Stereotypical

I | He, Who Hates Being Ignored

Mood:

"Hit Me With Your Best Shot"

-Pat Benatar

"I really wish I could ignore the fact that you're ignoring me."

Those words were this close to ticking me off. "Trust me," I sang, "its easier than it looks at first." I flipped the page of my book and leaned back, scanning the words mindlessly. I couldn't concentrate on anything with Parker Winston literally breathing down my neck. His breath was warm and tickled my skin. It smelled like green apple.

"Can you tell me why you're ignoring me?" he asked.

I rolled my eyes up at the ceiling, biting my lip. You know, most kids just walked away when you tried ignoring them. But Parker, he kept bothering you—forcing you to pay attention to him. It was the beginning of sixth period, and he'd been on my tail since breakfast. He had even stood outside of the girls' bathroom when I ducked inside in a desperate attempt to lose him. From there, he had walked shoulder-to-shoulder with me to Biology, the last class we had.

Its Friday, I reminded myself. Thirty-five more minutes and you won't have to worry about him. I flipped the page again. Until Monday. I kept my eyes glued to the black ink words, grimacing when he pulled his chair obnoxiously to the side of my desk. I could feel the eyes of onlookers (nosy, female onlookers who plotted my death by the second) burning holes in my face and back. Parker Winston was a boy who only talked to girls to hook up.

No doubt, they thought he was out to get ass. To be honest, I was thinking the same thing. He leaned close, and I vowed that if he didn't back up, he'd be receiving a palm-sized bruise on his cheek. His breath washed over my face. "Its my hair, isn't it?" The question caught me off guard. I broke my first rule and snapped my head up to stare at him. He repeated himself, 

"Its my hair, isn't it?"

I broke rule number two. "What?" That had to be one of the dumber things I've ever heard in my life.

Parker raised a hand to his dark locks and combed through them with his fingers. "My hair. You don't like me because of my hair, right?" His eyebrows rose hopefully, as though he'd actually thought that it was a plausible reason. I opened my mouth, realizing that he really did believe that.

"You're so shallow," I said to him, shutting my book and throwing it inside of my desk. "You wanna know why I don't like you? Its because you're ignorant and persistent and annoying and—" I stopped when I saw the smile on his face. "And what the hell is so funny?" I demanded.

Parker propped his chin up on his hand and smirked. "You're not ignoring me anymore." His tone held a triumphant note. I closed my eyes and counted to ten. I opened them again, and was met with that same smug look. "I knew I could break your precious little walls."

I opened my mouth again, but found myself speechless. Broke my walls? Broke my walls? I wanted to slam his face into a wall! I straightened my back, and for once found myself towering over his own slouching form. "You didn't break shit but my patience for you and your stupid games. You shallow piece of—"

"No need for name calling," Parker said evenly. "Aggression is the next step towards realizing one's attraction to another human being." he fluttered his eyelashes.

"You repel me," I retorted. "You're too fake to ever be loved." With a huff, I turned and flicked my sweatshirt hood over my head. I buried my face in my arms, hoping that a nap would calm my broken nerves.

"Wait," I heard him say. I closed my eyes and edged away. Screw Parker.  "Wait!" His voice was more urgent, this time. 

I was blinded by sudden light when he ripped my hood down. I glared at him and fixed my sweatshirt. "What?" I barked. It was louder than I'd wanted, and the teacher turned to look at us, pressing a finger to her lips.

"You guys are being too loud," she announced.

The class immediately lowered their voices to whispers, glancing at us from their sides of their eyes. I leaned back in my seat and crossed my arms. "I thought we already settled this; I don't like you, so you go find another set of ovaries to destroy."

His features lit up. "I do that?" When I gave him a blank, annoyed look, Parker shook his head and whispered, "Okay, no wait. What do you mean 'too fake to ever be loved'? Like, by you or...?" he chuckled softly. This one wasn't like his other self-assured spurts of laughter—this one held fear. I raised my eyebrows, pleased to see him uncomfortable for once.

I stared him in the eyes. "I meant exactly what I said. You're so fake that all you'll ever be good for are those little flings you have already." I looked at the room, at all of the students who watched and wondered what we were whispering about. "No girl will actually love you. If they want to have your babies, its because you have a pretty face and a nice set of genes." I forced a sweet smile. "You're so fucking stereotypical that I have to wonder: did you get your personality from the diary of a thirteen-year-old?"

For a moment—one sweet, pleasing moment, Parker Winston looked defeated. Speechless. Then he retaliated. "Is that coming from little miss shy girl?"

"I'm not—"

"You blush and stammer at everything that's thrown at you." He scoffed, "You can't even read in front of the class without your voice shaking!"

Without thinking, I pressed my hand into his chest. He fell away from me. "Better than being a fuckboy."

"Better? I don't see anyone wanting to be your friend," he snapped, his honey eyes ablaze.

I stood and leaned forward, losing my cool. "Nobody is your friend, Parker. Unfortunately, you're just a toy."

He pushed my shoulder and I fell into my chair. We glared at each other wordlessly, breathing heavily, and stayed that way for several moments. Eventually, he scoffed again and shook his head slowly. "I bet my balls you'll die alone."

"I bet my boobs you'll catch AIDS before eighteen." I narrowed my eyes.

"Ten bucks you can't have a one night stand without crying." He challenged

"Twenty bucks you can't maintain a steady relationship with all strings attached."

"Forty."

"Fifty."

"Sixty."

"Eighty." I clicked my tongue and crossed my legs. "Unless you wanna bump it up to a hundred."

He slapped his hand against my desk, his eyes narrowed. "One-hundred."

I shrugged. "Fine."

Parker stuck his other hand at me. "Shake on it."

The minute our hands locked, I found myself second-thinking. Was rage-betting really the path I wanted to take? I looked at Parker, hoping to see hesitation as well. His eyes were hard with determination.

Fuck.

+

AUTHOR'S NOTE:

Okay, as I was working, I realized that I said every Monday and Friday. Its Wednesday. So I was thinking that I could update every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday. That way I have a day between each update, and then an entire weekend to do whatever (writing other books and chapters). This update is shorter than I would have liked (its only like 1,100 words) and I personally think it escalates pretty freaking fast. If you agree, then PM and/or comment and I'll edit. If you're feeling generous...vote...maybe? 

More shortly,

❤️ TrainWreck_