How to Be Cliche (A Novel)

(4) Did I Just Say That Outloud?

HULLO, MY KITTENS. ENJOY.

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Blondie's face was priceless when a large, pale hand reached out and grasped her forearm before she could slap me in the face. She looked up at the persons face and there was a flicker of fear in her eyes.

"Thanks for holding her for me," I said, without looking at who had restrained her. Before I could cease my own opportunity to hit the bitch in the face, a tanned hand reached out and grabbed me in the same swift fashion as the pale guy who held Barbie. As our skin came in contact, a massive shock shot straight down my arm, right to my toes, stunning me.

"School hasn't even started and you've already got people screaming for you to get in a mud pool with a bikini on and fight another girl," a deep, smooth voice whispered in my ear. "And to think I thought you were a good girl," they added mockingly.

Furious, I cringed my neck up to see a familiar set of Caribbean blue eyes.

For a moment--a moment, I was in utter awe. I knew that I was looking at Sin, he had the same eyes and perfectly shaped jaw line, but never--not in a million years, could I have imagined him actually having brown hair and wearing a black leather jacket.

Damn, did he look good.

Turning away for a moment, I wiped drool from my mouth and put on my best scowl towards Barbie, who was standing next to a tall, fair-skinned guy with hair that was so blonde it was almost white, and who was a little smaller than Sin (who is a terrible comparison because I was convinced Sin was a homosexual steroid addict, so nobody could meet his size). The boy wore a maroon polo shirt and slacks, and stared at me with such an intense look that I couldn't quite place, what was definitely making me uncomfortable.

At his side, Barbie flipped me off with a smug little look.

My adrenalin had already been kicking in, now I felt my heart pounding against my breast bone, roaring to escape. Sin pressed a hand on my stomach, holding me back firmly. Laughing at the absurdity of Sin, the guy had pretended to be my boyfriend so we could fool a cop, playing "Boyfriend" and again and practically giving me little to no breathing room, made my start to feel caged.

"Step away from me or I'll knock your teeth out," I hissed under my breath.

He leaned real close to me, then, so that when he spoke his mouth brushed against my ear. "Our school has a no fighting policy. Feel free to thank me later. And wear those shorts you were wearing two weeks ago when you do."

"I'm going to kill you slowly, you blonde haired, perverted psychopath! It doesn't surprise me that you're stalking me!" If it was possible to yell while whispering, I was pulling it off quite nicely, if I do say so myself.

"Natural brunette. After you called me gay, I stripped the color. Now you can't say that anymore," he said, motioning to his dark hair with a bit of sideways smirk. "And psychopath? You're the one that punched a stranger in the face who was just complimenting you. Stalking, no. I'm just going to school like everyone else. I'm too nice to let someone make a fool of themselves like you almost did."

"You? Nice? Please. I saw what you left in my kitchen," I told him, my voice barely audible. "Do you know how much my father worshiped that kitchen counter? You're lucky I'm good at making up excuses or else he would have had your pretty little face on the grill and made a nice S.L.T sandwich. Sin, lettuce, and tomato."

"What?"

"Should I start calling you Wolverine, or are you going to explain what the heck kind of magic trick you freaking put claw marks in it? Tell me, when's the next full moon, doggy?"