A Match Made in Hell

57

"Come on, just leave." I complain, rolling my eyes and trying to push him away but groaning loudly to myself when I fail.

"I'm not going anywhere." He shakes his head. "I'm standing right fucking here, I don't care how long it takes."

"Aiden, you're not my personal bodyguard." I whisper to him, trying my best to drag him out. "If he saw you in here again he'd probably call the cops again and beat your ass."

"Fuck that, I can run." He shrugs, slapping my hands away. "Go back to work, I'll be waiting right fucking here."

"You're so stubborn." I say to him, my accent sticking out way too much when I do.

I have a point though, don't I? He's stubborn as fuck, doesn't matter if it's a compliment or a flaw. He's extremely fucking stubborn and it can be so annoying sometimes.

He grins at me once I walk away, celebrating to himself that he won this argument. Not next time, Armstrong. I will get you.

Another one of the waiters snaps her finger in my face, angrily telling me to serve another family of fat obeses who sit in the corner of the diner.

The waitress seems to be my age, maybe a year or two older. She's always rude for some reason, I can never seem to tell why.

Just then, a door slams open, every fucking person in the place gasps and turns their head, the look on randy's face scares me. God, it's 8 in the morning.

He suddenly walks up to me, pulling at my collar and almost picking me up off my feet by my shirt.

"Did you bring this motherfucker in here?" He whispers into my ear. I flinch at the sudden madness in his voice.

"I'm sorry, I—"

He cuts me off, putting me back down onto my feet and running to aiden instead, but he doesn't seem scared, not in the tiniest bit.

He's not bothered at all, like a blind person that can't see a crowd of gangsters approaching them to beat the living soul out of them.

I trail off, watching them in fear of what may happen next. The look on aiden's face is what scares me the most, the manipulation and unbothered act, which will drive Randy crazy, and everybody fucking knows that, what was aiden doing?

For the love of god, Armstrong, use your motherfucking brain. I chant in my head, hoping he'll actually take a hint by looking at me but he doesn't even glance at anything else other than Randy.

a hand is lifted into the air, Randy's, about to slap aiden across the face. I cringe, shutting my eyes but opening them again in confusion.

Nothing happened. Aiden stands still with randy's wrist in his hand, yanking it away back as he stares into his soul, it even freaks me out.

Scratch that, everything freaks me out.

He tries again, swinging his fist this time. He doesn't flinch again, not once, holding randy's fist angrily, slapping it away, not seeming bothered.

"Get the fuck out, Armstrong." Randy spits out angrily, keeping his voice down and trying to stay calm.

"Go back to whatever the fuck you were doing, I'm not leaving." Aiden says dryly, blinking at Randy casually.

"I'll call the motherfucking cops on you again." He threatens. "Get the fuck out of here and never come back, I will not see your face again, never."

"Try me." Aiden chews on the gum in his mouth aggressively, still not seeming bothered at all. "You're threatening me now? You'll call the cops on me? Motherfucker, I'll send you to jail for pedophilia."