Not Your Typical Love Story

Chapter Nine

Bianca

"Bianca! Hurry the fuck up!"

"Fuck off, you dipshit!"

Ah yes, the normal Saturday morning pleasantries.

It's been perhaps half an hour since he's come in my house without permission, where five minutes later, my mother abandoned me to the abomination that currently stood downstairs being an annoying jerk. After convincing me to go out on an outing with him - more like threatening to tattle on me to my mom like a little third grade bitch - I went upstairs to begin changing and getting ready for our decided destination: the mall.

But here we are, half an hour later with Chase's yells grating on my nerves and me with the growing urge to throw a brick at him - maybe several bricks, even. I'm rushing to do as best as I can while I work with his impatient nature, having already thrown my hairbrush down at him earlier as a warning for him to shut up. The brush hit its target, but if anything, Chase had only been encouraged to be even more obnoxious.

It's at least the seventh time Chase has complained about the time I'm taking, and about the thirtieth time we've exchanged insults and profanity. It's been only twenty minutes, for god's sake. Chill your nonexistent tits.

I cut him off from making one of his stupid comments as I bound down the stairs, pretty much presentable. I glare at him as soon as he comes into view, walking past where he'd stationed himself at the bottom of the stairs to get to the hall mirror. "I swear to god, Chase, I will punch in that pretty little face of yours," I huff as I check my reflection one last time.

I didn't have enough time to do my hair, so it's still a little wavy and all over the place, but it will have to do. My usual ripped jeans are on, high waisted and classically black. My top is a little tight, shows my stomach, and topped with that of a bomber jacket.

Not half bad for someone who looked like a couch potato twenty minutes earlier.

"Think I'm hot, huh?" Chase comments childishly as he steps behind me, making eye contact through the mirror. He wiggles his eyebrows and smirks like a dumb preteen boy.

I roll my eyes and scoff, moving around my hair to try and tame it as I give him a flat look through the mirror.

"First of all," I begin, spinning on my heel to face him. "That's not what I even said. And secondly, that was most definitely not the point." I push past him to get to the front door, shoving my phone into the small over-the-shoulder bag I'd grabbed from upstairs.

"Same difference," Chase shrugged, grinning like it was some inside joke.

"My car or yours?" I asked, ignoring the smirk that sat on his features. It's not like I hadn't seen the expression before, though I definitely hadn't seen it as often in the past few years.

"Mine," he replies, lifting the car keys up in the air, the different keys jingling as he shook them for emphasis.

I nodded in response, turning away to make our way outside. He doesn't follow my footsteps, halting back at where I'd left him. I hold back a laugh as I theorize the reason, shaking my head a little.

"Chase," I say sweetly, opening up the front door and pausing in the doorway to turn back. "I know I'm hot, but please, I don't need you checking me out."