I hate love stories. Any novel or book that starts with "I hate love stories" I shrug off and mumble "bullshit." I hate the fake love scene where they obsess over this "Perfect guy" and always screamed about how the girl was smart and pretty, but what I hate more was the stories that pretended they weren't such bullshit.
You see these romance stories all the time, he saw her and she saw him and it was perfect. He was handsome she was beautiful and everyone thought they were perfect. She was scared, but he new what to say because the world is perfect like that.

I'm calling Bullshit.


4. Fuck.


One word kept running in my head. Fuck. What the fuck? Why the fuck? I don't want to fuck. There was a long awkward pause between us as the bus rambled past the rolling hills. I was shocked to hear my own voice break the silence "Like I said, I'd get too attached."

"No you won't." His voice sounded more hopeful than convincing.

I felt my jaw clenched before I hissed at him, "Why don't you just go sleep with your girlfriend." it was less of a question and more of an order to get off the subject.

Jacob stared down at his hands again, "She won't. We haven't done anything in three months."

"'Cause she wants to wait?" I knew I was right before he nodded his head. "You're sick." I snapped after he answered.

He looked up with those dark puppy dog eyes again, "She wants to wait until were married. I'm kind of worried because lack of sex can give a guy a heart attack."

I cross my arms across my chest before spitting back "Bullshit."

His brown eyes grew wide, "No, no it's true and it really hurts after a while."

"Then do it yourself." I wasn't going to to be one of those girls who steals boyfriends. I really didn't want to be one of those toys a guy uses when he gets bored of his girlfriend. Fuck. That. Did I look like one of those girls who did do that? Did I seem like a slut?

My mind was rushing with "Why me?" questions, but I found myself getting stuck on the word "slut." Finally, the question slipped, "Why didn't you ask the easier girls in school?"

Jacob let out a heavy sigh, "because I knew you wouldn't say anything. You're really nice like that."

Before I could even respond to him the bus stopped in front of a church and Mrs. Con stood up and announced where to go, what to do, and the constant reminder to be respectful. "We are representing Lincoln, so behave yourselves." She waved her hand at us which was our cue to get up and get in the church.


As we marched like little red soldiers, Jacob followed close behind me. The church was filled with robed students. There was Brandon with black robes and red trim, O'Gorman with blue robes and white trim, and Roosevelt with green robes and yellow trim. Or was it Roosevelt who had black robes? Either way every high school choir was here with the exception of Washington and New Tech. Washington would sing later in the evening, but I'm not sure if New Tech even had a choir yet.

A few friends wave at me from Roosevelt as we sat down in the wooden benches. The church was beautiful, but not as flashy as the Catholic churches. It had a big wooden cross on the wall with beautiful candles everywhere, and there was one large stain glass window of a man plowing in the field with a hoe. I think it's for Elijah, an important man from the bible, but he had an ox plow not a hoe.

Soon, the first choir starts singing. Slowly a few students began to dose off while others catch every slide, squeak, and count how many girls touch their hair. Despite boredom slowly rotting my brain, it was nice to be out of school, and at least Jacob couldn't talk to me about the stupid one night stand. Moments later Jacob sets a confession slip on my lap with I'll make it worth your while. scribbled on the back. This kid just doesn't give up.

I roll my eyes at him, and he just gives me a crooked smile. I write on it with a pencil from the back of the bench, I have a boyfriend. I'm not exactly in to cheating like you. Honestly, if you're going to have a group of teenagers at your church take away the pencils. I set the slip on his lap as I count the 8th girl to touch her hair during a song.

After reading the blue piece of paper he gave me a weird look. I don't blame him for not knowing. My boyfriend Dakota lives in Aberdeen which is a good three hour drive from here. I met him at church camp four years ago, and we've been talking ever since. Long distance isn't as hard as people think it is, but it does get lonely.

Jacob handed me the card back. Who? and it's not cheating.

I scribble on the card after the judges gave their critiques. 12 girls touched their hair so no doubt they addressed it. Dakota, and if I asked her if she's ok with you having sex with another girl what would she say?

All Jacob wrote was Please don't say anything.

I honestly wouldn't say anything to her. It's not exactly my problem, and if they're having issues. I don't want to be pulled into it. I scribbled That's cheating. and handed him back the card.

Jacob wrote back I'm really good at it. You won't be disappointed.


Just pretend I'm Dakota. What the hell?

I gave him a are-you-fucking-serious look and scribbled WTF no.

Please, you're really beautiful.

This is going to be the longest contest I've ever been to. No. I wrote No. I don't want to have pointless sex.

It won't be.


Because I really like you.

By this point I was convinced he'd say anything to get laid at the moment. You love your girl friend right?


Than why the hell are you asking me this shit? I could feel the bitch coming out of me. I went to a middle school known as Axtell when I was young and I found myself cussing the hell out of anyone who pissed me off. Axtell was known as "crackstell" because it was filled with burn outs and littered with drugs and whorish 13 year olds. After three years in Axtell it was easy for me to tear people down.

Idk. I guess I just really like you, but I want to stay with my girlfriend. So, I thought having a one night stand would help me get over it.

How the hell does that help?

You got to build something up to tear it down.

No. If you want something to go away you lock it up and let it die. You don't reinforce a building you're going to demolish.

Good point.

No shit. Besides, I don't want to be something you just fucking use like that. That just hurts people you know.

Don't worry you'd be like a phoenix rising from the ashes. This kid made me want to slam my head against the wall. It's not like a phoenix being reborn. When you're used up and thrown away you don't rise up and feel perfectly renewed; you're beaten down, destroyed, and thrown like a piece of trash. Being used up, or having a horrible break-up isn't like a phoenix at all. It's like a burn victim crawling out of the rubble.

For some reason I couldn't write that. I couldn't sit there and tell him how horrible it really is. It was like stopping yourself before telling a child Santa Clause isn't real. What ever kept him thinking people aren't completely destroyed wasn't something I was ready to shatter. Thankfully Mrs. Con gave the hand sign to rise. Jacob snagged the card from me and ripped it up before we all marched into the practice room.

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