:.: Pick Up Lines (How To Get The Girl) :.:
A Pokemon Fanfic By Kayley Laskitt
Summary: He's smooth. He's cool. He's practically turned picking up girls into an art form. And for the first time in his life, Gary Oak has met a girl whose only response to his lines is laughter. Egoshippy.
Disclaimer: I don't own Pokemon. I don't own the concept of disclaimers. I do not own the term 'egoshippy', nor do I own any of the words used in this entire fic. Now that we've established I own nothing, I think I'm going to sit in a corner and mope.
Author's Notes: You know the drill. This is egoshippy, GAMR, whatever you want to call it, it is a romance fic about Gary and Misty. Okay? You clear? No flaming from anti-egoshippers, please. I'm just going to respond with nasty words.
Title Credits: This song is named for, and inspired by, the very cool song 'Pick Up Lines' by Ugly Duckling which has received a lot of play on Triple J lately.
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Chapter 2: So . . . do you come here often?
"Just give it up."
I sat up from my position on May's bed and looked at my sister, my eyes narrowed. "What?"
May leaned forward towards the mirror at her dressing table and smoothed down her eyebrows, then expertly began brushing glue onto a fake eyelash. She leaned forward again and pressed it to her right eyelid, starting from the inside corner. "You asked for my advice," she replied, speaking slowly as she concentrated on the task at hand. "That's what it is. Just give up on the girl."
I snorted and crossed my legs Indian-style, messing up her very loud, polka dotted bedspread. "Whatever happened to May 'Never Say Die' Oak?"
May took a break from applying the left eyelash to roll her eyes. She finished it, examined each eye critically then turned on the stool she was seated on to face me. "Look, Gary," she said, eyeing me solemnly. "Trust me on this, okay? I know her kind."
"Her kind?" I echoed, doubtfully.
May's deep pink glossed lips twisted into an expression between distaste and annoyance. "One of life's princesses," she said mockingly. "Too pretty and too perfect to have any time for pretty much everyone, but not above using people if she needs them. She's an all-take and no-give kind of girl, Gary. She's not worth your time."
There was a bitterness that was unusual even for May.
"Geez, May," I commented languidly, keeping it light so as not to set her off ranting. "Bitter much?"
May scowled and turned back to the mirror, flipping open an eyeshadow compact viciously. "She reminds me of Alexa Carmine - you remember her?" At my blank expression, May heaved an irritated sigh as she brushed shimmery pink eyeshadow up to her eyebrows. "The one in the yellow dress at my graduation after-party?"
Oh . . . that Alexa Carmine. I grinned at the memory. "She didn't seem so bad to me," I commented, still wearing that grin.
May glared at my reflection in her mirror, as she swapped her pale pink eyeshadow for bright, deep pink. "*She* was one of life's princesses," she told me sharply. "My only consolation for all the years of having to watch her preen is that her life pretty much ended after high school." May snapped her eyeshadow compact closed with a flourish. "I hated that girl."
I furrowed my brow at my sister, wracking my brain for files on Alexa Carmine. "Wasn't she your best friend?"
May looked at me over her shoulder, her brow also furrowed. "Yeah. What's your point?"
I nodded in resignation at her clear indignation. I deserved that kind of response for asking the main contender for the Fickle Bitch award such a stupid question.
"Honestly, Gary," May continued, her words muffled as she sucked her cheeks in to apply deep pink blush to her cheeks. "Don't even bother with her." She turned her head side to side to check her blush was applied evenly then started pressing small rhinestones along her cheekbones.
I had to shake my head. I don't think I'll ever understand how a girl who can bitch and moan about doing the dishes can spend so many hours on make-up.
May caught the look on my face and met my eyes in the mirror. "What's so special about Little Miss Priss anyway?" she asked, her tone far more solicitous than her words. "Why are you so obsessed with her?"
I merely shrugged, not even bothering to try formulating a response. It was question I'd been asking myself with little success.
May heaved an exaggerated sigh. "Carlyn McNamara will be here tonight," she told me optimistically. "Why don't you try replacing Misty the Snow Bitch with Carlyn as the object of your sleazy male pursuits?"
May is nothing if not blunt.
"Great," I muttered, rubbing my eyes. "Carlyn's gonna be here."
May smiled serenely at my torment, adjusted her lacy pink and white corset and unclipped her hair, letting it fall in dark corkscrews around her face.
"How do I look?" she asked brightly, turning to face me.
I sized up the corset, the fishnets, the over-the-top make-up.
"Like a whore."
"An upmarket whore?" May pressed. I nodded, and she smiled sunnily. "Thanks, bro." She nodded at me. "When are you getting dressed?"
I looked down at my long-sleeved t-shirt and jeans. "I am dressed."
May wrinkled the bridge of her nose. "And what the hell are you supposed to be?"
I brushed the front of my shirt. "Free will," I deadpanned.
May eyed me doubtfully, her eyes narrowed. "You don't look like a whale."
I considered explaining the subtle difference between free will and Free Willy to her but I just shook my head instead. "Don't worry - it was a joke. I'm getting dressed now." I stood up and threw her a wink. "When I'm done, you won't be able to take your eyes off me."
May smirked and winked a heavily made-up eye at me. "Yeah, well, I get the feeling that it's not my opinion that really counts to you."
There she was. Standing outside on the patio, holding a glass between her thumb and forefinger as an afterthought. She was dressed as Cinderella, in a full pale pink ball gown, a tiara and long gloves. Shimmery shoes peeped out from beneath the skirt of her dress.
Of course, I knew that she was going to be Cinderella. A slight bribe to Tracey had seen me receiving that information.
"Gary!"
I cringed, my thoughts interrupted - no, pierced beyond repair - by Carlyn McNamara's high-pitched call for my attention.
I pasted a fake smile on my face and turned to face her. "Carlyn. So nice to see you - again. For the seventh time tonight."
She missed the point, giggled, blushed and I nearly groaned out loud. Christ, I wanted to put the girl out of her misery.
Carlyn toyed with the neckline of her Marilyn Monroe costume, smiling coyly. "It's really nice to see you again, too," she purred, touching my arm.
Oh, god.
I pointed at her, trying to formulate my escape. "Excuse me," I said hurriedly, escaping from her grasp and rushing across the room to where Tracey was dressed as either Rambo or G.I Joe and chatting to May, who was reapplying her lip stick.
"You gotta help me," I informed Tracey as I grabbed him by his camouflage and dragged him across the room. "See Marilyn Monroe? Distract her."
Tracey planted his heels firmly into the off-white carpet. "Hold up," he said. "This isn't really my game. I mean -"
"I'll let you have any two of my DVD's," I interrupted him wearily.
"Marilyn! Love the costume!"
With Carlyn safely distracted by Tracey's aimless tales, I made my way out to the patio - and found Misty hadn't moved from her position.
Finally something was going my way.
Confidently, I strolled across the wooden decking, sidled up to Misty and grinned. "So, Cinderella - looks like I'm your Prince Charming."
Misty, less impressed than I was hoping, sized up my Prince Charming costume and smiled a lopsided smile that caused her left cheek to crease with a dimple. "How about that?" she responded vaguely, taking a sip of her drink and looking skyward slightly.
I couldn't tell if she was looking at the stars or trying to ignore me.
"You really do look great," I continued. "Nice costume choice . . . and you know what they say. Great minds think alike." I grinned my most charming grin at her. "What made you choose it?"
Misty set her drink on a near table and looked at me, her head angled ever so slightly. "First of all, let me ask you a question." She paused, her eyes wide and clear and locked on mine. "Who's the girl who's been stalking you all night?"
Automatically, my eyes flicked over to where Tracey was regaling Carlyn with anecdotes. I looked back at Misty, whose left eyebrow was raised knowingly.
"Ah . . . just an old friend," I half-lied. Oh, okay. Full-lied.
"An old friend," Misty echoed, and for a second I thought that maybe she'd bought it. Then she met my eyes, lucid enough to make me nervous. "Why don't you do the girl a favor and be honest with her and tell her that you used her?"
I tried to formulate a response, an excuse, a comeback, anything - and came up empty handed. Misty gave me an irritatingly smug look.
"And before you ask, no, no one told me and yes, you are that transparent."
She brushed past me, the organza of her skirt whispering quietly.
I reached up to rub my temples. I could just imagine what May was going to say when she found out.
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Author's Notes: There's more to come. Constructive criticism and comments welcomed - savetheempire@optusnet.com.au