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Description
Jill giggled heartily at my suggestion for the dance. "You're not serious, right? I mean, I know I've liked him since, like, 5th grade, but really, I don't like him THAT much."
"But I think he likes you, too!"
She lost it at that. What was left of the soda in her mouth came spewing out of her nose at the thought of that suggestion, and she fell to her knees, struggling to regain her breath. "You really had me going there, Mer. Don't DO that!"
I just scoffed. "Obviously you haven't seen the way he looks at you in bio. I swear he was drooling over you-"
"Yeah, because being viewed as a big hunk of OH, I don't know, FOOD, doesn't creep me out. Besides, he was probably just spacing. He hates bio, you know. Chem.'s more his thing, with the chemicals and stuff, that and trig are his strong points…"
I had to cut in at this point. Remember, this is the girl who, thirty seconds ago, was telling me that she didn't really like him that much. "Whoa. The utter stalker-ness of this situation is giving me the heebie-jeebies. As cute as Syrin may be, I don't honestly want to know what color boxers he wears or-"
"Red"
I shook my head. This stalker thing was cute when we were, like freshmen, not dang JUNIORS! I sighed and shook my head, trying to clear the thoughts of how, exactly, Jill figured out what color Syrin's boxers are. And shook it again. And again. By the time Jill stopped babbling about how underwear color can hint toward a boy's romantic-ness, she looked slightly confused.
"Mel, why exactly are you beating your head against the wall?"
I stifled another exasperated groan, and muttered, "boxers… picture… need… bleach for brain…"
Jill just chuckled again, and slung an arm around my shoulders. "Don't you go worrying yourself. I have my ways."
I quickly detangled myself from her arm, and practically ran away, reminding myself to put a lock on my underwear drawer when I got home.

"Sy! Earth to Syrin! Pshht, over!"
Syrin squirmed in his half-sleep, glancing up at the flesh colored blob that was calling his name over a "radio".
"gmrnnn liea, gweh" And he put his head back down.
Syrin yelped as an unlawfully cold hand grazed the back of his alabaster neck. "LIZAX!"
A distinctly masculine voice greeted that assumption with glee. "Told you he'd do that, Jex! You owe me… 10 bucks!"
Jex was outraged. "Never! We bet five, you b-"
He was cut short by a pale fist swiping the top layer of skin from his nose. "Shut UP!"
He did.
Syrin roused himself with a groan, glancing at his surroundings. Great. He'd fallen asleep at lunch, of all places. That was the end of those dang coffee chocolates, even though they were soooooooo good… "How long was I out," he asked, to the multitudes of teens surrounding him. "Did I miss her?"
He was suddenly wide awake, eyes wide as he realized that if he had, indeed missed Jill, he'd never be able to ask her to the dance. It was very important. Lives hung on the fact that he asked her, or so said his underwear drawer fairy.

Description
Jill giggled heartily at my suggestion for the dance. "You're not serious, right? I mean, I know I've liked him since, like, 5th grade, but really, I don't like him THAT much."
"But I think he likes you, too!"
She lost it at that. What was left of the soda in her mouth came spewing out of her nose at the thought of that suggestion, and she fell to her knees, struggling to regain her breath. "You really had me going there, Mer. Don't DO that!"
I just scoffed. "Obviously you haven't seen the way he looks at you in bio. I swear he was drooling over you-"
"Yeah, because being viewed as a big hunk of OH, I don't know, FOOD, doesn't creep me out. Besides, he was probably just spacing. He hates bio, you know. Chem.'s more his thing, with the chemicals and stuff, that and trig are his strong points…"
I had to cut in at this point. Remember, this is the girl who, thirty seconds ago, was telling me that she didn't really like him that much. "Whoa. The utter stalker-ness of this situation is giving me the heebie-jeebies. As cute as Syrin may be, I don't honestly want to know what color boxers he wears or-"
"Red"
I shook my head. This stalker thing was cute when we were, like freshmen, not dang JUNIORS! I sighed and shook my head, trying to clear the thoughts of how, exactly, Jill figured out what color Syrin's boxers are. And shook it again. And again. By the time Jill stopped babbling about how underwear color can hint toward a boy's romantic-ness, she looked slightly confused.
"Mel, why exactly are you beating your head against the wall?"
I stifled another exasperated groan, and muttered, "boxers… picture… need… bleach for brain…"
Jill just chuckled again, and slung an arm around my shoulders. "Don't you go worrying yourself. I have my ways."
I quickly detangled myself from her arm, and practically ran away, reminding myself to put a lock on my underwear drawer when I got home.

"Sy! Earth to Syrin! Pshht, over!"
Syrin squirmed in his half-sleep, glancing up at the flesh colored blob that was calling his name over a "radio".
"gmrnnn liea, gweh" And he put his head back down.
Syrin yelped as an unlawfully cold hand grazed the back of his alabaster neck. "LIZAX!"
A distinctly masculine voice greeted that assumption with glee. "Told you he'd do that, Jex! You owe me… 10 bucks!"
Jex was outraged. "Never! We bet five, you b-"
He was cut short by a pale fist swiping the top layer of skin from his nose. "Shut UP!"
He did.
Syrin roused himself with a groan, glancing at his surroundings. Great. He'd fallen asleep at lunch, of all places. That was the end of those dang coffee chocolates, even though they were soooooooo good… "How long was I out," he asked, to the multitudes of teens surrounding him. "Did I miss her?"
He was suddenly wide awake, eyes wide as he realized that if he had, indeed missed Jill, he'd never be able to ask her to the dance. It was very important. Lives hung on the fact that he asked her, or so said his underwear drawer fairy.