‘We need to talk’ is the most overused phrase in the English Language. If that phrase needed any advertisement, it would go like this: “Need to breakup with your boyfriend? Start the conversation with the useful phrase ‘We need to talk’! Is your child not doing well enough at school or is your husband cheating on you? Rely on the ever-useful phrase ‘We need to talk’! Used in all the hot new romantic movies and endorsed by the greatest actors of our time! Best of all, it’s absolutely free!*” *Varying emphasis may lead to misunderstanding. The English Language is not responsible for any damages caused by misuse. Please read instructions carefully before use.
Just who did he think he was? He couldn’t just waltz (or, in his case, walk sexily like one of those models) into my room after wrongfully occupying my basement and demand that we negotiate. As far as I was concerned, occupying my territory (read basement) was an open act of war and I was unwilling to work out a peace treaty.
I moved to slam the door in his face but his foot was in the way. “Go away!” I growled.
“Oh, c’mon. I don’t get why you’re so mad at me.”
His face was inches from mine. And he really was hot. His hair was so black that it was almost blue and a few sharp spikes drooped forward to fall in his eyes. His skin was tanned like he spent all day at the beach and he probably worked out or something because I could feel his immense strength as leant against the door, even though I knew he was holding back. His eyes were black but they shone a dull red as the light fell on them and sparked with amusement…Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad having him around.
Stop it, Ally. Focus. This guy stole your basement. Your basement. You deserve revenge.
I smiled sweetly up t his face. He relaxed a little. Big mistake. “ ‘Cos you’re a jerk for stealing my basement. That’s why,” I said and kicked the exposed part of his shin hard. He withdrew his foot quickly and I slammed the door shut. I could hear him outside. He was probably jumping up and down (I could feel the thumps vibrate through the floor) and muttered unintelligible curses. Rover whined and yelped. At least now I was sure that it was a dog and not a horse.
I picked up a piece of paper and scrawled a few words on it with a red felt tip pen. I slid it under the door where I knew Jack would find it. It read: ‘THIS MEANS WAR!’
YOU ARE READING
The Apocalypse (A Parody)
Paranormal"There are two things you do not do to a teenaged, slightly book crazed (okay, maybe not slightly), Romantic (with a capital R) girl. These are not in any guide book on any bookshelf in any part of the world." I have a lot to deal with right now...
