Cheerleaders were the bane of Barry's existence. They were obnoxious, they were dumb and probably worst of all- they had vocal cords.
He blinked at the anonymous redhead standing next to him. He was vaguely aware that she was saying something, after all, her lips were moving, but the specifics were one big blur. But while his impulses were urging him to take the brunette's neck and squeeze, his eyes were insisting that he just zero in on her chest.
Her very nice chest.
"…so then Stephanie tells Ashley, who slept with Kyle, that she should totally go out with Brad, knowing that…"
Her very nice and delightful chest.
"…Brad has been Kyle's sworn enemy since like the womb, but of course…"
Her very nice and delightfully full chest.
"…being the total space cadet that she is, Ashley completely neglected to think about that and had sex with Brad during half-time in the boys locker ro…um, Barry are you even listening to me?"
Her very nice and...
"Wha…what?" He questioned, as the redhead's sharp nudge dragged him out of his daze.
"I said are you listening to me?" She repeated, growing annoyed.
"Not really." He deadpanned.
She gasped dramatically, as if he had just told her she had grown a second head. Which for all Barry knew, could have very well been true, considering the fact that he was still very much focused on her nice and delightfully full…
"I can't believe you!" She roared, as if ignoring her was a crime against man.
Of course, as far as Barry was concerned, the fact that she was even allowed to speak was a crime against man as well as nature.
"To tell you the truth, you pretty much lost me after 'Hello'" He explained, shrugging his shoulders carelessly, "In fact, I don't even remember your name. And while Anonymous-big-breasted-cheerleader is more than fitting, I think you'll agree that it's both entirely too long as well as broad."
"Y-you jerk, I-"
She stopped abruptly, obviously incapable of forming a coherent comeback. He watched with a grin as she quickly made her way down the hall with a loud 'huff'.
Oh, she'd be back.
Of course next time he'd have to remember to bring ear plugs.
He chuckled lightly as he turned to open his locker. Ah, cheerleaders. Sure they were annoying as hell, but they were also easy. Almost too easy.
"Though I'm well aware that bullying innocent girls is your favorite pastime next to masturbating to your Pink Power Ranger pin-up, I still think you should know that it's rather unappealing to third party onlookers."
Barry's smile quickly disappeared at the sound of an all too familiar voice. As he closed his locker door he was met with the accusing gaze of one ticked off Julie James.
"Gee Julie, I didn't even see you there." He greeted sullenly while swinging his backpack over his shoulder.
Julie merely snorted, "I don't find that surprising, being that you were much too busy making Marcy Dunkin feel completely inadequate in your presence."
Barry raised his left eyebrow, "Who the hell's Marcy Dunkin?"
"Only the redhead you berated less than five seconds ago." She explained apparent distaste in her voice.
"Marcy, is it?" He repeated the name with what Julie assumed was his thoughtful expression, though in actuality, he just looked constipated. "I would have thought her more of a 'Pamela'."
Julie groaned, "I know I'll probably regret this, but out of curiosity, may I ask why that is?"
Barry grinned, "Did you see her chest. I mean the chick literally had tits for days."
Julie rolled her eyes, "While you just confirmed that men are, in fact, the inferior sex, I still fail to see why you thought Marcy looked like a 'Pamela'."
The blond quarterback stared at her as if she had just asked if the sky was blue. "C'mon Julie, big boobs- Pamela Anderson. It's not quantum physics, just basic female anatomy."
Julie blinked slowly, still not understanding, "Um, what?"
"Don't tell me you don't know who Pamela Anderson is?" Barry asked with both a hint of amusement and disbelief at the brunette's blatant ignorance of the actress in question, "Haven't you ever seen 'Baywatch'?"
Julie couldn't help but grin at the blond in front of her, "Though it may come as some sort of shock to you, I try not to watch anything that will significantly lower my IQ to that of my shoe size in the short span of 30 minutes."
Barry smirked slowly at the thin brunette, "Oh yes, I must have forgotten, you are much to busy watching repeats of 'Touched By an Angel' to ever fully appreciate a television series that provides both quality and entertainment."
"Okay, first of all," Julie said tightly, grimacing at the fact that anyone could believe that travesty of a show was entertaining, "while 'Baywatch' presents many things such as awful actors, a miserable excuse of a script, and month's worth of masturbation material for 40 year-old men who are completely incapable of being in the same room with someone of the opposite without either A) creaming in their corduroy pants or B) passing out cold, it does not present anything that even scarcely resembles "quality". Instead, the show offers quantity, and in the form of cleavage no less. The basic premises of the series revolves around big-chested women who happen to use their breast as floatation devices. And while that act is certainly convenient, it only exposes the show for what it really is; pure, unadulterated crap. And for the record," She said sharply before taking a breath from her spontaneous crusade against all things 'Baywatch', "'Touched By an Angel' just so happens to be a series full of both quality and entertainment. It delivers a beautiful message regarding the greater good and the strength of man, while also providing both hope and understanding for humanity."
Barry stared blankly at the brunette in front of him, still reeling slightly from her rather drawn-out speech.
"Well Julie, I think it's safe to say that you've not only managed to leave me with a headache that could last for hours, if not days, but you've also successfully reminded me just why it was that I, along with the better half of the school's male population, try to avoid your mere presence at all cost. That being said," He quickly pushed past her, and flippantly called over his shoulder, "Au Revoir."
Julie blinked slowly at the empty spot that Barry had occupied only seconds earlier before turning around quickly to follow him down the hall.
"Hey," she called out sharply, before falling into step with him in surprising ease, "We haven't finished talking yet!"
"While I'm practically dying to hear more concerning your feminist tirade over the treachery of women with melon-sized tits on 'Baywatch', I'm afraid I have other things engagements to attend to. Ya know the usual; nerds to permanently handicap, insanely hot girls to fuck. You see, a jock's civil duty is never fully done." He quickened his step as he turned the corner, "I'm sure you understand."
"Wait!" she said suddenly, jumping in front of him before he reached the door. "This is important."
The blond's light brow arched at Julie's irrational behavior.
He eyed her with both curiosity and distaste, "And what, pray tell, is so important that you had to block my only exit to the outside world… away from you."
Julie heaved a sigh, glad to finally have Barry's full attention. Albeit negative, but attention nonetheless. "It's about Marcy Dunkin."
Barry stared at her dumbly, "Who?"
Julie rolled her eyes "You know the "big-breasted" redhead you were talking to earlier?"
The blond teenager continued to look at her blankly before a flash of recognition finally settled into his eyes, "Oh, you mean Pamela!"
Julie was about to fire a very 'unlady'-like barb, but for the sake of time she decided to ignore the quarterback's blatant bout of stupidity just this once, "yeah…err… that's the one. Anyway, I overheard your conversation, and while it seemed that…"
"Wait, wait, wait" Barry interrupted, shaking his head with a smirk, "You mean, you were actually ease-dropping."
Julie's eye's narrowed at the blond's haughty accusation, "Like I said before I merely overheard your conversation. Besides, my ears were practically assaulted by your obvious insensitivity and disregard for Marcy's feelings. And on that note," she said tightly, crossing her arms over her chest, "you're a real asshole."
Barry grinned at the sudden change in direction. For all the (regretful) years that he had known Julie, she had never once been able to pass up the opportunity to remind him just how much of a 'jerk' he was (save for that one time when they were eight years old and she had came down with bronchitis and couldn't really speak, much less insult him. Of course, only then had she taken up a new method of getting her point across, and had opted to swatting him in the back of the head…over and over again).
Barry grinned easily, "An asshole am I? Well I'll bet any day that's its far better than being an uptight, frigid little bitch. And since you just so happen to be one yourself, what do you say we compare notes?"
"Har.Har." She said dryly, miffed that she had gotten off subject so easily, "But right now let's discuss the issue of Marcy Dunkin."
"Pamela," he corrected. "And I wasn't aware that there was even an issueto discuss. The chick's a cheerleader for god's sake. Easy Pussy equipped with pom poms and a mini-skirt. Case closed."
Julie grimaced, "If you were any more repugnant, it'd be illegal."
Barry grinned at her 'supposed' distaste, and waggled his eyebrows suggestively. "And if you were any more turned on by me, you'd have to change out of your granny-esque panties."
Julie simply snorted, "Some other lifetime, Cox."
"Your loss baby," He replied breezily, as he tried to make his way pass the brunette. That is, until a determined hand shoved him back into place.
"We're not finish yet."
Barry groaned loudly in protest, like a temperamental boy starved for Sega. "What could you possibly want now, you witch woman! It's apparent that you don't have anything important to say. This was obviously just some ill-crafted plot to get me alone."
The brunette rolled her eyes, "Don't flatter yourself just yet. Look, it's about you and Marcy…"
"Pamela," he corrected once again.
Julie rolled her eyes, "Whatever. So about…Pamela…"
"What about her?" He interrupted impatiently.
"Is there any chance you'll let me finish?" She asked irritably.
"Is there any chance you'll get to the point?" He countered equally annoyed.
"Look asshole!" She exclaimed, ticked off at his impatience and obvious disinterest, "The only reason I was talking about Marcy…or Pamela, or whatever the hell it is that you want to call her, is because of Helen. For some strange reason, beyond my level of understanding, she likes you, or better yet, thinks she likes you. And for another equally strange reason, she seemed to be under the impression that you and I were close, which is absolutely ridiculous considering the fact that the only time I would want to be near you is if you were hanging over a ledge and were about to plummet 6,000 feet into a field of rusty nails. Of course, being the great friend that I am, I ignored that gory little detail and decided to help her snag you for the simple sake of her happiness. Though, once again, I'm at a loss as to how she could ever be happy with you, but I've chosen to overlook her poor choice in men in the interest of being a nonjudgmental 'pal'. So now I'm going to report back to Helen and tell her like it is. I'm going to tell her that you are probably going to fuck Marcy in the near future, my bet, within the next hour. I'm also going to tell her that you will probably try to get into her pants as well, more than likely, thirty minutes after you have gotten into Marcy's, since you seem to be partial to cheerleaders, though you claim they are like 'dolled up crack whores minus the charm'. I'm also going to tell her for the umpteenth time since 4th period that she's making a serious mistake trying to get involved with you, since you are, and always will be, a complete and total dick. But for the umpteenth time since 4th period, she'll ignore my warnings, and insist that there's 'more to you than what's on the surface'. Which is complete bullshit, because in all honesty, I think she really only likes you because she thinks you have great hair or something equally vain. In fact, she's quite obsessed with hair…but I digress. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to go find the hair lunatic in question, and tell her everything I know, which in actuality won't be anything different from what I told her for the umpteenth time since 4th period. That being said," Julie pushed open the door, and flippantly over her shoulder she said, "Au Revoir jackass."
Barry was left to stare absolutely dumbfounded and bewildered as the door closed in Julie's wake.
He wasn't quite sure what had just happened…or even why. Although he knew from years of unfortunate experience and circumstance that the sometimes volatile Julie James was liable to dive into incoherent rants at any given moment, and oddly enough, he was usually at the receiving end of said rants. However, her latest was, for a lack of an actual existing word, quite 'ergh'.
And he didn't know if that was an exceptionally bad or curiously good thing.
During her entire declamation, Barry only managed to think of two things:
1) Given that school was actually over, he could probably be out in the courtyard, respectively beating the living shit out of Ian McKeener- the miserable little Sasquatch who had had the nerve to give him lip after Barry had eloquently, in the middle of World Studies class, described his rather insightful exploration of the twerp's sister.
2) 'Seething with anger' was a frightfully hot look for Julie. (Though, Barry was very well acquainted with this thought. In fact, though he would rather whip himself with his own testicles than admit it out loud, he thought that she incredibly…daresay sexy, when she was angry. And since she was so soft-spoken in most circles, he nearly drank up the sight of her whenever he could…)
Understandably, Barry did his best to ignore that last particular thought. Of course he couldn't honestly be attracted to Julie James- since to the best of his knowledge, hell hadn't completely frozen over yet. Besides, they had known each other since they were small children, and from day one there had only been one feeling between them; contempt.
Years of disdain didn't just disappear overnight.
So with determination, Barry William Cox declared his semi-erect 'solider' at ease, and decided to focus on one part in particular of Julie's rant.
With a cocky smile he ran his fingers through his short golden curls as he made his way towards the door.
Helen Shivers thinks I have great hair.
A/N: I'm not exactly sure if this story will end up as Barry/Julie or Barry/Helen (though I'm quite partial to the latter), so you'll just have to bear with me as the story progresses. I always thought that Barry and Julie would make for an interesting pairing to write, and they have proven to be just that so far.
As always, feedback is appreciated