Larry Stylinson

Firetruck

I groaned.

"Don't groan at me. Mr. Tomlinson," Ms. Fuckface ordered.

"Sorry 'bout it," I said, voice filled with sarcasm.

"Don't get an attitude with me, Mr. Tomlinson."

"Well, guess what?" I began. and started to exit the empty classroom, "This isn't Burger King, you can't always have it your way." I turned my back to her and before I slammed the door, I heard her yell 'Detention!' and I may or may not have flipped her the bird.

* * *

I crept up behind Marcel who was standing at his locker, getting his things and such. I put my hand on his shoulder and he jumped, causing a few books to fall. We both squatted down to reach for the items.

"I'm really sorry about that, Marcel," I said as I stacked up a couple of books.

"N-no, th-that's alright. I'm s-such a klutz anyways, I should have a, uh, warning sign on my back," he stammered with a nervous chuckle and I chuckled too, because I didn't want him to feel lame.

"No, that was all me. I totally snuck up on you. But, I do have a question to ask you," I said as I stood with a few books and watched his tall frame straighten up. I looked up in his eyes, through his cute glasses.

He pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose, "Shoot."

I handed him his books, and I swear he put his hand on mine on purpose.

"I need tutoring, Ms. Fuckface said if I don't, I'll fail the class,"  I said with a roll of my eyes.

"So you just want me for my smarts?" he said with a fake hurt expression.

"Exactly," I said, and took my lip ring into my mouth.

"Well, I guess that's fair. Just come to my house tomorrow, I'll help you out."

I slapped his back, "Thanks, nerd." He rolled his eyes and we parted ways.

Marcel and I have been friends for a little while now, if you could call it that. I keep bullies from bullying him, which is easy as they all seem to be scared of me. I may be short, but the tattoos, piercings, and not to mention my totally hot bod make up for it. We talk every once in a while, and I thinks he's really adorable-with his thick rimmed glasses, slicked up hair, high pitched voice, and those sweater vests-and I know he will be the death of me. I've only ever been to his house once, last week-after school tutoring, but I know how to get there. Quite honestly, I can't wait for tomorrow.

* * *

I woke up at the ass crack of dawn. Why? I don't fucking know.

I got up out of bed, seeing as I wasn't able to go back to sleep, and decided to make myself some breakfast on this lovely Saturday morning. (Note the sarcasm)

After I made ate my breakfast, I took a shower and all that good stuff. Finally, I was on my couch watching reruns of Boy Meets World, and I was not getting choked up because Angela was about to leave Sean to go to Europe with her dad...nope, definitely not.

It was around nine when I decided to go to Marcel's place. I grabbed my school bag, walked to the car, and I was on my way. I tapped the beat of the metal song on the on the steering wheel, lightly bobbing my head, as I made my way through traffic. Ten minutes later, I found myself smiling and basically skipping to Marcel's front door.

After a few knocks, I looked down at my Toms while rocking back and forth on my feet. I sucked my lip ring into my mouth and began to wiggle my toes nervously as I held onto the backpack strap that was over my shoulder.