How to Steal a Happy Ending

•ten• And he doesn't care either.

I sprinted across the pavement, shoes in one hand and bag in the other. I only had one goal in mind and surprisingly it wasn't to go home.

I don't know what the teacher was on when she asked me to help Sara catch up with the portion. Just one look was enough to know that she was kind of girl that stood one step ahead of the portion. The kid was way smarter than me and all my presence did was annoy her. I was just a hindrance. But the whole thing wasn't absolutely pointless either.

I guess 'genius' is contagious because, by the end of our tutoring session, my brain had given birth to a brilliant idea. All I needed now was validation. So I scanned the school parking lot for it.

I heaved a sigh of relief when my eyes landed on a familiar black motorcycle. This indicated that he hadn't left yet. Tapping the headlight with my finger, I leaned against the door of an adjacent car to put my wedges back on. Tomorrow, I'm wearing flip-flops.

I yanked my rubber band out. My hair refused to fall victim to gravity and instead clumped together to form a arch still vaguely resembling a ponytail. Drawing two fingers through through it, I tousled my hair, using his side mirror to carefully arrange the freed strands of my hair into their designated locations.

Suddenly, I felt the whack of a rolled up book on my left shoulder. Rubbing the now stinging spot, I spun around to glare at the culprit. "That hurt," I informed him bitterly.

"Your breath is fogging up my mirror," James replied as he slid his gloves on, elbowing me out of the way.

I shoved him as hard as I could in return, but it turned out to be way less impactful than I had imagined it would be. Without so much as a jerk, he turned to smirk at me. I pouted, "You're not supposed to hit girls, okay?"

He let out a loud gasp, morphing his mouth into the shape of a perfect o. "Oh no, what ever shall I do now? I'm so sorry Clary but I beg of you, please don't tell anyone what I've done. I don't want the moral police to lock up up, I'm too pretty to go to jail," he wailed in mock anguish.

"Oh shut up. Can you try and act normal for like two seconds, I have something to tell you." And I want to do it before I get tempted to rip your head off instead.

He straightened his back and dusted some imaginary dirt off of his leather jacket. "Okay. I'm ready." I took a deep breath, getting ready to blow his mind. But just as I opened my mouth to begin, he slapped his hand over it, effectively shutting me up before I could even start."Your two seconds are up."

"nhur thu emmosur," I muffled through his smelly biker gloves.

He pressed his hand harder against my mouth while contrarily tipping his ear in my direction, "I'm sorry, what?"

I aimed a kick at his groin and missed (obviously, James was like the champion of crotch defending). But either way, he was distracted long enough for me to extract myself from his grip.

Once at a safe distance away from him, I crossed my arms and frowned. "You're so immature."

He ignored me and examined his hand instead. The black fabric of the glove now had a bright pink imprint on it. "How much lipstick do you wear?" He made a face and tried to scratch it off.

"It's lip gloss."

He sniffed his hand, "It smells good."

"Fine. Now listen," I whined.

He held his hand out to me, palm facing upwards."Give me some." Exasperated, I dug the tube out of my bag and more or less chucked it at him.

Unperturbed by my hostility, James calmly squirted a large blob onto his finger and applied it on his lips. He then wiped the rest off on my arm. Pursing his lips and bringing his blue eyes to a smoulder, he asked, "How do I look?"

I barely spared a glance. "Dumb. So about this thing I wanted to tell you-" James cut me off by leaning into my personal space.

His lips hovered inches away from mine, "But you would totally kiss me right?"

"Uhh-" While my heart decided to practice aerobics, I desperately racked my brains for something witty to say back. Sirens were blaring in my thought factory. Attention workers, we have a code red. I repeat we have a code red.

I gulped, "I don't know?"

The tiny, little people that run my mind halted mid-frenzy to slowly shake their heads at me.

Meanwhile, the boy in question just grinned, satisfied more by my reaction than my answer. James got on his bike. "I'll see you later, Clary."

"No wait!" I stepped in front of him, clutching the handle bars to prevent him from speeding away. "I have something to ask you."

"I'm not dropping you off because, you see, petrol prices are high." He replied sardonically.

I rolled my eyes, "Dude, get over it. That was like one day."

He held up his index finger at me, "No, that was Wednesday."

I groaned inwardly. I swear Jimmy gets offended by the stupidest things. "Okay your royal highness, I am incredibly sorry I didn't pick your precious ass up. Now can I tell you?"

He sniffed, "I accept the apology, peasant. Move so I can leave."

I narrowed my eyes into snake- like slits. "I am going to get a club with pointy spikes and beat you into the pavement."

He threw his head back in annoyance and let out an angsty growl. HE was annoyed. I snorted. So what did that make me? Medusa? "Alright, lets hear it."

"Right, so I have what could possibly be the best idea since sliced bread." I paused for dramatic effect but Jimmy's glare intensified so I had to cut it short. "I'm gonna pretend to be nice to Sara. You know, Vince's cousin. We'll be as thick as thieves- or so people will think. Isn't it just genius?" I squealed with a little bounce.

He nodded passively, "Is that it?"

My excitement flattered with my smile, "Yeah..."

"Alright then, move."

He kicked the stand out from under his bike and keyed the ignition, leaving me behind in the thin fog of exhaust fumes.

As he zipped down the road and out of sight, my ego slumped into the gravel and played dead. I pouted at it for a good couple of minutes before deciding that leftovers and orange juice would make me feel better.

~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-

A/N: So that turned out to be Claire's grand idea... Do you think it'll work? Especially, with their chilly attitude towards each other?

My friends are constantly asking to smell/use my lip balm (they'reguys and totally straight). And they waste so much of it, it's like wtf dude your lipsaren't the size of Antartica okay? Do you need lip balm application classes orsomething -_- But seriously, someone should invest in creating a brand just formen; they get chapped lips too.