Cliché

chapter 11. the tangerine

One of the most annoying things a character faces during the lifetime of their story is waiting. Waiting for the plot to come together, waiting for the climax to be over, waiting for the happily ever after so this whole hell can be done and over with—

—waiting for the stupid Quarterback to arrive so we can knock some sense into that empty, author-filled head of his.

"When is he coming?" I complain, stuffing an entire peeled tangerine in my mouth out of sheer boredom.

"Iris. It's only been five minutes," Brie laughs, shaking her head as she scrolls through her phone. "Give him some time."

"Stupid author," I mutter, coming out muffled and unintelligible from the whole tangerine that's sitting in my mouth.

After ten more minutes and a trip to the sink to wipe the juice that flowed down my chin from my attempt to bite down, Quarterback still hasn't shown up. Brie finally puts down her phone, dismayed.

"Where is he?" Brie mumbles. "Iris, you did give him your address right?"

I freeze as I reach for yet another tangerine, narrowing my eyes in recollection. "Did I? No, I do not believe I did so."

"Iris—"

"It's fine. The author will handle it." I wave nonchalantly, dismissing her concerns.
And right at that moment, with timing so perfect that it's only possible in fiction, the doorbell rings.

"Speak of the devil and he shall appear." I grin, throwing the tangerine I was reaching for to Brie. "Peel this for me, will you? I'll open the door."

With a sudden boost of determination, I skip towards the front door, swinging it open to find the Quarterback leaning against the pillar of the porch.

At the sight of me, he straightens up, nodding politely my way. "Hey, Iris."

"Hi," I greet back, giving him a tight smile and opening the door wider. "Come in."

He follows me inside (after a frightening incident where he almost stepped in with his shoes on— but of course, I stopped him on time and forced him to take them off), through the living room and into the kitchen. Brie is behind the counter nervously waiting for us, fidgeting with the peeled tangerine in her hands.

The Quarterback stops at the doorway when he catches sight of her, narrowing his eyes in suspicion. "What is she doing here?" He questions cautiously, his voice suddenly turning sharp like a glass shard.

"She's my best friend. Why can't she be here?" I fire back.

"I am?" Brie smiles warmly, touching her hand to her heart.

I wink at her while grabbing the tangerine. "Of course. You peeled this for me."

Even with our genial exchange, the Quarterback still decides to cross the room, aggressively putting an arm out in front of me to protect me from Brie.

"Is she blackmailing you to get closer to me?" He accuses, all the while still staring Brie down. "Look, B, whatever you want with me, leave Iris out of it."

I roll my eyes, grabbing the Quarterback's wrist and leading him towards the couch. As he takes a seat, a confused frown etched on his lips, I hold out my free hand. "Give me your backpack."

His frown deepens, but he follows my instruction anyways. "Why?" He asks slowly.

I don't say anything as he hands it to me, instead calmly walking to the open kitchen window and chucking it out into the backyard.

"What the hell?" The Quarterback shouts, jumping up from his seat.

I turn back around, a nonchalant smile on my face. "We're not going to be doing a lot of tutoring today."