UNscripted Memories

Chapter 4: Stubborn vs. Spoiled Brat

Gabe started acting when he was three years old for an England drama series after being discovered in a baby milk commercial, and from there on, his career went straight up. But it is still surprising that he hasn't been in a grocery store, not even for a movie shoot or commercials.

"I'm not some kind of barmy actor who acts anywhere just to get paid in cents." He comments.

I don't know if he commented on that not realising he insulted someone who is working his ass off or he really intended to do so. Gabe is too hard to figure out. It's his damn too good acting and incredibly handsome face that I don't sense the hint of his devilish attitude at first hand.

He puts the cereal bowl in the sink after he finishes eating and orders me to clean the dishes and change afterwards. I know I am living in his place for free, but he be more little kind when asking for favours? He bosses people around like we are some kind of servants, he doesn't know how to properly ask. I guess being in the show business cultivated him to be a spoiled brat.

After washing the dishes, I bathe and put in the clothes that Marianne, the brunette lady, bought for me right after I moved in to Gabe's place. She happens to be Gabe's stylish; she's in charge of everything that makes Gabe more attractive to people. "Shall we?" I ask Gabe.

He looks at me again with his frowning face, the same face he showed earlier when I asked him if he's cooking. "What are you wearing? We are going to the grocery store not in a club for you to dance like a maniac prostitute."

Could he be harsher than that? Distress shorts and spaghetti straps are not that bad, I guess?

"Go get change, I'll be waiting on the garage." He orders me like his talking to a brainless robot. "In case you've forgotten too, clothes cover our skin, not show them more."

He's being a total jerk. I know I've forgotten my past, but I think he's way out of line to insult me like that. I am not a prostitute and sure as hell, not a moron to forget what clothes supposed to be doing. I can't believe I have a crush on this guy! I may have been just deceived by his looks.

"No" I answer. "This is what I want to wear and you're not going to boss me around when it comes to my clothing. Let's go." I say solidly. If he's a spoiled brat, I am stubborn.

The look on his face begins to change. He looks like he have eaten some sort of sour fruit and couldn't contain the taste. I may have been the first person to tell him no. It feels good.

We arrived at the grocery store exactly noon. His mansion is too far from civilization. Brenda said he like a place of solitude where no cars or people disturbing him when his off from work. He put on some fake eye glasses and a hoodie to conceal his face from the public.

"Put this on." He hands me his spare jacket which is overly too big for my size. "I can't stand seeing you like that."

"I didn't know you are the conservative type." Here I am again, flirting with my words. What the hell is wrong with me? Why do I do this embarrassing acts on him when in fact, I don't like him of all people I've met.

He sighs, ignoring my flirty voice. That's good, I think. I mean, his obviously not into me, so whatever stupidness I try to do it won't work on him, saving me from my own mistake. "Be more considerate with the people around you. We all came here to enjoy our afternoon, we don't like our eyes burning because of your clothes. Don't ruin this day." He insults me.

I roll my eyes on him and walk out from his car, ignoring the jacket he handed over. I walk fast straight to the entrance door like I do not have a company behind me. I am too pissed at him that I can't walk with him.