The tardy bell rings. Kenya and Taylor enter the classroom. I take a seat in my usual spot. We have bell work to complete. It’s asking us to explain what the number seventeen is referring to; I have no idea. I open my binder for paper, and realize that I still have my self-made relationship contract. It was more of a joke when I first wrote it. In it were the basic principles of a stable relationship, at least in my perspective.

Taylor is talking to Kenya about something, when she starts eating part of a cinnamon bun. She catches me glaring at her, and I smile back at her in a naughty fashion. She laughs.

“Did you get off from
that?” says Taylor.

I nod.

“Wow, you’re a freak,” her eyes light up as she says this.



I completely forgot to hide my contract. She notices it almost as fast as I do, taking the opportunity to snatch it before I could even react. I have no idea what to say or do.

“What is this?”

I look away. Kenya takes interest, attempting to steal the contract from Taylor. Taylor’s eyes widen a little bit more with each line she finishes reading. Kenya is becoming impatient.

“Oh my god!” says Taylor.

“Will you let me see it, Taylor?” says Kenya.

I look around the classroom. More and more students are taking interest in my corner of the room. Taylor suddenly shrieks.

“This is gold! I have to get a shot of this!” she says, scrambling for her cell.

Dao, the retard-clown of the class, becomes interested. Now the whole class is focused on me and my contract. Students’ eyes widen as the read through the terms of the document.

“’I can rub your leg in public’? That’s one of your conditions?” says Taylor.

I nod, “Yeah, do you have a problem with that?”

She stares at me with a quizzical glare.

“Did you just like come up with this yourself, or were you forced to do this?” says a random girl in the class.

I place my hand against my chest. “It was all me.”

“That’s genius!” shout a group of guys in the class.

My gaze works backwards towards Taylor. Her eyes meet mine.

“Can I get a picture of you holding this?” she holds up the contract, mimicking exactly what she wants me to do.

“Sure,” I grant her.

I copy her pose as she readies the camera.



As the contract is passed from student to student, I hear gasps and laughter. Kenya whispers something in Taylor’s ear before returning to her seat. Taylor takes seat directly behind me.

“Will you write me a poem?”

I stare at her, confused.

“Like, for me?”

“You mean right now?” I say.

“It’s due before the end of class.”



I take out a piece of paper without taking my eyes off her. I write her name in the top margin of the paper. Spelling out each of the things that make me like her, I cram the sheet full. Kenya peeks over her shoulder and sees what I’m writing and drops her mouth. I block her view, and continue writing.

“Are you done?” says Taylor.

“Shhh, almost,” I whisper.



I finally finish the poem, passing it back to Taylor. She begins reading the paper; this time her eyes widen to an even greater extent. Dao rips the paper from her grasp. His shrieks of laughter grab the attention of the class once again. Taylor grabs her paper back.

“This is the dirtiest thing I’ve ever read!” she claims.

I look at her and smile.

“Oh my God, you really are a freak!”

I shrug.

“Let me see your phone.”

“Go ahead and get it. It’s in my right pocket.”

She smirks, hesitates for a moment, and then reaches quickly for the phone.

She looks through a few messages and I don’t know what else, and then places it back in my pocket. After class I review my cell. A new contact has been programmed into my phone, and I’ve also received a new message marked ‘Taylor’. I open the message.