𝐃𝐄𝐋𝐈𝐂𝐀𝐓𝐄 ★ pedri gonzález

𝙘𝙝𝙖𝙥𝙩𝙚𝙧 𝙨𝙞𝙭𝙩𝙮 𝙨𝙞𝙭, olive

❝ got the wine for you. ❞
⇄ ◃◃ ⅠⅠ ▹▹ ↻

Pedri comes rushing into my room, he doesn't knock nothing. I ought to kill this man one of these days.

Good thing he didn't come in a minute earlier because I just removed my clothes to put on my pajamas and am only in my underwear.

He's not seeing me naked tonight. Sorry to disappoint.

He shuts the door close behind him, he seems panicked as he turns around and faces me, about to say something but his mouth closes itself looking at my chest.

He tries not to smirk or anything arrogant but he's clearly failing. If anything Pedri has that is big, — besides the obvious — is his ego.

"Nice undergarments." I'm surprised he knows the word undergarment, I imagine it to be too sophisticated for a man like him.

I raise a brow, giving him my go-die look along with my seriously? look. "Get out, learn to knock and then you can come in." I tell him.

"Fine, I'll knock next time. But, listen-" He's over the subject and is now being a tiny bit mature by ignoring my absence of clothes.

Except I'm not done with it. "Do I look like I'm kidding, Pedro?" I place my hands over my hips, waiting for him to do as I order.

"Damn it, Larsen." He hisses, rolling his eyes as he heads out the door to repeat the process again. I'm not living with an irrespecutful guy and am certainly not bringing him home without the slightest bit of manners in him.

He knocks on the door again. "Can I come in, Mrs. Olive?" He asks from the other side, trying to be funny.

I am removing my bra, putting on my pajamas as I answer him. "Just a second. And it's Mrs. Larsen El Helou." I correct his very unfunny attempt at mocking me.

Buttoning up the shirt, I let him come in. He does and tries not to act annoyed by my stunt. I should be the annoyed one. Not him, that little bastard.

"We have a problem." He starts up, ignoring the little scene. Just wanting to forget about it. I swear to God if he ever tries to dismiss me like that again, I will kick him in the nuts.

But, let's ignore that for now and see what the banana boy wants now. "No, you have a problem. I have an idiot who keeps getting into problems." I answer, closing in the last button of my pink silk pajamas.

"Olive, seriously." He presses his lips together, sighing.

"Fine. Just, give me a second, I'm not drunk enough for this shit yet." I turn around and take the wine glass I've put myself off of the desk, taking a huge gulp before turning to him again. "Okay. Now, what's up?"

He ignores this too, and focuses on his problem. "I have no idea what to pack. And we have absolutely zero strategy or plan as to however things are going tomorrow."

"This is your problem!?" I ask, genuinely intrigued. I don't know if I thought it'd be far more lame or far more interesting. Like, maybe we ran out of bananas or he's got an STD.

"Olive. You've got to realize I've never had a girlfriend before, let along met someone's family." He presses. "We've got to at least get our stories straight so we can be on the same page the rest of the week."