, either, which was a plus. And Natalie said she was really curious about the whole thing.

Natalie also mentioned that Ian didn't know about the notes.

Of course he didn't. It was just a letter with barely a sentence on it. But I was going to win her heart with those notes.

Right through Ian's fingers.

And that thought pleased me. Not just because I would be getting the better of Ian...who I was sort of a rival with....but I have been infatuated with her since I was five. I deserved a chance. I can't say that I deserved her. She isn't an object to win, she is a person with feelings, and I want her to feel something for me.

I know I probably sound like a love sick puppy...and that analysis is probably right, but how would you feel if your crush since forever was around you all of the time, but never being able to tell her how I feel.

"You wrote one, right?" Natalie said coming up to me. "Can I see it?"

Wordlessly and deep in thought, I gave it to her. She smirked at me.

"How would this work on anyone?"

"That's it, they are so cheesy, they don't work, which means it will work."

"That makes no sense," She deadpaned.

"I know."

"That doesn't make sense either."

"Why not?"

"Because you are stupid, you don't know anything."

"Not true! Two plus two equals four!" I said proudly.

Natalie gave me a look, and turned away to put the note in Peyton's locker. As she walked away, she muttered "Boys," with a shake of her head. I don't understand. Was that supposed to be an insult? It wasn't very offensive. I like being a boy. And it isn't like I choose what parts to be born with!

You know, this is a weird brain conversation that I think I will stop from continuing. At this rate I will have to check myself into a mental hospital. I need to stop talking to myself.

"C'mon, man," Kyle said, slapping me on the back, coming from like, air, or something. "You haven't done anything relatively fun in ages."

"You mean getting drunk and having sex?"

"Yeah!"

"Dude, you are turning into a bigger manwhore than I am. And that's saying something."

"Dude, you know I haven't exactly done the deed more than a few times," He defended. "I do fancy the idea of going to a party with my best friend. We haven't gone to one in three weeks. Besides, though I don't exactly want to hook up with anyone, it could be fun. What'd you say?"

"Your British accent sucks man."

"That's all you have to say?" He asked incredulously.

"I'll go, but I'm not drinking."

"Fine, you okay with driving all of our drunk bastard friends home?"

"Are you going to drink anything?"