Can I Win Mr.Anti-Woman? #JustWriteIt

Chapter 20: Dazed?

Chapter 20: Dazed?

"Hey, lose your grip Braffoon!"

Okay, I managed to grow some balls right after my face ended up smashing against Brandon's hard chest. I managed to snap from my daze when I heard a whistle coming from the small prying crowd that seemed to surround us. It turned out that Davis just passed by us with a snickering Mandii.

Betrayers. I thought to myself.

I glared at their retreating figures with a menacing scowl on my face. I could hear their snickers from afar. I turned away from their direction and back to Brandon - who was too horrified to move a muscle. He kept staring at me with a wide eyed expression.

"Brandon," I squawked as I used my free hand to pull his hair.

He immediately jerked away, roughly pushing me to the side, "Ow! What was that for?!" He complained.

Good enough I was able to balance myself from unexpected push. Because if I did fall, not only will I embarrass myself any further, I will more likely be pissed off again. Definitely I do not want to frown again, and absolutely not to the rest of day. Trust me, It is definitely not a pretty sight to see a wrinkled looking Dianne where ever she goes.

"Braffoon, can you gently set a girl aside? I mean, we aren't made out of plastic but we," I gestured to myself, with the use of both my arms to flow up and down over my body, "people, tend to get injured too you know." I said in a 'duh' tone.

"I know that, Dianne." He said it in a boring tone. "And, Braffoon? What kind of nickname is that?" He asked, slightly cocking his head to the side with one eye squinting to emphasize confusion.

I rolled my eyes in response. Brandon still seemed a tad bit confused. "Bra for Brandon. Foon for baffoon. Bra plus foon equals Braffoon. Get it?" I sassed, getting ready to saunter off somewhere else. I noticed that we weren't attracting much attention anymore. Those people who hung out not long ago, have already walked away. No more judging, no more pointing. Those prying people were out of the vicinity.

For some odd reason, I couldn't stop noticing a mother struggling to shut her son's mouth as she held him closely; clamping his mouth shut with the use of her slightly chubby fingers.

The child kept flailing as he laughed profusely. The child's eyes made contact with mine and I wondered why a small giggle escaped his lips, followed by a louder set of guffaws. I arched a brow. Is he laughing? What is he laughing abou--

"Mommy! Mommy! Look, that girl was the one I was talking about! She has poo stuffed on her shirt!"

My face flushed red and both of my hands started to grab my upper part of my dress.

"Maybe she pooped with her mouth!" The child said, laughing again. The mom gave me a look that said she was sorry and carried her child away.

Foie gras. Wet, and chewed foie gras!

Behind me, someone laughed. It was annoying, playful and it sounded like Brandon himself. "You knew about this?!" I squawked, a surging rage heating up.

Once he saw I was all mad again, he immediately killed his laughter. "Hey, I did tell you there was something on the corners of your mouth." He raised his hand in surrender.

"But you did not tell me about the poop looking splotch on my dress!" I whispered-yelled. Last thing I want is to gather more and more witnesses to see a very, very gross looking stain on a cute outfit!

He looked down, guilt taking over his features. We stood there for a couple of minutes. I glanced over my watch, heaving and still steaming out my anger. I exhaled out an annoyed sigh, it was still one forty-nine pm.