Chapter 1:

Ayenne Peppers, Bryan Gil and Christina

HoneyBalls Writing Club: A HoneyFeed Romantic Comedy


Do I like what I see? Did she seriously just ask me that?

Once upon a time — long before I was a first-year at Honey High School — I read a self-help book. The title completely evades my memory at this point since I’m not Darren Chong from Gifted Education Project, but what I do remember is that it was a sort of teaching aid (with examples) for socially anxious kids to make friends.

Lesson One: First impressions are important!

As that thought rang throughout my mind, I went through all the possible outcomes of my interaction with Ayenne like a supercomputer. Beep boop beep. Doot doot. If I wanted to be even funnier and quote a specific pop culture reference like the witty, funky author I am (check me out on HoneyFeed: I’m BlipXP), I might have even said I was Dr. Strange checking out all the possible 14,000,605 futures.

Heheheh. Oh my GOD! I’m so FUCKING FUNNY!

“You’re cute and your boobs are huge,” I blurted.

“What?”

“Ah, oops.”

Shit. That was not what I wanted to say at all. It was meant to go more like this:

“Ayenne Peppers, you are the finest maiden I have ever laid eyes upon.”

“H-huh?”

As the spring wind blew and sakura petals danced, I swept Ayenne off her feet with my manly, girthy arms.

“Where are you taking me?” she asked.

“Somewhere.”

“Somewhere?”

“It’s not important,” I said, and then I carried her into the sunset.

For a brief moment, her expression was one of worry — but within seconds, the heat of desire soon overcame her as well. She closed her eyes, pressed her face into my thick, cut, tight, masculine Spanish chest, and then she sensually whispered:

“Did you just say my boobs were huge?”

“...What might you be talking about?”

She narrowed her eyes into deadly slits. “Listen, Alex. You’re lucky that you’re a pervert, otherwise I would’ve slapped you already.”

“Huh? How does that make any sense?”

“You’d enjoy it. Do you think I’m dumb?”

Shit. But how did she know?!

Heaving a sigh, Yenn pointed at the sign of the room we were about to enter. HoneyBalls Writing Club. It had a sweaty, stanky ring to it. On the sign were two chibi girls, one with yellow hair and the other purple, both of them possessing bee butts and bee wings. Very cute.

“I was trying to ask you if you liked the typography on the sign,” Ayenne asked. “Not if you like me.”

“...Oh. Yeah, I mean, it’s alright. I think you’re way hotter than whoever those mascots are, though. Couldn’t they have at least made them older?”

“...”

Yenn opened the door with more force than I thought was necessary, sending it vibrating as it slammed onto the doorstop. Which makes me think: do girls feel good down there when they go on a road trip and it’s really bumpy?

[SYSTEM: WARNING. TENSE CHANGE. YOU SLIPPED FROM PAST TO PRESENT TENSE.]

Hey, who the fuck are you? Get out of my story!

[SS IS NOT SUPERSESSION.]

“Alex,” Ayenne said, grabbing the sleeve of my school uniform. “T-these are the other members of HoneyBalls.”

First, she pointed at a quiet kid hunched away in a corner banging out sentences on an ASUS laptop. Every two or three words, though, he would start looking around the room looking for literally anything else to do aside from writing. His hair was jet-black, and he wore a blue nametag that read “Miko-chan… I’m about to cum inside…”

I made eye contact with him and waved, but instead of waving back, the Asian guy blushed and turned his back on me. Seconds later, he revealed himself again and smiled, his nametag now magically transformed to one that read “Gilgameshuu”.

“That’s Bryan Gil,” Ayenne said. “We just call him Gil, though.”

“Not ‘Miko-chan, I’m cumming inside’?”

“...”

“Not ‘Miko-chan, I’m cumming inside’?”

Ayenne then pointed at another person. This time—

[SYSTEM: WARNING. YOU ARE ABOUT TO INTRODUCE MORE THAN TWO CHARACTERS IN THIS SCENE. ARE YOU SURE?]

Uh, yeah? I feel like they’re distinct enough.

[OKAY, BUT I’M GOING TO LEAVE A GENERIC PIECE OF FEEDBACK TELLING YOU NOT TO DO THAT. IT’S NOT LIKE I ACTUALLY READ PEOPLE’S WORKS WHEN I READ TRADE WITH THEM. HAHA.]

“Alex? Why do you keep zoning out?”

“¿Qué?”

I realised I didn’t actually know the answer to Ayenne’s question. Was I becoming a schizophrenic, like Mizuhara Kohei from Why I Write? Or was this a memory loss plot like (redacted due to spoilers)?

“...Okay, nevermind. Anyway, that’s Christina over there.”

“Terrable,” said Christina.