Yeah, no. We didn't make out at the movie house.
How the hell are you supposed to when you're both Geeks watching Batman v Superman: Dawn of Justice?
The whole time afterwards, we were just talking about the movie.
Awesome job, by the way, Snyder.
Don't worry, I won't spoil.
"God, that was just awesome!!"
"I loved the part when Clark did that to Lois in the bath. Classic Snyder." She said.
"Yeah, you almost did that to me just before we left."
"Oh, stop giving notions of what you wanna do to me and what you want me to do to you." She said.
"Anyway. Why was it *****man who had to carry the ********** ***** to Doomsday though? I mean, it was nice that they pulled a Superman: Doomsday on us and we all knew it was coming to him and the hint of **justice was a nice touch, but, plot hole."
"But Snyder did an amazing job." She said.
"Agreed. You thirsty?"
"We just had Pina Coladas, Buck."
"Yeah, before the movie. I'm getting a Cantaloupe Smoothie."
"Waita minute, Bucko." She said. Heh. New one. "Don't tell me, by any chance, that Cantaloupe Melon flavored anything..."
"IS ALSO YOUR FAVORITE FLAVOR?! NO WAY!! THAT'S IT, TWO CANTALOUPES PLEASE, MAKE EM LARGE. Nope, not extra. Jess, extra?" She shook her head in response, "NOWE'RE GOOD, LARGE WOULD DO." I said to the lady running the Willy Shak3s booth.
Third size, about 25oz., if you were wondering.
Willy Shak3s. Heh. Funny. Like William Shakespeare.
"Do they serve the smoothies with lines from his play?" She said.
"Were you just reading my mind right now?" I asked immediately.
"You're a fan of his plays too?"
"Is there ANYTHING we don't both like?" I asked.
"I don't think so." She shook her head while making a sour, disagreeing face.
We waited less than three minutes before the Barista spoke.
"Two Cantaloupes for the lovebirds."
"Oh, we're not--"and we both decidednot to say that together.
"Yeah. Right. Enjoy your melons." She said.
I held the beverages, and as I gave one to Jess, I said immediately, as if on impulse,
"DON'T. EVEN. SAY IT."
Because we all knew the infinite possibilities the word 'Melons' had to offer her.
"You were thinking it, though." She smiled as she sipped through her straw.
"Anyway. Loved that Robin tease." I said as I took my sip.
"Yeah! Can't wait to see my favorite villain." She said.
"The Joker?"
"Don't tell me he's also yer..."
"Oh, finally. Nah. Too many villains to choose from to decide a favorite."
"Man, if only the Joker was a female. And don't say Harley, no I want to be the full Psycho himself."
I was a bit surprised there.
So sarcastically, I said.
"Yeah, you'd make a fine Miss J."
"..."
"..."
Both our eyes widened. We were standing there in the middle of a crowded food court, sipping our Willy Shakes, In Silent Mental Agreement.
"MISS J!!!!" I said. Okay, shouted a whisper.
Like you do when you Rock on to AC/DC but your voice isn't as high as Bon Scott's, so you just shout whispers.
"It works, I mean, my name does start with a J."
"Yes!! Jessica! My captivating Miss J!!" I was acting Autistic now.
"Calm down, Mister Adorkable. Congrats. You made a nickname for me. Bout time."
"Oh, I almost forgot. If we head back to the village now, we'd be just in time for the sunset." I said.
"Our houses are on the East side of the hill."
"The village covers the entire hill, Miss J, I haven't shown you the West Side."
"Let's go make A West Side Story." She said.
"Not a good one." I replied.
"Yeah, I'm suddenly losing my touch, what the hell's happening?"
"I don't know." Oh yes, I do. You're finally head over heels for your good looking best friend.
"Come on. I said."
We made our way to the parking lot (Not to make out on the hood of a random car, what?!)
"What about our shakes?" She asked.
"Oh." I smirked before sliding my finger on the motor seat to reveal a hidden cupholder compartment.
"Cool." I can't believe I impressed her with cupholders.
"Now, get ready to not speak throughout the trip." I said as I handed her her helmet. She smirked (SEXILY) as she placed it on.
I started up the engine and hit play as those epic riffs played once more.
YOU ARE READING
This Should Make A Terrible Story
Teen FictionHow the hell do I spend my summer? Sixteen year old Arthur Grayson repeated the question to himself, over and over. He couldn't see her coming, and how she could possibly change his life. *NOTE: VERY MATURE. RATED R16*
