You know how everyone, regardless of how ugly they are physically or personality wise, has that one person that is obsessed with them? That one individual that would walk on hot coal just to make you happy? That one individual that constantly slips love notes inside your locker when you're not looking because they think it's hella romantic despite the cringeness of it all?

Ladies and gentlemen, meet Leslie Jenkins, my not so secret admirer. I hate alot of things, but nothing could come close to my hatred towards Leslie Jenkins. She's a close call between paper cuts and elevator music. I can tolerate alot of pet peeves shoved my way but I won't hesitate to draw the line when it comes to that girl. Maybe she's the reason why I stopped liking the idea of dating someone in my age group. Can you blame me though? The girl dips fried chicken inside her coca cola drink and slurps it! I mean who does that?!

If I ever had to choose between Leslie Jenkins and Charli Dawson to get stuck with me in a deserted island, I'm sorry but I'm going with Charli Dawson. And that's saying something seeing as I can't stand Zac's sister. But I can't stand Leslie Jenkins more.

The reason I brought Leslie Jenkins up is because Mr. Stephenson, our chemistry teacher who owns the largest pot belly my eyes have ever been subjected to and an unattractive goatee that framed his chapped pouty lips , thought it would be fantastic to pair me up with Leslie as my lab partner for chemistry. Something tells me he's still mad at me for breaking that boiling tube during that one chemistry practical. Or was it that time I dared Evans Smith to drink Hydrochloric acid after convincing him that it was Vodka. Or was it when I dropped a huge chunk of potassium inside a beaker filled with water and it almost exploded thanks to the volatile nature of potassium metal.

Honestly, I've done alot of things to warrant his negative emotions towards me but that doesn't give him the right to pair me up with the world's most annoying human being ever! It's times like this that I wish I could just drop out of school and work for my father in his multimillion dollar company which I'm certain is build from fraud and discrepancy. As much as father is a business tycoon, he gets his hands dirty to achieve so much. But let me not delve into my father's insincere dealings.

" Isn't this exciting?" That impossibly high pitched voice produced by Leslie's vocal cords pierced my ears in a rather painful sting as she asked. Her shoulder bumps against mine as she slides her wooden stool closer to me.

" What is?" A flat voice, completely uninterested in her small talk.

" Us. Working together, side by side, holding hands -"

" What?!"

" All I'm saying is that from now on, you and I are practically dating," Her face inches closer to mine, her damp breathe colliding with mine and I get a whiff of popcorn butter and pimple cream from her.

" We are not dating," I inform through gritted teeth before reaching for my safety goggles and fixing them on my face.

" Not with that attitude, we're not," Leslie remarks, following my actions and pulling the safety goggles to her face. " Besides, it's not like you're seeing anyone. I'm single, just like you." Her slender index finger finds its way on my chest and stabs me with it as she  punctuated her words.

" I wouldn't date you even if you were the last creature living in my world," I say, gingerly prying her finger off my body.

" Playing hard to get won't stop me from chasing you,"

" Even if I told you that I'm taken?" I asked, squinting my eyes at her.

" You're not taken!"

Her reaction brought an ingenuous idea flickering inside my brain. Would she finally give me some peace if I lied to her that I was involved with someone romantically? Would she finally give me a moment's peace? Those amber eyes had widened to near golf balls , her face, the perfect testimony of her disdain to the idea of me seeing someone who isn't her. Maybe if I lied.....

" Hate to break it to you, angel," my lips twitched in a smirk. " But I am seeing someone. She's prettier than you and is the love of my life." Just saying that made me want to barf. Such dialogues made me sick at how cheesy they sounded. So ridiculous.

" Oh yeah?" She scoffed. " Who is this mythical girlfriend of yours, if she does exist."

" She's not mythical, she's real," about as real as a unicorn shooting rainbows through its butthole.

" Then who is she?"

I regretted the name that came out of my mouth as I answered that question. I don't know that many girls in our school, many of them never tolerated the idea of me or being around me , some referred to me as a jerk or a freak or a creep. Safe to say, neither one of them liked me. I couldn't care nonetheless. The only woman I cared for was Amanda. Her opinion on me is what matters most to me.

I could've mentioned Emerald or Jackie as my fake girlfriend but for some reason, my non-exist braincells couldn't invite the idea of them so I allowed my lips to utter the only name I could think of at a time like this.

" She's Charli Dawson," Even her name sounded disgusting inside my mouth, like rotten cheese mixed with spoiled milk , raw fish and  blood. It's like that name doesn't belong in my mouth and the mere mention of it brought some sort of allergic reaction to my body. But despite the disdain I harbored towards Charli Dawson, my hate for Leslie stood tall and strong.

Seems like I wasn't the only one that was shocked by the fake revelation of me 'dating' Charli Dawson as Leslie's mouth hang open almost breaking her jaws at the impact, her eyes almost falling out of their sockets as she gave me a wide eyed look, equally as surprised as I was.

" Charlotte Dawson?" She asked, a doubtful tone lingering inside her voice.

I opted for a simple head nod seeing as the bitter taste Charli's name injected my tongue hadn't dissipated yet, or maybe I'm just a drama queen sometimes....well, most times.

" Yeah, right," A derisive laugh was hurled my way, Leslie pushing the safety goggles up the bridge of her nose ,her dainty fingers reaching over for a test tube half way filled with a chemical solution by the name of Sodium Hydroxide. " The same Charli Dawson, whom you were insulting today in front of the school doors before homeroom?"

" It's just how we operate," I gave a casual shrug. " We bicker sometimes, it strengthens our relationship. Makes things interesting and all that garbage."

" So insulting her breast size in front of the whole school is supposed to 'strengthen' your relationship?" She interrogated , eyebrow arched in mockery.

" Exactly," I said, snatching the test tube from her finger's grasp and brought it up to my nose for a whiff. It smelled like nothing; odorless.

" And if I asked Charli, will she corroborate your statement of you dating each other?"

" Uh huh," Another nonchalant response despite the quandary that had hijacked me by making this ridiculous revelation. My care free attitude only invited problems to my life. Right now, I've dug myself a hole deep enough to bury seventeen people; it's an oddly specific number, maybe because seventeen is my unlucky number. How was I supposed to ask Charli Dawson to be my fake girlfriend just so that Leslie Jenkins can leave me alone?

Staring inside the beaker filled with concentrated benzoic acid , I contemplated on chugging it down hoping it would kill me.

********************

I was looking forward to seeing Amanda this evening for our daily detention , or as I like to call it , our date.

As students scurry towards the front doors in lightning speed , you'd think they were being chased by some armed murderer, I prepared myself for our date - I mean detention. I'm not exaggerating when I say I sprayed on a new coat of body spray for this occasion, even took my time to glance at a mirror to assess my appearance, maybe appreciate my handsomeness. God , I was good looking. How would I know this? Well, I am a level one narcissist so having an inflated ego is one of my chronic illnesses. That and being a self entitled asshole.

Just as expected, the beautiful Amanda had braced the seat behind her desk, stacks of books piled in front of her she almost looked dwarfed by them as she industriously dragged her red pen over the pages, seemingly marking them. My presence remained unacknowledged as she buried her nose in the endless piles of books. I stood, rooted to the spot behind the threshold, mesmerized at how alluring she looked, her face adopting a resting bitch-face, her plump bottom lip sucked inside her mouth biting it tenderly as her hands marked through pages and pages of work. Once again, I still can't believe her stupid husband divorced such a fiery fox . How stupid can he be?

" Once you're done ogling at me , feel free to take your seat ," Her voice pulled me back to the present. Her eyes refusing to take leave at the book she was currently marking, Amanda informed me .

" I wasn't ogling," I denied the obvious, waiting to see her reaction to that.

" Please," She scoffed, eyes still trained to the book. " You wouldn't last five minutes without gaping at my breasts or ass. I've seen you do it without  shame or guilt. " With that, she slammed her pen on the desk and offered me her famous scrupulous stare , silently daring me to counter her words. I was impressed. So she knew I was eye fucking her most of the time?

" Well, I guess your outfits are always revealing so can you blame me for staring at your beautiful assets?" I smirked, schlepping my backpack on my shoulder as I made my way to the front row seat , directly opposite her desk where I can truly appreciate her .

" Let's be real for a second, Maxwell,"

" It's Max,"

" I don't care," She pushes her seat back, a sharp screech is heard from the aftermath and she's up on her feet. My gaze follows her as she strolls to where I'm seated, the click click of her stilletos sounding like music to my ears. Soon, she's standing right in front of me , and as if that wasn't bad enough, Amanda bends over, her blouse plummeting a few inches down and I'm blessed with the sight of her perfect cleavage as her palms rest on top of my desk.

" Let's be real for a second," she revised, her voice filled with conviction, not wavering. " I could walk in this class wearing a sack and you still wouldn't be able to take your eyes off me. Why is that? Don't you have other young girls your age whom you'd want to ogle?"

I loved how she was hyper aware of her sex appeal , how she knew she turned heads wherever she walked because of her enchanted beauty and sexy body. Just hearing her say how she would rock an ugly sack and still get me panting made me stiffen a bit. And it doesn't help that her breasts are mere inches away from my face. Those fun bags dangling heavy in front of my eyes .

" I'd rather shove a hot cucumber up my butthole than ogle at girls my age," She winced at the response before replacing it with an impressed smirk that tugged at the edges of her burgundy lips.

" So it's normal for you to hit on women twice your age?" She asked.

" Absolutely," I leaned back on my seat nonchalantly, smirking back at her , my arm draped across the back rest.

" Why is that?"

" I like a mature woman, one who's had experience,"

" Or maybe you have mommy issues? Ever thought about that?"

" You can't possibly believe in that nonsense, Amanda,"

" It's Mrs. Dawson,"

" I don't care," I shrugged. " Also , why Mrs. Dawson? Wasn't that your ex husband's last name? Is it not weird that you're still using his last name despite the fact that you are no longer married to him?"

Her eyes blink in shock at that audacious question, that devious smirk morphing into a pleasantly surprised smile, her fingers softly drumming against my desk in a rhythmic tune. Her mouth opens yet no words are uttered, almost as if she was debating on what to say to that question but clamming up.

" Or maybe you're not entirely over him?" I suggested and she snickered.

" How about you mind your business, okay?" She politely went, her face masked with a fake smile.

" The same way you should mind your business about my preference in older women?" I smiled back , equally as fake as hers.

" Sure...." She nods slowly, standing upright from her bent posture, pulling her shirt hem down her pencil skirt a bit before turning to head to her seat.

" Nice ass , Amanda," I ensure to inform her and she replied with an eye roll , plopping back down to her seat and immediately dived back to marking her books.

" So I'm guessing today you won't punish me by ordering me to scrape gum under desks," I teased .

" If you want, it could be arranged,"

" So yes or no? Or are you going to ask me to wash your car?"

Amanda peers from behind the wall of books ahead of her , those blue eyes invaded by the most deadliest of glares, afraid she'd turn me to stone at their iciness any second now.

" Just shut up and let me finish my work," And then she mumbled to herself " it's gonna take me the whole night to finish with this work , I swear. " Behind those fiery eyes was a shadow of exhaustion, the tiredness lingering behind those impossibly long eyelashes as she battled with sleep and tiredness. Sometimes being a teacher seemed like a punishment. I'd rather hang my balls in a stick than become a teacher by profession. Although, she does make teaching look sexy. If there was an award for sexiest teacher in the whole world, Amanda would most definitely win that award. You'd have to see her to know what I'm saying. She's perfect.

Without giving it any rational thought, I slowly rose from my seat , dropped my backpack on the ground as it landed with a soft thud and make my way to her desk all the while,her attention was greatly focused on the books , unaware of my approaching frame.

" Do you need help?" That startled her as she jumped slightly at my invading presence, her face shifting to a look of aeration.

" With your two cents brain, I highly doubt that you'd be of any assistance," She sneered, going back to marking.

" Thank you for insulting me ," I said, reached for one of the books she was yet to mark and flipped through the pages. It was an assignment on Trigonometric ratios. If I recall correctly, I got a 5 out of a hundred on this unit.

" If it's true it's not an insult, it's more of a true statement," she replied.

" Well... I'm just trying to help you coz you seem like you're struggling," I offered. " What can I do to help?"

" You can help by staying out of my way, how about that?" She sarcastically went, facing me with an innocent fake smile on.

" Seriously, Amanda, let me help,"

" Don't humor me , Maxwell," She gave a derisive laugh. " I'd prefer if a monkey offered to help me than you. "

" So you're willing to side with a monkey than with me?" I tried to feign hurt.

" Precisely," She finalized before diving back to her previous marking. I watch in silence as she did , not batting an eye and I could tell that it distracted her , her body squirming slightly as she tried to ignore my probing gaze.

Eventually, I won as she slammed her pen back down , faced me with an irritated look on her face. " Do you mind? I hate it when people stare at me while I'm working. "

" Well, I'm not leaving unless you let me help you," I wagered, smirking at her displeased expression.

" Fine!" She snarled, reaching under her desk as she pulled one of the drawers before pulling out a tin filled with paper clips. " Count these and tell me the exact number of them. "

Shoving the tin inside my palms, Amanda returned back to her work. I gaze back at the clear tin  curled around my fingers inside were about fifty silver paper clips clung inside and I faced her with an eyebrow raised incredulously.

" You can't be serious, Amanda," I said hoping she was joking about the task she'd asked me to do.

" I am serious, now get the fuck out of my face, will you?" She spat.

" What do you take me for ?" I whined.

" A brainless fool who can't understand basic calculus equations,"

" Calculus is boring,"

" Good ,now count those and leave me alone,"

I wanted to be petty so I obliged to her request, making my way back to my seat with a naughty mission at hand. She wants me to count paper clips? So be it. Having dumped the entire tin on my desk , watching the silver metal strings sprawl over it , I rolled my sleeves up to my elbows, cleared my throat loud enough to evoke a reaction from the irated woman , I begun counting.

In a loud voice.

" One paper clip, Two paper clips, Three paper clips, Four paper clips, Five paper clips...."

Suddenly a wadded paper is chucked my way , successfully hitting my forehead before bouncing down to the floor.

" What is your problem?" An angered tone was evident in her voice, glaring daggers my way.

" You asked me to count the paper clips," I innocently went, in a defensive voice.

" Did I say to count out loud?" She asked harshly.

" You never said not to, " I cleverly put in. " All you said was that I should count paper clips. You didn't specify what voice to use, whether I should be quiet or loud."

" Well if you had any functioning brain you'd know that I preferred silence seeing as I'm busy marking books!" Retorted Amanda.

" That's your fault for not being specific," I smirked.

" Oh sure, blame me for your lack of mental capacity!" She went. " Look, I could rely use some peace and quiet so please, just let me work!" That came out as an exasperated yell, throwing her hands devastatingly before going back to her work. Seconds ticked away, with me idly twiddling the paper clips in my hands whilst watching Amanda work. I've never seen her so frustrated with cumbersome work before. Usually she's all put together, effectively handling her school tasks proficiently but today, it seems like they wanted to bury her in work.

My lips curl ahead of me as I blew a whistle note of whatever song that danced inside my subconscious. First it starts off low and quiet before graduating into a shrill out of tune whistling. Another loud groan infiltrated the atmosphere.

" How many times am I going to tell you to keep quiet as I work!" Amanda cried in agony.

" Silence makes me uncomfortable," I defended. " Unless you allow me to help you.... otherwise, I'm going to whistle until my lips fall off."

Amanda grabs her phone and fires it up, seemingly checking the time. I follow suit. I still had about forty-five minutes before detention ends. Which means forty-five minutes of torturing her.

" Okay," She sighed loudly. " If I do this for you, will you leave me alone?"

I nodded excitedly at her , like a five year old who got asked if they'd eat ice cream for dinner.

With her gaze still impaled on mine , Amanda reached inside her bag and fished out her silver surface MacBook, carefully placed it on her desk before flipping it open. Her slender index finger beckoned to me to come over where she sat and like an obedient servant, I made my way there , standing behind her chair as I watched from over her shoulder. Her fingers typed through the keyboard her password and soon , a picture of her and her kids, Zac and Charli, illuminate the home screen. It's a lovely picture of her at the beach with her kids, all wearing infectious smiles and for a moment, a pang of jealousy squeezes my chest. My family rarely goes on vacation probably because my father values his work more than he does his kids and mom, well, she is a submissive bitch who clings on every word my father says.

" Nice home screen pic," I found myself complimenting.

" Really?" I could detect a hint of laughter in her voice. " I thought it looked kinda rushed. Charli didn't like the fact that I forced her to smile during that picture."

It's true. Charli was smiling but it kinda looked plastic. A plastic smile, she somewhat resembled SpongeBob's evil twin or a Cheshire cat. It looked funny and I wondered how she'd react had I shown her this pic. Kinda cute , actually. I didn't even know that she had dimples. That's new .

" Is she wearing a pink bikini? Charli hates pink. She says it looks like a fairy princess' barf ," I pointed out and soon enough, Amanda and I are chuckling at the oddity of this picturesque photo.

" She had to, " Amanda went between laughs. " I didn't want her to look like a corpse in the picture. Can you imagine she wanted to wear a black outfit to the beach that day? Who does that?!"

" She swears on the color black , it's her personality so I can't really blame her,"

" Yeah , right. I wonder when she'll grow out of this goth phase of hers," Her eyes had this far away look, a reminiscent gaze as she looked back on that particular day , her lips curved in a wistful smile.

" I don't know.... something tells me she'll look ridiculous with any color other than black," I couldn't picture her with a brown dress , or a purple one ,or a green one. Any color would look wrong on her , except for black. That's what happens when you make your whole personality into one thing. Anything that went against your usual routine would look peculiar. Like Charli wearing pink or blue and not black.

" She does look good in pink though. I love this picture because she doesn't look like she's about to preside over a funeral," Amanda spoke in a saccharine tone. " Vibrant colors compliment her eyes and radiant skin. I wish she could see what I see. "

I silently fish out my phone from my back pocket and discreetly snap a pic of the home screen pic, my mission being to show Charli how ridiculous she looks in pink. Maybe even use it as blackmail if she ever messes with me again.

" Anyway...." The moment is short lived as Amanda clicks on a tab on her page, a PowerPoint presentation flashing across the screen with a bunch of bullet points on. " Do you know how to make PowerPoint notes?"

" Er...."

" Good," she doesn't allow me to answer as she proceeds to instruct me on what to do. " I want you to type for me some of these notes I wrote on my notepad -" And proceeded to produce the said yellow notepad with dog ears under each written page ,sprinkled with over a thousands notes inside it . I snatched the notepad from her hands and perused over the pages, my eyes increasing in size with each page turned.

" You want me to type all of these?" I exclaimed.

" You said you wanted to help is that right?" I could see her lips twitching in a devious smirk. Oh she's good! But I wasn't going to back down....

" You're trying to test me?"

" Here," Handing me her MacBook, I gracefully grabbed it , awarding her a fake smile. " I don't want any spelling mistakes or grammatical errors."

" In other words, you expect me to type it to perfection,"

" Knock yourself out,"