One thing about me, Julie Ann Jones, is I love a challenge. Especially if the challenger is my hot boyfriend, Evan. As I sit at my desk, I hear his words in my ears like he'd just spoken them. It's hard to imagine it was yesterday.
"You're such a cheesy writer," he began like always, pulling me on his lap. Usually I complained a little but took it like a man. Well, woman.
Though yesterday, I pushed him away and stood up in the tree house. Since the first time he had brought me up here, it had become our spot. The spot where no one knew where we were so they couldn't bother us. I took a deep breath and turned to him.
"I can write good, Evan," I sighed, crossing my arms.
"Not as good as me, Mrs. Strawberry," he snickered. I pressed my lips together, resisting the urge to complain about the stupid nickname he gave me.
"Okay then. If you think you're such a great writer, then I demand a write off."
"A write off?" He raised a sexy eyebrow at me and my will almost crumbled.
"Yep. You write a love story and I'll write a poem. The one who gets the most reads and votes by the end of the week wins."
This just seemed to amuse him more. "You write a poem? I might as well take my prize now."
"Who said there were prizes?"
"Me. What do I get when I win this little write off?"
"Uh, I'm not sure. What do you want?"
He got up and walked over to me. Circling his arms around my waist, he leaned in and whispered in my ear.
"I want you to admit how much of a cheesy writer you are."
I had immediately fled the tree house before I could go back on the challenge. Evan had his ways to persuade me.
So, now I'm screwed. I have no idea how to write a poem. Do they all have to rhyme? What should I do it about? I take a deep breath, knowing Evan probably isn't doing any better. How could he write a love story?
Logging into Wattpad, the first thing that pops up is a new story by Evan. It's called 'My Wattpad Love'. My Wattpad Love? He already has a story up? Okay, it can't be that good. I keep trying to reassure myself.
Clicking on it, I read the first chapter.
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Again, I'm screwed! He wrote in my point of view! I don't know how, but he'd also gotten it perfect. The way I had found Wattpad, the way it pulled me in. He even remembered all of our first chat. It looked like he had done research on it or something.
I even understood the meaning of that last sentence. It's so on! It's a message to me. He knows I can't write poetry and he's rubbing it in! Well, I'll show him!
So I sit at my desk for another hour, staring blankly at my computer screen. How the heck does Evan do this? What should I write about? Love, hate, happy, sad? I sigh, deciding on love. I don't want to write about Evan because he's already writing about us. Sooooo, what?
Then, it hits me. I'm writing about love. And what is the one thing in this world I love more than Evan? No, it isn't Laura, Jason, Shane, or Jordan. They all come after what I'm writing my poem about. If you haven't guessed it by now, it's Ruffles. Running downstairs, I grab a big bag from my secret stash (I've kept them hidden ever since Shane decided to eat all of them). I eat a few chips before typing.
Ruffles, my dear Ruffles,
How may I describe you?
What do I feel when I open the light blue bag?
I feel delight when I bite into you
I feel like I must brag
For me, Ruffles are always on the menu
Without you, I wouldn't know what to do!
So Ruffles, my dear Ruffles,
You are the best thing in the world
I love you more than some dude named Herald!
