Disclaimer: I'm not Meg Cabot. DON'T RUB IT IN.

Notes: This is just a really pointless little one-shot. I mean, seriously pointless. I'm not entirely sure why I wrote it; I was just bored. And it's really, really, really short. I don't know; you don't have to read it. But, if you, I hope you like it.

Tiff

"Miss Simon, would you please consider gracing us with consciousness?"

My head jolted up when a ruler slammed at my desk. Ugh. Stupid music history professor. For your information, I was up all last night studying for your class. A class which I was forced to take, by the way. God, why would I, Suze Simon, psych major and average non-nerdy DLU freshman, be interested in music history? I can't play a freaking ukulele, thank you very much.

But I didn't say that. God, I'm such a wimp. No, what I said was, "Sorry, Professor Hurley. My dorm-mates were up partying last night. I couldn't sleep."

Well, part of that was true. They had been partying. But I'd been safe within my room, which I'd soundproofed the first week with Styrofoam. I'm just not the party type.

"Well, Miss Simon, I certainly hope you weren't participating in such festivities. And on a Monday night! I swear..."

Professor Hurley and her giant body waddled off to the front of the classroom.

"Too bad you didn't join us, Suze," hissed a voice in my ear. After years of this, I was totally used to it. Chills hardly ran up my spine when it happened. And Paul and I were cool, now. Not great friends, or whatever, but fine. I kept my composure and simply raised my middle finger over my shoulder to where Paul was sitting. Kind of angrily; kind of teasingly. He chuckled and pressed my hand back down onto my loose leaf note paper. "Ah, feisty as always. You'd be the life of the party, Susie."

"Paul," I said warningly, still a bit of humour in my voice. "Don't call me that. I'll break your nose, I swear to God."

I could feel his smirk. "I think I've built an immunity to that."

"Just like you've built an immunity to Viagra?"

Okay, at first glance, that seems like a bad joke. But I swear it's a gem. Think about it: if you use an antibiotic way too much, it becomes ineffective. So I was implying that he used Viagra so much it didn't work anymore.

...Get it?

Oh, bugger off.

Paul, the ever-witty guy he is, hit me where it hurt. "Oh, you'd know."

I spun my head around and glared at him. "What?" I demanded.

He grinned. "You heard me."

"I thought I told you never to bring up junior year again, Slater. And how would I know? We kissed. Little mister Sex God of Carmel never got past second base with Susie Simon, thanks."

I wasn't exactly pissed at him, but I was a little mad, and my voice had risen from a whisper to normal speech. Paul was smirking at me with an eyebrow raised, and half the class was watching us in awe. I just knew what they were thinking- Oh, God, Slater and Simon did it! La-de-freakin'-da!

"Um," I said quietly. "Oops."

"Miss Simon!" shouted Professor Hurley, her double-chin shaking with rage. "I would appreciate it if you and Mr. Slater refrained until after class to discuss the goings-on of your tongues."

Paul was now grinning widely. I glared at him. "Nothing," I said loudly, "Is going on with our tongues. Nothing has been going on with our tongues since eleventh grade, and even then it was certainly not mutual. He, like, mouth-raped me."

Paul seemed unphased. Still grinning- how come he can look so hot even when he's being a bastard? -he said, "Suze, women don't usually respond the way you did when they're being raped."

A few male whoops echoed through the classroom. My tongue went dry, and I could feel my cheeks enflame. How was I supposed to respond to that?

"Oh yeah?" I choked. "Well...screw you, Paul."

Oh, smooth, Suze. Real smooth. He just grinned.

Professor Hurley cleared her throat. "Let's continue."

Ta-da! I told you it was pointless. Kind of cute, though, right?

Okay, maybe not. :P

Review anyways. Bye.