𝐃𝐄𝐋𝐈𝐂𝐀𝐓𝐄 ★ pedri gonzález

𝙘𝙝𝙖𝙥𝙩𝙚𝙧 𝙛𝙤𝙪𝙧𝙩𝙚𝙚𝙣, pedri

❝ i don't get angry when i'm pissed. ❞
⇄ ◃◃   ⅠⅠ   ▹▹ ↻

"Disculpe? (Excuse me?)" I almost spit out.

"Are you an idiot? Or are you just deaf?" She stares up at me, sitting on the other side of the table.

"No. I heard you perfectly fine." I just never thought she'd say yes. I felt pretty dumb after last night. I couldn't sleep because of it. What the hell infected my head to make me ask her to be my fake girlfriend.

I came down here with the purpose of telling her to forget about it and I was just kidding. Then I'd cry myself to sleep knowing I'd never get a fake girlfriend.

But apparently, I woke up in some alternate universe where Olive has lost her mind and accepted my offer. Or, I'm just still asleep.

"Are you telling me you're an idiot, you idiot?" She presses her lips together, narrowing her eyes. If this is a dream it sucks. If it in fact is an alternate dimension, I'm disappointed in science.

"Fucking hell, Olive. Stop it." I let out an exasperated sigh. I sit down on the chair facing her before we really get to the talking.

"What? You annoyed by me, idioto?" I watch her smirk, mocking me. She doesn't let her guard down and completely ignores my ask of her to stop it.

"Of course I am! You annoy the shit out of me Larsen but I could never get rid of you so stop it and tell me what the fuck made you say yes." I snap, wanting her to take me serious for at least half a second.

She throws her head back and shakes with laughter. I guess asking her something is too much and everything's a joke with her. I watch her as she keeps on laughing.

However, I notice her laugh isn't actually a laugh. She doesn't seem to be laughing out of humor. It's more of a forced one, an exhausted one.

She finally calms down after a whole minute. She presses her hands against her face, rubbing her eyes. "That tone doesn't work with me Pedri." She looks me right in the eyes, all laughing gone. Her stare feels like she just keeps on going more and more into my soul, tearing it apart bit by bit. "Just because you raise your voice, doesn't mean I'll listen to your demands." She straightens her back, crossing her arms in front of her, leaving her breakfast on the table to go bad. "Don't ever yell at me again González. Or I swear to God you'll regret the day that mother of yours gave birth to you." She threatens.

I avoid eye contact, looking down, because honestly I'm actually scared shit of that Goddamn woman and sometimes I just don't think before speaking.

"Look at me. I'm not gonna fucking kill you." She orders and unlike her, I listen to orders. "Yet, at least." She adds not calming me down one bit. "This," She points back in forth in between us. "isn't gonna work if you don't get yourself together." What does she mean by get myself together? She's the one mocking me for no absolute reason when I'm trying to be reasonable.

"Myself is more than together." I defend, my ego making me because I know she's gonna yell at me again.

"That's not even a correct English sentence, banana boy. Stop arguing for the sake of doing it. We can argue later if you want to, I love doing it. Just listen to me for now." I honestly don't get this woman. A minute ago she was threatening me, a minute before she was calling me an idiot, now she suddenly wants to be all serious. Women are the most mysterious people ever and Olive Larsen especially.

I let out a sigh, calming down. I haven't exactly been the most relaxed person these last few days. "I'm all ears, aceituna."

She's looking at me, her elbows on the isle, holding her head. She honestly looks exhausted. Not physically. Her eyes don't look tired and she's perfectly fine postured. On the other hand, she just doesn't seem okay. Maybe she's overwhelmed, still not used to Spain.