greasers

Soda

Tomorrow were the finals, and you were cramming in study time. The dining room table was covered in notebooks and textbooks. You invited Sodapop, your boyfriend, over to help you study but it was a big mistake. He kept making you laugh while he was asking you questions so you banished him to the living room. He wasn't the most patient person in the world, so he was getting antsy in there. He tried watching TV, he tried sleeping, but nothing caught his attention but you. And it was really bugging him that you weren't paying attention to him. Come to think, he was like a hyperactive gold retriever puppy. You were trying to refresh on the cycle of a new cell forming, but it was kind of hard when you heard Soda whining your name in the other room. You tried to block it out, but it was no use. Finally you slammed the book shut and got up, walking into the living room. Soda was bouncing up and down on the couch, saying your name over and over. "Soda, what do you want?" you ask, jutting out your hip and crossing your arms. "Claire, I want you to come here," he answers, mocking you. You roll your eyes and walk over to him. He looks up at you from the couch and grins. Before you know it, he's pulling you down onto the couch and tickling you. "Who's the best?" he asks. "Soda's the best!" you squeal. "Are you going to talk to me now instead of banishing me?" he asks, still tickling your side. "Yes!" "Prove it!" he commands. "Stop tickling me and I will!" He sits back and up and lets you catch your breath. He looks at you as he waits for you to prove that you'll stay instead of study. You bite your lip and then push him down onto the couch, straddling him. You push your hair behind your ears and then lean down to kiss him passionately. The kisses get heated and let's just say that you didn't study anymore that night.