I see stupid people

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I woke up the next day with my hand throbbing. I looked to see the wrap on it and a splint, fantastic. Then I remember what happened last night. Did I punch the quarterback of the football team in the nose? Yes, I did - homophobic jerk.

I turned to see Nash still sleeping. I sat up to be careful with my hand when I felt an arm pull me back down.

"Morning, you brute," he smiled.

"Morning you tool," I retorted.

"I'll tool you," he said, pulling me under him being careful with my hand. Then he crashed his lips onto mine. Okay, so this wasn't all that bad.

He laid back down next to me, and I sighed.

"What?" He looked at me with concern.

"Why must people be so stupid?" I asked him.

"You mean like the guy you punched last night?"

"Well, yeah," I answered.

He rubbed his chin and said, "It's like that expression. I see stupid people everywhere."

"That's I see dead people everywhere," I corrected him while raising my eyebrows.

"The same thing," he added. He shrugged with a smirk, and I laughed.

We got up and went downstairs to get some coffee. Having to do everything one-handed sucked, but Nash helped me.

"Hey, Rocky," Jasper grinned.

I gave him an unamused look.

"How's the hand?" Paul asked me.

"Hurts like hell," I replied as my hand throbbed from pain.

"Hey Elmer," Nixon smirked, strolling into the kitchen. Great, just what I needed more jokes. I made my coffee and took a sip.

"Morning," Kat yawned, walking into the kitchen and grabbing a cup of coffee.

"How was the dance?" I asked her.

"Besides the fact you clocked the quarterback, it was nice," she smirked.

"I have to go back in a couple of days and get a cast," I said as I took a sip.

We heard a knock at the door, and Nash went to answer it. Then we heard arguing. We all left the kitchen. Nash and the quarterback are yelling at each other. The quarterback with a bandage across his nose.

He spotted me. "You!" His eyes narrowed into a glare. "You broke my freaking nose!"

"You broke my hand," I spat back.

"You broke my nose!" He repeated himself.

"I think we already established that she broke your nose and you broke her hand. Can we move along?" Nixon asked him.

I walked up to him and yelled, "I wouldn't have broken your nose if you weren't such a homophobic jerk!"

"That little twit deserved it," he yelled back.

"How? How does one deserve treated with disregard and contempt?" I asked him.

"Because he went told everyone I'm gay!"

"Are you?"

"Am I what?" He looked at me, confused.

I rolled my eyes. "Are you gay?" This dude was seriously a few sandwiches short of a picnic basket.

"No," he said with a look.

"Then what does it matter?"

"It matters a lot. Do you have any idea how hard it is to get a date because of that twit?"

I stood there. Was this guy for real? I slapped myself with my palm.

"Look, if anyone believes what Marco says, then they are the biggest idiots that walk the face of the earth," I told him.

"Well, this is boring. I will go have breakfast," Nixon said as he turned and walked back into the kitchen. We all looked at him.

"Look, that creep has been giving me a hassle ever since I set foot on campus," the guy huffed. Well, this made sense.

I walked over to the bottom of the stairs and yelled, "Marco?"

He came out of his room and said, "Yes, sweetums." He stopped when he saw the quarterback and abruptly turned around. Nash ran after him and grabbed ahold of him, dragging him downstairs.

"Ow, Ow, Ow!" Nash shoved him towards us. "Geez dude takes a chill pill," he huffed.

"Marco, what have you been doing to this poor guy?" I asked him.

"I have done nothing!"

"Marco?" I gave him a look.

"Okay, maybe, I sort of told everyone he was a fudge packer," he rolled his eyes.

"What? Why?"

"He wouldn't go out with me," he said incredulously.

"He's not even gay! Why would he go out with you?"

"Because he's hot," he said emphatically.

"You think I'm hot?" I turned and looked at the quarterback. "You're not helping here."

"Sorry," the quarterback shrugged.

I turned and looked at Marco. "You can't keep going after people just because they don't go out with you."

"Do you know how hard it is for a gay man to get a date? It's hard. I haven't had sex in two years; two years," Marco said with a determined tone.

"Ew, gross," I replied, contorting my face. Marco looked at me. "I don't want to hear how you haven't had sex. I don't even like to hear when I have sex."

"Hey," Nash said, feeling offended.

"I love you."

"Blow me," he grumbled.

"Maggie, a guy has needs, and I have a lot of needs, and I can't get anyone to take care of my needs if you know what I mean?"

I sighed. "Unfortunately, I do. Although I wish I didn't."

"So, cut me some slack, will ya?"

"Then why don't you ask Jasper," I asked him, gesturing to Jasper.

"He's not my type."

"Wait. What?" I looked at him, confused.

"Jasper is not my type," he told me.

"Jasper is hot," I replied.

"Hey! Standing right here," Nash yelled as Jasper grinned.

"I still love you," I assured, looking at Nash.

"And you can still blow me," he glared at me.

"Okay, then what's your type?" It was a simple question until Nixon walked out of the kitchen, and Marco grabbed him, smashing his lips onto Nixon's, taking us all by surprise. That didn't bode well, considering Nixon broke free and hit Marco.

"What the hell is wrong with you? First, my brother, then you kiss me," he said, wiping his lips off.

Marco wiped the blood from his bottom lip. "What can I say I like emotional men?" He smirked, and Nixon was ready to hit him again until Nash stopped him.

"Marco? You can't keep going around kissing guys, especially straight ones?" I yelled at him.

"Fine," he huffed.

I turned to the quarterback. "Look, I'll make you a deal. I will help you get a date if you leave my idiot roommate alone."

He thought about it. "Okay." I smiled, then he said, "You can go out with me." My smile faded.

"I have a boyfriend."

"So?" He looked at me suggestively.

"So, that means she's taking," Nash said as he shoved him out of the house and slammed the door on him.

"So, is that a yes?" The quarterback yelled through the door.

Nash picked me up and carried me up to our room as I yelled, "Nash!"

"Hush, woman! You owe me!"

"I am not blowing you, you perv!"

He took us into our room and shut the door. The others looked at each other and went back into the kitchen. It has got to be the weirdest day ever.

A couple of days later, Nash took me to get my hand cast. I had to have it on for about six weeks, at least, and depending on how it healed would determine if it needed an additional two weeks.

Hopefully, I got it off in time for Halloween. That would suck to wear a cast. Although Nixon said, I could always go as Rocky Balboa. Jerk.

I need to stop breaking things, especially my bones. It's making my life more complicated than it needs to be, although difficulty wouldn't even explain what would happen when we got a surprise visit in the form of Nate and Pat.

I hope God can save us all.

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