The Girlfriend Audition ~L.H~

Chapter 3

I check my phone once again just to make sure that it's the right time - three o'clock. I glance at the large Starbucks sign above the door and walk in, praying that Luke will actually show up. For all I know, considering how much of an asshole he acted like yesterday, I don't doubt that he'd probably ditch our 'date'. Lucky for me, I spot him sitting at the back corner of the franchise, in front of a large window. I sit down across from him and take a deep breath. I want to start off on the right foot this time, I don't need a re-do of yesterday.

"Hey," I greet. He just nods and continues looking out the window. "How was your day?" I try. He shrugs so I decide to continue. "My day was good, I woke up at around ten and then when I was having breakfast my roommate decided it would be hilarious to put hot sauce in my cereal, her name is Isabella by the way, but I call her Izzy, anyways-"

"Can you shut up?" he groans. This time he looks at me and I can't help but notice his red-rimmed eyes and rumpled clothes. "You're annoying voice is only making my headache worsen."

"Late night out last night?" I guess. He doesn't answer and I realize that he probably went out and got hammered. "I thought Mr. Wilkinson said that you were supposed to stop doing things like that."

"My manager can suck it, and it's none of your business."

"It isn't, but part of my job is to make you look good, and how am I supposed to do that when you look like you got ran over by a truck." He scoffs and stands up, leaving me at the table. I panic for a few seconds thinking he is going to just abandon our 'date' until I realize he's heading towards the counter. He comes back a few seconds later with a drink in his hand. He notices me looking at his empty hand and raises an eyebrow.

"Go get your own drink," he smirks. "This isn't a real date, so I'm not getting you anything."

I shake my head slightly with an unimpressed look on my face. I guess chivalry is dead. I look away and outside the window, where people are walking down the sunny streets of Los Angeles - many of them look like tourists with their large hats and sunglasses milling about with comfortable and happy looks on their faces.

"Aren't you gonna get anything?" He asks when he sees that I'm not leaving the table.

I shake my head. "How could I possibly eat while having to look at your face? Do you want me to throw up?"

"Funny," he says dryly.

"Forgive me for having a sense of humour."

"You really don't," he snorts and I scoff. "But maybe you should throw up, I mean, you could kind of lose some weight." My mouth drops open.

"What the hell did you just say to me?" I ask quietly hoping that I heard him wrong.

"Didn't you hear me the first time? I told you to lose some weight." He doesn't even glance at me as he says this and I instantly feel like gouging his eyeballs out of their sockets. Anger curses through me.

"You are a fucking asshole you prick."

He smirks, "Such vulgar words coming from such a pretty mouth."

I ball my hands into fists and bite my lip to keep from screaming at him. I can't believe he just said that to me. I stand up but before I can leave the table he speaks up.

"If you leave me here, you do know that you are going to get fired right?"

I try to keep my voice in check, "I am going to the washroom."

"Don't take too long sweetheart," his voice drips with sarcasm. "I'm going to miss you."

I enter the washroom and lean against the door as soon as I close it. I feel like punching something - anything - so I instead slam my foot on the wall.