A Recipe for Disaster (Clash Of Cliches Book 2)

Chapter 1- Oh, Man, Why Me?

A Recipe for Disaster (Clash of Clichés Book 2).

DISCLAIMER

This story contains an excessive usage of clichés and should not, in all honesty, be taken seriously. And when I say excessive, I really mean it.

All rights reserved. I OWN NOTHING YOU RECOGNISE (AND SOME THINGS YOU DON'T.) If you steal my work, I will take legal action against you. I mean it. I worked hard on this story and I don't want to read the exact same story on another site with the names changed. Not cool.

© 2017 hotcheri.

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Chapter One. Man, Why Me?

Janessa's Point of View.

My crush invited himself to be my plus one at an MLB All-Star game, and I ended up regretting it.

Sounds like the title of an episode of MTV-True Life, right? Well, it's true life, all right. Unfortunately, it happens to be my life. What we're seeing here, ladies and gents, is the true definition of irony: spending my last semester of high school laughing at my friend's terrible choices (namely Kay-Bear), only to turn out to be the CEO of Team Bad Decisions for the entire summer. Karma was getting me back for all the snarky comments I made to Ryder Jefferson, I just knew it.

I mean, what else could explain how I magically appeared on an MLB kiss cam, only to end up kissing my older brother's friend while my crush was getting me a hotdog?

Record scratch, because I never for a second thought I would ever put a sentence like that together, and yet, here we are.

Usually, when I wanted something, I went to get it myself. It was typical Janessa Banks behavior, because as the youngest of 5 siblings (and the only girl, which is important), I needed to be assertive in getting what I wanted, or I would never get anything.

But because I wanted Leroy François to believe that I was the feminine flower that my mom has been wanting me to be for years and asked him to go get me a hotdog, something that I honestly could have done myself, shit hit the fan.

A damn hotdog.

And not one of the fancy, expensive ones either. I screwed myself over for a $2 hotdog with extra relish, because if I hadn't asked Leroy to go get me a hotdog, he would have been there when the kiss cam focused on me and my stylish sun hat, and I would have gotten the chance to organically show him that we belong together, just like Mariah Carey envisioned when she sang that song for us.

I mean, Leroy had invited himself to the MLB All-Star game despite not knowing anything about baseball (I know this because I had to explain everything to him, even the concept of the first pitch), so he was definitely feeling me. And that's a big deal, because everyone who's anyone will tell you that hanging with me for a few hours can feel like community service, depending on my mood. Rude of them, I know. But karma decided to haunt me on a day that should have been perfect, and this is coming from a girl who usually doesn't believe in ridiculous things like karma, so you know it's real serious.

Let's figure out how I got into this mess. You see, if my 'supportive' (what a joke, amiright?) twin brother, Jermaine, had simply agreed to come with me to the MLB game, I wouldn't have asked Leroy to come with me. Let's be honest, Leroy does NOT appreciate sports, which is why I like him. And if Jermaine had come with me, the seat next to mine wouldn't have been empty during intermission because while Leroy was eager to get me a hotdog, Maino would have said his catch phrase (for anyone who's interested, it's 'hell no'), meaning that Kameron Wallace wouldn't have been able to sit next to me and the kiss cam moment wouldn't have happened.