A/N: I sorted all of my documents yesterday, as an attempt to sort out my crazy life. So, now, this is where each chapter of this story is located:

My Documents/WRITING/Fanfiction/Humor/Sparks Fly, Then They Burn

Oh, and I also had a dream that I borrowed a bag of chips from the library. Random, am I right?

Disclaimer: I own myself...? (No, that's a lie. Niall Horan owns me.)

Song of the Week: See if you can figure it out. (No, that is NOT the song title.)

Recap:

I crossed my arms. "Then tell me why you didn't flirt back."

"Why does it even matter?" Fang cried, looking at me, taking his eyes off the road for no more than a millisecond—when we crashed into something.

Something that looked just like a bike.

(Oh, look. A cliffhanger.)

Sparks Fly, Then They Burn

Chapter Twelve

Fang slammed his foot on the brakes, and I held on to the dashboard, the impact surprisingly not making the airbags pop out. The car screeched as it stopped, and was pretty much the sound. We were both dead silent, scared of what might've just happened. Scared of the fact that we might've… hit somebody.

Our breathing was hard as we stared out the dashboard; there was no bike or anything. This means we'd probably have to get out and look.

Fang and I glanced at each other, pure terror on both of our faces. "Fang… what just happened?" I whispered my words, still in shock.

Fang looked away from me. "I don't know. We should probably get out and check."

Both of us sat there for a second before Fang reached for his door handle. He stepped out of the car, and I decided to follow, so I did the same.

"What the hell…?"

We stared at a red bike and cookies smashed across the pavement. I looked at Fang, who was staring at it. "Wouldn't somebody have to be riding it?"

"JUST LOOK WHAT YOU DID! DID YOU KNOW YOU HAVE TO BUY THE COOKIES BEFORE YOU SELL THEM NOW? NOW I'M IN DEBT! GREAT, JUST GREAT!"

We both jumped at the voice of a teenage girl, whipped around to look at her. She was standing over by where the bike had come from, completely unharmed, other than a scrape on her knee. She was wearing a Girl Scouts uniform and looked hysterical.

"Excuse me, but didn't we just hit you?" Fang asked, bewildered.

The girl rolled her blue eyes. "Yeah, idiot, I'm a ghost right now. No, better yet, I'm a zombie, who's gonna eat your brains if you don't give me the dang money for those dang cookies!" She stomped her foot, acting like a twelve year old even though she looked to be about sixteen.

We just stared at her.

She sighed. "Look. I saw you coming, my brakes don't work, and so I jumped off my bike with my super ninja skills of awesomeness. Now, the cookies I was trying to sell are completely ruined, and I'm out about two hundred bucks. Thanks a lot, douche and douchette."

Fang scratched his head and looked at me. "What do we do now?"

I shrugged. "Pay for the girls cookies, I guess. I mean, she could get a lawyer and sue you for some fine-print law that nobody knows about, which would be a lot more than two hundred dollars."

Fang looked at the girl. "Look, kid, we're about to go to her sister's house. Why don't we go there, I'll get you your money, and then I'll take you home?"

"You know, you look really familiar," the girl said, out of the blue. She stroked her chin and examined us both. "I have this sister who's obsessed with dark movie stars, like vampires and such, and I think I saw you on a poster in her room once…" Suddenly, she snapped her fingers. "Sting Fries!" she cried out, pointing at Fang.

"That sounds delicious, but no," I said, as Fang did a face-palm. "It's Fang Ride. And you were totally right by calling him a douche earlier, but completely wrong for calling me a douchette. But points for creativity."

She frowned. "Oh. Fang Ride. That's boring." She stuck out her hand to both of us, apparently no longer pissed about her cookies. "I'm June Caster. Nice to meetcha."

I shook her hand. "Max Martinez. And, if you don't mind me asking, why are you wearing a Girl Scouts uniform and selling cookies? Aren't you a bit old to be in Girl Scouts?"

"No!" She laughed awkwardly, releasing my hand. "Of course not. A lot of girls my age are in Girl Scouts." She laughed again, which was weird, and said, "Why don't we get going now? And I would feel more comfortable if Max drove." She shot a glare at Fang, who held his hands up in surrender, obviously tired and not in a jerk mood.

So I drove us to Maya's after Fang loaded all the smashed cookies into his trunk and June's mangled bike into the back seat, right next to June herself. June talked the whole way there, all about how her sister is obsessed with Fang and was always first in line at all of his movies and even met him once. But, obviously, Fang's met so many girls, he didn't remember her.

When we got to Maya's, Maya and Iggy we sitting in an awkward silence, with some random jewelry channel on. "How long have you been watching this?" June gaped at it. "I start to lose my mind after one piece of jewelry. I mean, infomercials, I can understand, but this?"

Iggy looked at her. "Who's this?"

Suddenly, June turned off the TV and slid in front of it. "Allow me to introduce myself; I'm a girl of wealth and taste." She smirked widely. The she pointed at nothing. "All you readers out there, I will give awesomeness points to whoever gets what I just said! Seriously! Legit."

"Whenever I hear the word legit, I always think it sounds like le shit, which is basically the French version of the English shit."

Oh, Iggy. Why do you have to be so random and weird?

June looked at him. "I like you. And you look familiar, too." She frowned, and then put on a concentration face. "Lemme think… lemme think… ugh…. PIGGY! YES, YOUR NAME IS PIGGY!"

I couldn't help but laugh at that, and I saw Fang hide a smile. Iggy looked thoughtful, and Maya just looked at June like she was some crazy person; which she is, so I don't really blame her or anything.

"Maya, Fang… Piggy," I snickered, "I'm gonna go start the fried chicken. June, would you like to stay for a late lunch? We're having fried chicken."

June smiled at me. "Sure. As long as you have chicken legs. Legs are my favorite body part to consume."

I nodded, and then went to the kitchen, with Fang behind me; like a true gentleman, he had carried in the grocery bags for me. "So how exactly do you make this stuff?" Fang asked, leaning against the counter as I unpacked the groceries.

"Well, you wash the chicken, dip it in egg mix, and then you dip it in flour. You have to preheat the oil of course, so that you can fry the chicken and what not…" I honestly didn't know why I was rambling like this. I guess it was the fact that Fang was, for once, not being a jerk, and I'd never held a nice conversation with him… so…

Oh my God. I, Maximum Martinez, am nervous.

The thought made me drop the pan full of oil that I was holding, which caused both me and Fang to lunge for it out of instinct. But it was too late; Fang and I slid across the now slippery floor, Fang half on-top of me, and covered in oil. I guess you could say I was lying with Fang, both of us covered in oil, and it could sound really wrong if you took it out of context. But, in this case, we're covered in vegetable oil, and we're both fully clothed, and on a kitchen floor.

We looked at each other, both of us a bit too shocked to feel awkward. All I was really aware of at the moment is that I was pressed up against him, and I could feel his body warmth radiating through the cold oil.

It was probably the hottest, albeit most awkward, moment of my entire life.

We laid there for a couple more seconds before practically jumping up, me blumbering, "Sorry, sorry…" and Fang saying that he should probably get a towel to clean up the mess.

Once he had disappeared, I leaned against the counter and covered my face with my hands. Could my life get any more weird?

A/N 2: BTW, my wonderful readers, do you like June? Or do you think her character should be tossed to the wind like a plastic bag that will soon clog the esophagus of a narwhal?