kiss me i'm irish

Young Adam lives in his own stupid teenage world. When will he ever wake up and smell the pimple cream? And what is the truth behind all the lies about his fake irish girlfriend Moose?
Is Moose a real name anyway?

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12. Emily Harrison

She was wearing flowery overalls and a pink top--and also wearing a wooden smirk on her otherwise, happy smiley face.
Gena snorted. "You're serious?"
I looked down at my sneakers--humiliated for asking.
"You want to see who else is on the list?" She laughed--mirroring my grouchy frown.
"Well--obviously we don't work, do we?" I snarled, savagely. Gena's eyes dropped to the list in her hands.
"You're a jerk, thats why it didn't work." She snarled back.
"Do you want to have this argument, now?" I challenged, hotly.
"Of course not. I don't want to see you beaten again." Gena giggled. "But you have some nerve coming and asking me for help after the way you treated me last night."
"Well I'm sorry I'm not the Edward to your Bella or the Romeo to your Juliet."
Gena sniggered. "Shh!" She growled. "Just shut up!"
"Who's next?" I growled back.
Gena eyed me bitterly. "You're really serious?" She hissed.
"Yeah. I am." I held my ground, feeling my hands ball into fists.
"Fine." Gena sniggered. "Her name's Emily Harrison."
"Alright, is she pretty?"
Gena laughed, hard and fierce. "Are you joking? Is the pretty? Lord, you have nerve dude!"
Gena, just tell me."
"Yes. She's fine. No moles. No weird skin infections. No voice that sounds like you grandfather."
"Does she like chocolate? Sweets?"
"Why?"
"So I can buy her something."
"Who said she was going out with you? I just said she was next on the list. I never said she had agreed to anything."
"Well, you'll just ask her."
"Ah, no I won't."
"Why not?" I asked, firmly.
"Because. I never said I would."
"Well what am I supposed to do now, Gena? You're screwing me up!"
"Here's an idea," Gena pressed her finger to her chin dimple. "Ask. Her. Yourself. Like. Normal. Kids. Do."
I made a face. "So you're seriously not going to help me out?"
"NOT help you out? I've bought you like seven dates in the last month. Your so selfish. Why don't you stop being such a jerk and tell you lame ass friends that you've been lying all this time? No one likes you anyway. Those shrimp idiots don't believe you anyway. And if you don't then I'll just tell everyone you lied. Simple. You go down and I go back to not helping you. At. All, this time."
"No you won't!" I snapped. "Don't. This is my problem, Gena. Do not destroy my chance to be cool."
"So you'd break eight hearts for cool?"
"No, that's not that I'm doing . . ."
"So you'd destroy your chances with eight beautiful girls just to show of to your loser friends?"
"I--"
"So when you went out with me, did you actually give a damn?"
"Why are you being such a bitch?" I mocked.
Gena glared back at me woodenly--her angered expression did not shift.
My blood ran cold. Why did I have to say that?
She pulled her lips into a tight line and tossed the list into the wind.
"Stay cool, Adam."
She was gone into the celephane fog.

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