The Clichés

Chapter Two

As Dylan crosses over to Vanessa, she starts to bite her fingernails. God, after this was over, she was so gonna be pissed at herself. She spent like, a whole two hours giving herself a manicure last night as a self care treatment. He leans against her cream colored locker now, fiddling with his keys and avoiding her eyes. God, he had the clearest skin she's ever seen. 

"Just wanted to say thanks," he says. "But, you don’t need to do that. People think what they want about me, they always will. I don’t care.” Vanessa looks at him with a bit of a frown. On one hand, her chest is bursting open from the sheer force of her anxiety. On the other hand, she feels the need to give him a lecture. How could he talk like that when he encourages it? It made no sense. 

"But you guys make them talk," Vanessa says. "You can correct it. That's if you're not what they say you are, anyway."

"Vanessa,” he chuckles. “How many people believe the tomato is a fruit? How many think it's a vegetable? And how many are convinced it's both? And what time or research or whatever did it take them?"

Vanessa can't stop herself from laughing. Well, this certainly isn't the kind of humor she expected him to have. Though she didn’t really know what she was expecting, to be honest. Crude humor, maybe? She likes to think that she wouldn’t believe something so stereotypical, but it has taken her this long to question Dylan’s outward persona. She grabs the knob of her locker for support. 

Dylan watches her, a silly smile on his face. It was rare that he could make anyone except his boys laugh, and even then, they mostly laughed at him, not with him. Still, he couldn’t help the wide smile that bloomed on his face, hurting his cheeks. Here he was, able to make this random girl laugh. Maybe that could be how he repays her for sticking up for him: laughter. After all, everyone could always use a good laugh. 

"So, what do you believe?" Vanessa says finally. "Is it a fruit or a vegetable?"

Dylan leans in closer. "Fine, let me sneak in the moral of that lesson. You see, the arguments will go on and on for centuries, but the tomato remains whatever it is. No matter what we think, a tomato can just be a tomato."

"You're funny. Of all things, it was the tomato you could bring up." Vanessa laughed.

"Blame my terrific cooking skills," he said with a wink.

"You know, I didn't know you could even crack jokes. Even though I'd spoken that way to Carol, I still believed you were a player. I was constantly telling myself, 'Hey girl, make sure this whole defense bullshit you're pulling off isn't a crush or something,’ you know?"

"Jesus, Vanessa!" he covers his face with his hands, feigning shyness. "I don't know, I don't know. Let's just leave it at that." 

"So…?" 

"So?" he responds, teasing her with a smirk that shows off his dimples, even though he knows exactly what she’s asking.

"I mean, so you're not, like, a player?"

"Of course I am,” he said, not missing a beat. “I’m the cute little mouse who's trying to look beautiful so the cat won't eat it—"

"Be serious," she deadpans.

"As serious as the staff meetings at Crownston." Another round of laughter, then he looks at his wristwatch. "Hey Vanessa, I have to go now. Let me meet up with my guys. But hey, I could take you out for drinks sometime, yeah?"

"As long as you don't bring your cliché guys along."

He sees her as he crosses to the other side, still standing there, her mouth agape, keys in hands. What thoughts he must have roused in her, he thinks. It baffles him now, now that he's away from her, how she summoned that courage to defend him. Was she really crushing on him? How could anyone crush on him despite his reputation? Plenty of girls have been attracted to him and wanted to fuck him, and some of them, he did. But it never quite worked out, since every time they tried to get too close and ask about his family, he closed up like a clam. Vanessa hadn't even met him yet and she still defended him based on suspicions. Who is this girl…? He wondered.