Film Club : Series

"Do you realize that you poured hair dye into the automatic tea maker?" he asked me flatly, already suspecting what the answer was going to be.

"Was that what that was? I thought it was used to make hair dye," I said lightly, examining my fake nails.

"Oh, you are such a bloody liar! I told you three times that it was tea maker, because you kept asking if it was a coffee maker!" another person blurted out.

"I’m not a liar! I'm just good at improvising!" I exclaimed, shortly shaking my head to toss my hair about as I gave him haughty look. Almost immediately the hairstylist descended upon me, beginning to primp my hair for the fifth time in the last fifteen minutes. “Ugh! Would you knock it off already?! I told you that I hate people touching my hair!” I exclaimed, attempting to swat his hands away.

“I’ll stop touching up your hair when you stop messing it up!” he exclaimed in reply, jabbing his comb at my hands.

“Remind me again why I have to do this. Why can’t she do it?” I asked, pointing at the girl whom had called me a liar.

“Her hair isn’t as long as yours,” stated the bastard that was running the show.

“That’s what wigs were invented for,” I said flatly.

“Hello, no. I won’t work with wigs. I refuse. I assumed you would have realized that when we said you had to dye your hair,” said the stylist, sounding awfully offended by my suggestion that a wig be used.

“What about extensions? Certainly you can’t have anything against those,” I grunted, sliding him an annoyed look as he continued primping my hair.

“Hell no. I don’t do extensions. I refuse,” stated the bitch.

“I still don’t see why it has to be me. I’m not even part of this stupid club,”  I said.

“The Film Club and the Drama Club are affiliates and have a mutual agreement that both will assist the other as much as is absolutely necessary for the survival of the acting arts within this school,” stated the director or producer or whatever he fancied himself as, “In other words, your club lends us props, wardrobes, and actors as often as we need them for our film productions, and we lend you lighting equipment, our hairstylist, and our make-up artist as often as you need them for your on stage performances.”

“Once again, I don’t see why it needs to be me. I’m only in the goddamn Drama Club because the cops, the school, and my parents all think I’ll mellow out and be less violent if I’m prancing around on stage a couple hours a day,” I grunted.

“Considering the fact that neither you nor any of your fellow hooligans have gotten in an altercation since the lot of you were removed from the Tennis Club and forced into the Drama Club, I’d say they had the right thinking,” Bitchzilla, the female, commented coolly.

“I’ve also noticed that none of you have been wearing skirts to school to get out of school since you were forced to change your club affiliation,” Jerkwad, the director, added thoughtfully.

“How would you even notice such a fact?” I asked flatly.

“Who? Me or him?” Bitchzilla asked.

I looked between them, shrugged, and then gestured to the both of them. “Both of you. Either of you. I don‘t care,” I said, just in case they were too dense to understand hand gestures.

“Well, actually, those two facts are linked, seeing as you guys wore skirts to get sent home so that you could go raise all Hell. So just noticing that you guys stopped showing up to school in tennis skirts makes it noticeable that you stopped getting sent home and thereby stopped getting in trouble; and the same goes for the other way around,” Jerkwad said, “At any rate, I noticed the lack of skirts because I was actually musing the idea of using male tennis players in the attire of female tennis players in a screenplay.”

By the end of his little explanation, I was paying absolutely no attention whatsoever. “Are you done groping my hair yet?!” I demanded, returning to swatting at the hairstylist.

“It’s not groping, it’s grooming!” he exclaimed indignantly, once more jabbing at my hands with his comb, turning it into a deadly weapon. Not that he had to work very hard to do that. He already wielded the damn thing like a weapon as it was, striking pain into every hair on my head whenever he ripped the comb down through it.

“It’s molesting, what with how you seem to be getting off on it! Stop touching it already, you freakin’ perv!” I shouted, refusing to back down this time around.

“Alright, Yup, that’s enough. His hair looks lovely,” Jerkwad said, making a little hand motion for the nitpicky bastard to leave me be. The hairstylist retreated, but not without jabbing me one final time with his comb. Figuring that messing up his hair would be my best bet at upsetting him, I went to yank his hair in retaliation, but Jerkwad grabbed my wrist and jerked me around by it to halt my assault. “You don’t want to touch his hair. Ever,” he warned me flatly.

“I think I can handle myself in a fight with a hairstylist, thank you very little,” I replied, ripping my wrist out of his hand.

“Evvlyn, tell our lovely guest what Yup did to Jaalyn when she pulled his hair to piss him off that one time,” Jerkwad said to the make-up artist, who happened to be Bitchzilla’s brother.

“I’d rather not retell such violence,” Evvlyn mumbled, fidgeting with a lock of hair as he slid a look in Yup’s direction.

“There. See? It was just that bad,” Jerkwad said, turning his attention back to me.

“Whatever. Can we just get on with this?” I grunted.

“We can’t yet. Our camera operators and lighting technician still haven’t turned up,” he replied.

“Probably they decided to spend lunch break making personal porn videos and lost track of the time,” Jaalyn grumbled, speaking mostly to herself.

“Again,” Evvlyn added.

“They better not be. They promised to let me help the next time they did one of those. You know, they’ll look twice as good in those once I’m taking care of their hair,” Yup said lightly.

“I wouldn’t know. I’ve never watched any of their porno, since I‘m not into threesomes,” Jerkwad said.

“Some of them are only twosomes,” Evvlyn mentioned for I don‘t know what reason. The only thing that was stopping me from ripping my hair out in frustration over this conversation was the fact that Yup would again swoop in and start styling my hair once more.



I reached my hand out towards him, but hesitated, thinking better of making physical contact. Slowly I withdrew my hand, my fingers curling and forming a fist as frustration and pain slowly coursed through my body like the blood in my veins. “May I ask you just one thing?” I asked, the faintest glimmer of tears shining in my eyes.

“You may ask me anything you wish,” he said softly, sliding me a look from the corner of his eyes.

“…Are you fucking done yet?! Because my head is raw now! I‘m going to start bleeding from the scalp if you keep fucking brushing my hair!” I blurted out, whirling around to glare at Yup, who was tending to my hair for now the hundredth time. I’m not exaggerating, either. I had counted. This was exactly the one hundredth time that he had decided my hair needed touching up.

“That’s not the line! The line is “Will you miss me when I’m gone?”, to which Terrir’s character will reply “No, because I’ll be coming with you”! Please, even if this only practice, you need to get the lines right!” Jerkwad declared, jumping up from his director’s chair.

“How am I supposed to get the line right when this picky prick keeps coming over and yanking my hair with his stupid comb and stuff?! It hurts, you know, you jerk!” I shouted, turning my teary-eyed glare on Jerkwad now. I must admit, I was only still calling him names because I forgot his actual name, and everybody else had yet to address him by anything other than “director”.

Having grown as bored as I was frustrated, Terrir released a sigh as he ran a hand through his hair and looked around for something to occupy his time while the director and I argued. Of course, this course of action caused Yup to immediately abandon my hair and go to primp Terrir‘s hair. “There! Terrir! Can you say the lines correctly with that damn perfectionist yanking at your hair?!” I demanded.

“Yes. Of course, it’s not such a problem for me. Since my hair is relatively short, it’s harder to yank it unintentionally,” he replied lightly. Damnit.

Jerkwad sighed, putting his hand to his forehead as he fell back into his seat. “Alright. Yup, that’s enough. Henceforth, please restrain yourself from touching Istvan’s hair without my orders,” he said, doing that little gesture he always did to make the stupid stylist leave me alone.

“Pussyhead,” Yup grumbled as he swiftly retreated.

“Alright, that is it! I am going to kick the ever-loving crap out of you!” I shouted, lunging at the older boy. Unfortunately, Terrir was swift to restrain me, hooking his arms around mine from behind to hold me back.

“Oh, let him go, Terrir! I want to put him in his place!” Yup exclaimed, putting his styling tools aside and putting up his dukes.

“This is the Film Club, not the Fight Club! There will be no kicking the ever-loving crap out of anyone! Not unless it’s for the filming of a scene, and even then it should only be fake fighting!” Jerkwad declared as he again rose from his chair. Nobody else bothered to get off of their asses, as they all wanted to see where this was going to go.

“Maybe we should ask the Drama Club to lend us a different leading lady,” Marigold suggested. She was one of the three females in the club, the others being Jaalyn and the lighting technician, Femma, and one of the two camera operators, the other one being my acting partner, Terrir. Yes, the porno threesome had shown up, yet we still hadn’t moved on to the actual filming of scenes, which only added on to the frustration I felt.

“No! If just anyone would do, I would have used one of you girls for the part! The one I want is Istvan!” Jerkwad declared. Judging by the fact that I wasn’t the only one who was now gaping at him, it probably wasn’t normal for him to phrase things quite that way. Realizing that he had perhaps misspoken, the director now cleared his throat as he reclaimed his seat. “That is to say, Istvan has the perfect complexion, the perfect physique, and almost the perfect tresses for the role. He nearly exactly matches the image I have in mind,” he repeated and rephrased his prior declarations.

I just rolled my eyes, relaxing against the arms restraining me so that Terrir would release me. This was so stupid. I didn’t want to act in a play, let alone in a film. Whether or not I was physically perfect for the role, personality wise I was nowhere near what this loon was looking for. Why was he not smart enough to see that, even after being smartened up by his stupid crew, I wasn’t suitable for this?

“Alright, let’s take it from the top,” Jerkwad said now, having taken the lack of replies to mean that we all agreed with him and were willing to continue.

“Let’s not and say we did,” I said with a sigh as Terrir only now released me.

“Look at it this way: it’s either this, or you get busted into the Homework Club for a week,” Femma offered up, also offering up a smile.

“I’d rather the Homework Club than this club. Unfortunately, that isn’t an option, since all of us that got forced into the Drama Club were banned from the Homework Club. We all racked up over a hundred hours in there already. Why do you think they had to resort to such a drastic measure as forcing us to switch the club we were actually registered members of?” I grunted.

“That‘s good to hear; because I wouldn’t give you the option of skipping out on this, even if the school would,” Jerkwad stated flatly.

“Oh, wow, I didn’t realize you guys had caused that much trouble. I don’t think I’ve ever heard of even a single student getting so much time in the Homework Club that they were banned from that being used as a punishment for them—let alone a whole group, all of which are from the same club,” Femma said, the smile gone from her face as she stared at me with something akin to awe.

“Can we please get back to practicing the scene? I would like to get as least one scene filmed today, and we cannot do that until I’m positive Istvan has his lines down pat,” Jerkwad said, running a flat gaze across all of the faces in the room.

“If I promise I have it memorized, can we just film the scene real quick so that we can be finished with this?” I groaned.

“We’re not rushing through this! Not through this scene, or any other part of this movie! This isn’t just some quick flick for fun! This is our project for the school carnival! This is how our club is going to make enough funds to prove to the school that we’re worth keeping open! Do you have any idea how expensive our club is?! While it may not be anywhere near as large as the Drama Club, we’re only slightly under them in expenditure! We must show that we are worth it—no, that we are more than worth it—if we don‘t want them reducing our budget due to our low number of members!” he exclaimed, fixing his gaze solely on me.

Inwardly I cringed, but all I did outwardly was scowl. I hadn’t even realized that this movie we were filming was their project for the carnival. Now I felt kind of bad about ragging on them all and dragging this out in the hopes that they’d give up on me. However, the fact that I didn’t feel bad about bitching about the bitchy hairstylist kept me from apologizing. So, without replying, I took a breath to calm myself, wiped the emotion from my face, and then brought false emotion to my expression.

After waiting a moment for Terrir to get back into position and into character, I bit the inside of my cheek not quite hard enough to draw blood but just hard enough to bring tears to my eyes. “May I ask you just one thing?” I asked, the faintest glimmer of tears shining in my eyes.

“You may ask me anything you wish,” he said softly, sliding me a look from the corner of his eyes.

“Will you miss me when I’m gone?” I barely whispered the question, very briefly batting my eyelashes just once to force a single tear to streak down my cheek.

Terrir turned to me now, reaching his hand up and allowing one of his fingertips to just barely brush against my skin, removing both the tear and the tearstain. “No…because I’ll be coming with you,” he stated. I exhaled my breath shortly so that I could inhale sharply, my breath audibly catching in my throat as his hand fell away from my face and he leaned in for a kiss. An instant before our lips touched, we were cut short.

“Cut! Discontinue! Stop! Cease! Halt! Desist! Abstain! Terminate! Withdraw! End!” Jerkwad screamed out anything and everything he could think of to bring the practice scene to an abrupt end.

Everyone looked over at him now, though Terrir didn’t withdraw from the temporarily suspended kiss. “What’s wrong? Was I leaning in too fast?” he asked.

“Your movement looked fine from where I’m standing,” Femma stated.

“You’re fine, Terrir! Istvan, there’s blood at the corner of your mouth! What happened?! Are you alright?!” Jerkwad exclaimed as he now swiftly stood and strode over. My acting partner only now pulled back as the director reached to take my face into his hands, but I cut his hands off as I reached up to wipe the blood away.

“Oh, sorry. I didn’t think I bit that hard,” I said, rubbing the inside of my cheek with my tongue as I rubbed the outside of my cheek with my hand.

“Bit?” Jerkwad asked, looking confused. Actually, everyone was looking confused.

“Duh. I bit my cheek. That’s how I got all those tears in my eyes, yes?” I said, rolling my eyes as I now reached up to wipe said tears away.

“What?! You idiot! You don’t have to hurt yourself to induce tears! If you can’t cry on cue without hurting yourself, then we’ll just do the scene twice! Once with you not crying, once with eye drops being used as fake tears, and then we edit them together so it looks like you actually did get all teary-eyed!” he exclaimed, sounding just a bit pissed.

“Why go through all that trouble when I can just bite my cheek like I just did? Seriously, maybe the reason your club costs so much is because you do shit like that when there’s a much simpler, cheaper alternative,” I grunted, “And don’t blame the blood. That’s no biggie. I just didn’t swallow because I didn’t realize there was any blood. When we shoot the scene for real, I’ll be sure to swallow.”

“It is a biggie! We don’t want any of our crew or actors being hurt during the production of our films!” he shouted, now sounding very pissed.

Again I rolled my eyes, this time as I crossed my arms across my chest. “Please, I was not hurt. I used to get in seriously crazy brawls on practically a daily basis. As a matter of fact, biting my cheek to induce tears was one of my tricks for those brawls. Since I’m so small and all, my opponent would always hesitate at the sight of tears, and that would give me enough time to get back up on my feet and kick their asses,” I stated with no small amount of arrogance.

Jerkwad suddenly grabbed me by the upper arm, gripping hard as he pulled me closer to him in an attempt to be more intimidating. “This isn’t a fight. This is a film. And I will not allow anyone who is a participant in the production come to harm, even if it is self-induced,” he stated sternly.

Unfortunately for him, I wasn’t that easy to intimidate. I now leaned in and up, getting right in his face. “If you don’t let me go this instant, this is going to become a fight quite shortly. Also, I may be forced to participate as an actor, but you can’t force me to act in a particular way,” I all but growled the words.

He didn’t reply right away, accepting my challenge to a glaring contest as we quite literally—albeit lightly—butted heads. Then, all at once, he pulled back and turned around. “Alright, let’s call it a day! We’ll start the actual filming tomorrow!” he declared.

“I thought you wanted to get at least one scene in today?” Jaalyn asked.

“I refuse to film any scenes in which one of my actors has to work while wounded,” he stated.

“What?! It’s just a little bite in my cheek! You’re being ridiculous! You’re over-reacting!” I blurted out.

“No. I am making a statement; and that statement is that I am the director. I call the shots. I have the final say. And I say that I will not allow you to film a single scene while you are wounded,” he stated flatly as he walked away, “You had just better hope that you’re fully recovered by tomorrow. It would be both a pain and a shame to have to postpone the production even longer.” With that he left, leaving me to stand there as everyone else in the room glared at me. They probably would have done more than merely glare death in my direction, but they didn’t want the director to have even more cause to postpone the filming.



“Where is everyone else?” I asked, glancing around as I entered the Film Club’s lair—er, I mean, their studio.

Jerkwad, the only person present, glanced up from the script he was re-reading as he sat in his director‘s chair. “They don’t need to come if we aren’t going to do any work on the production today,” he stated before allowing his gaze to return to the script.

“What? What do you mean we’re not doing any work on it? My cheek is fine, damnit, you jerk,” I said, scowling as I stomped over. I stopped in front of him, standing there and glaring down at him.

As his gaze rose to meet mine again, he rose from his seat, dropping the script into his vacant chair. “Is that so?” he asked. He reached up and grabbed my face in his hand, being sure to put pressure on both of my cheeks to check and see if I would flinch. I didn’t. We just stood there for that like a moment, both of us waiting for the other to admit defeat and withdraw. When neither of us did any such thing, I decided to speak, knowing that I was the winner but that he wouldn’t admit he was the loser.

The instant I opened my mouth, he swiftly moved in for a kiss. I didn’t realize what he was doing until his lips were already to mine—and I didn’t realize what he was really doing until his tongue was touching my cheeks from the inside, testing for any tenderness or the taste of blood. Upon receiving no negative reaction, he broke off the kiss, pulling back both his head and his hand. “I suppose that is so,” he stated now.

“You couldn’t have just checked with a finger?” I asked flatly, giving him a stare as flat as my words.

“Would you have been fine with me sticking my finger in your mouth?” he asked curiously, arching an eyebrow at me.

“I would prefer it to your tongue,” I replied.

“You know, I was sort of expecting you to beat me bloody for kissing you,” he said.

“Why? Because you’re a guy?” I asked, now being the one to arch an eyebrow at him.

He shrugged and then nodded. “Yeah, that, too,” he said, “I more meant because I didn’t ask permission first, though.”

“Well, you being a guy doesn’t make any difference to me. A kiss isn’t worth killing over, though. Not when it would mean having to postpone production even longer, at any rate. Under normal circumstances, however, I probably would at least punch you. Actually, you’re too tall for me to punch in the face—which is where I think you deserve to be hit for stealing a kiss—so I’d likely kick you in the nads,” I said, perhaps being a little too thoughtful about this.

“In the nads, huh? How hard would you kick? Though, I suppose even a kick that isn’t very hard would still hurt like Hell… Anyhow, how many kisses can I steal, then, before you get mad enough to hurt me?” he asked, now being the one who was being a little too thoughtful about this subject of conversation.

Again I arched an eyebrow at him, though this time it was less with curiosity and more with worry. “Why would you ask that? You planning on kissing me during every crying scene to check my cheeks?” I asked suspiciously.

“…May I make a confession?” he asked after a pause for thought.

“Be my guest. What is it? Are you going to confess that you have a secret fetish about people kicking you in the nads?” I asked. It wasn’t a serious question, of course. Or, well, not entirely serious. You never could tell with these show business weirdos.

“It’s not that kind of confession. It’s a love confession,” he stated.

“Are you sure you don’t secretly have a gonads-being-kicked fetish?” I asked. This time the question was entirely serious, because he could not be serious. Seriously, what kind of psycho would make a love confession to somebody who just said they would beat the tar out of them if it wouldn’t be inconvenient?

He sighed, putting his hands on my shoulders now as though this would somehow make me less skeptical. “Istvan, I’m not joking. This is a sincere, heartfelt confession. I really, really like you. And not in a platonic way, either,”  he stated, sounding and appearing as serious as he possibly could.

“You know, there is this really popular saying nowadays. I don’t know if you’ve heard it before, but it goes: “I love you” is eight letters, and so is “bullshit”. Have you ever heard that one?” I asked flatly. Clearly, I really didn’t like him saying he really liked me.

“I’m not bullshitting you, Istvan. You know when I interrupted Terrir and you in scene practice yesterday? You know how I made it out like it was because I’d noticed the blood? That was bullshit. I didn’t even see the blood until you looked over at me. Then I just used that as an excuse so that you two couldn’t practice the kissing part of the scene. While I really do feel very strongly about keeping all of my crew and actors safe during the making of our movies, you were correct in saying that I was over-reacting,” he said, still acting utterly seriously.

There was nothing for a moment now. We both just stood there, intensely staring at and intently waiting on one another. As it finally registered that he was for real, I jerked away from him without warning. “I don’t—What do you want me to do? How am I supposed to respond when you just suddenly confess out of the blue? What’s it matter to me if you like me or not? Why should I have to care just because you care?” I asked in a way that was not quite demanding and almost accusing.

“…This isn’t the movies. I know that. I don’t expect you to just suddenly come to love me in a split second. I don’t even expect you to come to like me all that quickly. I just want you to give me a chance,” he replied softly.

“What if I don’t want to give you a chance?!” I demanded, “I don’t want all of the stupid drama that comes with being in a relationship! I don’t even want all of the drama that comes from being in the Drama Club! Why would I ever even consider giving you a chance?!”

“Well, I could say that you should consider it because I could very well make your life a living Hell,” he stated simply. Immediately I went to respond—or, more specifically, I went to cuss him out and threaten him for threatening me. However, he continued speaking before I could say anything. “However, not only are you not the sort of person that would give in to pressure and threats, but I’m not the sort of person that would do something of that sort. Especially not to a person I love,” he said.

He paused now, waiting to allow me a chance to respond this time. However, I no longer had a reply. I didn’t even know how to begin to reply to that, honestly. Seeing that I had nothing to say, he continued. “The only reason I could give that could give you reason enough to give me a chance, is that you might found out you were missing out on something great without even knowing it,” he said softly.

There was a pause again as he awaited a response, though it was clear that he had nothing further to say even if I had nothing to reply with. Oddly enough, I was able to think of a reply right away. I looked away from him, reaching up to rub one of my shoulders where he his hand had been before. “…You have to promise not to over-react when you’re jealous. Actually, you have to promise not to be overly jealous, too. And, while you’re at it, you have to promise not to be over-protective, overdramatic, or overly anything else,” I stated softly.

Instantly he had moved over to me, putting one hand over my own on my shoulder as he used the other to cup my chin and turn my face to him. “Am I allowed to be overly-affectionate?” he asked, smiling at me sweetly.

“…Well, as long as no one else is around to see it…” I mumbled, trying not to feel overly-embarrassed.

“In that case, we’ll all leave,” Yup said suddenly. I immediately ripped my chin from Jerkwad’s grasp, looking over to where that damn hairstylist’s voice had come from. Everyone whom I had thought wasn’t present now came out from various hiding places throughout the room. As if that alone was not horrifying enough. Marigold and Terrir, the camera operators, both were armed with cameras which appeared to very much be rolling.

“You said that nobody else was here!” I shouted, turning my gaze and fury back to Jerkwad.

“Actually, he said we don’t need to come if the club isn’t going to be working on the production today,” Jaalyn corrected me.

“We all did still come today, though, because we wanted to be here to support Jerald in the case that you rejected him,” Evvlyn added in.

I went to shout at them, too, but stopped before I even started as a thought struck me. “…Your name is Jerald?” I asked curiously, looking at Jerkwad. Finally, I knew his name!

“…You…didn’t know? Don’t you remember me introducing myself to you…?” he asked, looking nothing less than completely stunned and even seeming a tad upset.

“I wasn’t paying any attention when any of you were introduced to me,” I stated simply.

“Does that mean that you don’t know any of the rest of our names?” Femma asked, arching an eyebrow at me curiously.

“Oh, no, I know everyone’s name now. You all addressed each other by name at least once already yesterday. It’s just that nobody called him by his name, so I never got the chance to catch it after he introduced himself,” I said.

“Wait a minute, if you didn’t know his name until just now, what have you been referring to him by in your mind?” Yup asked.

“Jerkwad,” I stated simply. There was a pause as everyone registered that, and then pretty much everyone, excluding Jerald and myself, burst into laughter.

“Ahaha! That’s great! I am so putting that in a script someday!” Jaalyn declared.

“Oh! Oh! Mari, Terri, did you get that?!” Femma asked through her laugher and with a wide smile on her face.

“I got Istvan’s expression when he said that,” Marigold replied with a smile of her own.

“I got Jerald’s expression when he heard that,” Terrir replied through laughter of his own.

“Is there any particular reason why you guys are still recording, or why you’re even still around?” Jerald demanded, obviously not enjoying this.

“Oh, hey, Director Jerkwad, what are we going to do about the movie now, since you obviously won’t want me using my amazing kissing skills on your boyfriend?” Terrir asked.

“If you want to keep the use of the parts and equipment that allow you to film porno, you will get out of my sight right this instant, Terrir,” Jerald growled, “And I am not talking about camera parts or lighting equipment.” Terrir was the quickest to flee the scene, although everyone else did immediately move to leave as well.

Now that we were finally and actually alone, I spoke up. “It’s not like I was calling you names without reason! You really are a jerkwad sometimes, you know!” I exclaimed even though he hadn’t directed his annoyance at me.

“Just drop it. And don’t ever refer to me by that name again, even if it’s only in your mind,” he said flatly.

“You’re being overly-sensitive,” I said.

“Well, how would you like it if I was calling you Goldilocks in my mind all the time?” he asked, sounding none too happy.

“I’d maim you. Since you would never do that because you supposedly like me, though, that doesn’t really matter,” I said lightly.

“Don’t say “supposedly” like that. I do like you. Really, definitely, unquestionably, incontestably, truly, honestly, sincerely, deeply, utterly, completely, absolutely, infinitely, endlessly, ceaselessly, unconditionally, openly, explicitly, unambiguously, undeniably—” he started stating anything and everything he could think of to dissipate my doubt about his feelings.

“I get it! You love me! Shut up already!” I exclaimed, slapping my hand over his mouth to silence him. As most people tended to do in such a situation, he licked my palm, making me swiftly remove my hand as I went to swear at him. I didn’t manage to get a word out before he’d pressed his lips to mine and slipped his tongue into my mouth. As it were, his method for silencing me was a lot more effective than my method for silencing him. I lost my desire to cuss, now feeling and giving in to the desire to return the kiss.

Maybe he really wasn’t bullshitting me about loving me. And maybe he really was telling the truth when he said that I had been missing out on something without knowing it. Good thing I decided to take a risk and find out whether that something was a good thing or not. I guess I had needed a little more drama in my life, anyway, to make up for all the drama lost due to my recent lack of fighting.