How to Be Cliche (A Novel)

(2) If My Calculations Are Correct

Woo hoo! :D

***

Gorgeous went out like a light after I hit him. I figured I would give the guy a break before I called the police, and at least prevent him from getting run over by a fellow rich-boy's car. If anything, I wanted to be the one that ran him over with a car after he scared me like that.

If any of you have ever lifted someone at dead weight, especially a guy, you understand my struggle of trying to get Gorgeous onto the grass and out of the middle of the road.

I'm not a serial killer, I swear. I used to do Hot Yoga and most of the cocky guys that thought the class would be easy, and showed up to a total of one class, fainted within the first twenty minutes. I was the only girl in the class that was actually strong enough to dead lift twice my own weight.

Looking up and down the streets cautiously, I grabbed Gorgeous by upper arms and started to haul him onto the sidewalk, then rolled him like I was spreading out cookie dough onto the cushiony emerald grass of a neighbor that I prayed wasn't looking out their window in horror.

I stood back and assessed my "situation."The fact that he had no shirt on, even though it was very hot and it was acceptable for men to wear no shirt--even though they clearly just have flatter breasts than women and it makes no sense, screamed arrogance, and a possible goal for a full ride into a IV League, partying college, where he can meet a lot of hot chicks.

I snorted. "Typical man."

Whoever he was, I had concluded that he was definitely a well-trained, aggressive athlete who maybe had some daddy issues. Not only am I good at reading people, but I'm very observant. So when Gorgeous had collapsed onto the road after my foot collided with his pretty nose, I had seen there were already scrapes and cuts along his knees, as well as grass stains. Most likely, he's a quarterback of the football team who was dating the head cheerleader-- a stuck up bitch with bleach blonde hair and who has a manicure appointmemt every day.

Call me crazy, but that sounded about right.

Curious, I crouched down and poked at his butt, which was perfectly shaped for a guy. Wow. That's one rock-hard tush. Definitely gets all the ladies.

Watching Gorgeous unconscious was definitely an educational and worthy of a Creepy Award, but it was also very stupid, once realized he was face down in the grass, suffocating.

"Shoot!" I quickly rolled Blondie over on his side. Bringing my face close to his and fingering his pulse, I put my ear to his mouth and sighed when I heard him softly breath. Good, the arrogant caveman that had been checking out my butt minutes before wasn't dead.

But his nose was profusely bleeding.

Double shoot!

I'm not usually one to admit my mistakes, but kicking the guy in the face might have been a little over the top. In fact, I might have even felt sorry for the guy, who had inappropriately threw a--what appeared to be, dirty pick-up line, after following me for who knows how long up the street. I mean, he didn't know that I was a black belt and had a rape whistle called "The Ear Blower 2000". Had he known all of that, I bet he would have thought twice about sneaking up on me like that when I was deep in thought.

There was only one solution here, or at least from what I could tell, and that was to scream really loud in his ear and wake him up before someone else saw.

So I did just that. It was just unfortunate that it happened right as the timed sprinklers in the yard we were in went off, and a neighborhood watchman came strolling by in his car. And when I say the sprinkler system went on, I mean it felt like it was down pouring, there were so many dang sprinklers on that rich person's lawn.