❝I think you're my favorite person.❞
- - -
Since childhood, Lila's had her mind set on what she wants. And now in her senior year, that's getting into West Michigan State University. But her overbearing...
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"YOU NEVER DID answer my question," I say as Chase looks down at his menu.
We're currently sitting in the booth of a diner that Chase practically dragged me to. And I mean that literally. One second I was sitting on my bed, and the next he was forcing me out the door.
He glances up at me and raises an eyebrow. "Which question? You ask a lot, Matthews."
I shrug, "Can't help it. I'm made of questions,"I inform him. "but I'm talking about the fact that you're rich."
"That's an assumption, not a question," he says matter-of-factly. I debate whether or not flipping him off in such a public place would be a good idea or not.
I decide against it, and say, "Fine. Let me rephrase: Are. You. Rich?"
He shrugs lazily, "There are many different meanings to—"
"You know what? Forget I asked," I grumble, looking away from his smirk. Smart-ass. Out of the corner of my eye I can see the waitress coming to take our orders.
"What can I get started for you guys?" She asks, we order and she bobs her head, writing it down. Then she lets us know it'll be out shortly and twists on her heel.
"I'm not rich, Matthews," Chase says, drumming his fingers against the table, once the waitress has left. "I got my car myself. And it took a long damn time."
I nod my head, kind of disappointed by this discovery. Not to be a gold digger, but having a rich fake boyfriend would be pretty fun.
A curious expression takes over his face. "Hey, I have a question for you," he challenges, leaning forward into the table. "Where'd you live before here?"
I freeze almost instantly. I look up quickly, hoping and praying he doesn't see my change in behavior. But with the way his brows are furrowed I hardly believe my own convincing.
I clear my throat. "The...south." I know I'm being suspicious. I know that if I don't give him a real answer he'll continue to be curious. But I can't. I just can't.
"The south?" He says, amusement in his eyes. "Did you talk like this, darlin'?" He says with a southern accent.
I cover my eyes with my hands. "Oh, god, please stop."
"You don't think my accent is bangin'?" I cringe at his words and immediately shake my head.
"That is not an accent. That's a disgrace to society."
