Deliciously Cliche

Rain storms, Starbucks, and beautiful boys. Jamie is a writing student in Boston- awkward, dirt poor, and a sucker for cliches. * I don't typically condone to this sort of cheesy nonsense

Deliciously Cliche

Hannah Fishburn

       The rain was going to ruin my hair. Ugh, don’t I sound like such a. . . a spoiled rich girl? I’m not. In fact, I am basically the opposite. I’m barely scraping by on college payments, eating ramen and cheap coffee and sharing a room with a bunch of girls I barely know. Oh, the trials of a student. But that’s beside the point.

       The rain was going to ruin my hair, I realized, standing at the bus stop, two miles away from home. Yup. You’d think that after living in Boston for two years, walking and bussing EVERYWHERE, that I’d learn to check the weather before leaving the house. Or look out the window. Nah. And the bus wasn’t scheduled to arrive for fifteen minutes.

       I held my laptop bag over my head, looking around for cover. Why did I care so much about my hair looking nice, you might be wondering? Well, for one thing, I had taken the time to actually style it. I was that girl in highschool who arrived everyday with my handy-dandy tractor supply gardening boots and a frizzy ponytail. But more importantly, I was meeting with someone rather important to me. By important, I mean, this woman is singlehandedly responsible for me being mildly successful in writing school. My high school writing teacher, Mrs. Wentz.

       Not that I had much to show for it. Thesis papers? Book reviews? All too many literary essays? Yes, all that and a dozen Shakespeare projects. But I don’t count any of them as actual accomplishments. I don’t feel like I really created anything. I was in writing school, hoping to someday write a book or something, yet I barely have a story to my name.

       Still holding my damp bag over my head, I dashed for cover across the busy street inside of a Starbucks. Again, stereotypical rich girl, but another misleading coincidence.

       Inside, I could hear the rain pick up, drumming against the glass windows. I swung my laptop bag back onto my shoulder, and I carefully arranged my hair. Was it too late? It still felt sleek and wavy. I took a nervous side glance at my reflection in the window; it still looked nice enough.

       Being so near to a writing school in a major city, there were a few college kids with dreadies and indie clothes typing away at laptops in leather chairs around a fake stone fireplace. I wanted to just sit and wait out the storm, but I realized that I really ought to buy something if I was going to hang out there. I wondered what the cheapest item was.

       Standing in line, I settled on a medium tea, plain. Good enough for me, and easy on the wallet.

       “That’ll be $1.39,” the pizza faced kid behind the register said. I nodded and opened my wet laptop bag. Digging around blindly, I held up a finger.

       “Hang on,” I said, “It has to be in here somewhere. . .”

       But yeah. The awkward part was, the wallet was NOT in there. Anywhere. I started to panic. Not because my wallet was missing, (it only had like, like, fifteen bucks in it,) but because how embarrassing it was. The cashier stared at me, impatient.

       I felt heat rise in my cheeks and I was about to make up some reason that I had to immediately leave when I heard the doors open, and someone dashed in and tapped me on the shoulder. A guy. A nice looking, white smiled, University-jacket-wearing, guy. Mmm..

       “Excuse me, but I saw your wallet drop out of your bag outside, when you were holding it upside down,” the guy said. Oops. I took the wallet and paid for my tea. The cashier went away to fix it up.

       “Thank you so much,” I said. “You saved my butt.” The guy laughed.

       “Yeah, well, I thought you’d probably need it.” Ugh, he was so pretty. “And it was a good excuse to meet such a beautiful girl.”

       Woah. A gentleman.

“Thanks,” I said, wearing my most winning smile. But then, I faltered.

“You DO mean me, right?” I said awkwardly. He laughed again. He even had a pretty-boy-laugh.

       “Yes, of course. I’m Greyson. Want to get coffee or something sometime?” he said, leaning against the counter where I was waiting for my tea. My heart skipped a beat. Well, not literally, of course, because I am still alive to write this, but in a cheesy love story type of way. Beautiful boys don’t typically chase after me, dramatically meeting me in a coffee shop in the rain, in the rain, oh- the writer inside of me could hardly bear the cliche, but the girl inside of me lapped it up like milk and honey.

       “I’d like that,” I said. “I’m Bridget. Should I give you my number or. . .” I trailed off awkwardly. Inexperienced, I guess. Some girls flirt so easily. I am not one of them.

       He grinned. “That won’t be necessary. I slipped my card into your wallet. Call me,” he said. “I think Friday would do nicely.”

       I knew that I had a yoga session Friday evening, and classes all morning. Oh well.

       “Yeah, Friday is good,” I said.

       Then, he left. The cashier gave me my tea, and I went and sat in a leather chair in the corner. I still felt all jittery and light as air. A cute boy gave me his number, and returned my wallet. Huh. I should’ve bought a lottery ticket or something.

       But, instead, I opened my laptop and decided to take a crack at a story I’d been trying to write for a while. I realized that during the whole beautiful-boy endeavor, I had missed my 12:15 bus. I had to wait another hour.

        So, Mrs. Wentz, that’s why I was late to our lunch. But hey. I got something done today. Write me back.

    -Jamie

Author's Note

*Do you think my use of cliches is over done?
*I don't hardly EVER write romance, so how are the interactions between Jamie and Greyson?
*If my spelling/formatting sucks, please spare me. I edited, but I'm not used to the WritersCafe text editor, yet
*If you are reading this and planning to review, I freAKING LOVE YOU

Reviews

[Karis]

Hi :)

Great story!!
I like the cliche's but I think the "rich girl" cliche might be a bit too much. Maybe sterotypical teenager instead?
Be careful of your "ands" and "buts"
I think the story could really benefit from more descriptive words and scenes
Other than that, I love it. The concept is cute and heart-warming. :) :)

- Karis
.

[Desiree B.]

For someone who hardly writes romance I thought this was pretty good. Personally, I hardly read romances but your writing demanded my attention. For example, I really enjoyed the attitude of your main character. There are a few cliches in there but I don't think you would've named this prose "Deliciously Cliche" for nothing lol. Even so, I could forgive them and still enjoy the read (and I think that's what's important).

Nice work!

[Alyson]

I don't think the use of your clichés is over done. I like it and I think the interactions are really good. I like the story and I think its really cute and good. :)

[Hannah Fishburn]

Thank you very much :)