Spanish Accent (The Accents #2)

Psychopath

We didn't manage to do anything until Thursday. It meant that we've lost three precious days but both me and Max were too busy to organize a session. But to my delight, when I looked out the window during my Thursday classes, I saw that it was raining. I momentarily dug out my phone and texted Max. He responded two classes later, saying he would be free by five. I decided it was okay, since the days were longer now and we should have almost two hours to take some good photos. I just hoped it wasn't going to stop raining until then.

The fate must have loved me today – or just wanted to make up for getting me stuck with the blue-eyed idiot. Whatever it was, it let the rain fall until five p.m. when we met under my apartment. Of course, Max arrived on his killing machine. I heard him before I saw him and frowned when he pulled on to where I was standing in the rain. I was pretty sure he was going to stop in a way that would make the water from the nearby puddle splash all over me but surprisingly, he didn't. Maybe he was done with my grumbling already. If so, I had to remember to do it more often.

Max took his sweet time getting off the bike and taking off his helmet – at least he wore one. Though knowing him, it was probably so that the water wouldn't destroy his perfect hairstyle. Which wasn't nearly so perfect, since it was styled in its constant state of an artful mess. Show off.

"Hey, chica." He grinned once his stupid face was revealed.

I rolled my eyes. "Stop acting like every second guy who tried to make himself sound Spanish after he discovered where I come from."

"Damn. Here goes my plan of trying to be original."

"Nothing about you is original, pretty boy." I said. "Now stop talking and let's get going before the rain decides to stop falling."

"Oh, so now we're acting like we know everything about each other?" He sounded amused. "Well, let me tell you about – Wait, where are you going?"

I was halfway to Abi's car when he realized I'd even moved. I didn't even turn around when I responded.

"I told you we didn't have much time. So stop talking and come on."

"Come on where?"

I sent him a bland look over my shoulder.

"I don't even want to think of a comeback, so I'll just ignore you." I said and resumed walking.

"You can't possibly think I'm going to get into that car with you, are you?"

I stopped. "Oh, I don't only think so. I know you're going to get into that car with me."

"No way." He sounded suspiciously serious. "You'd have to kill me and drag my dead body in there first."

In moments like this, I really wondered how this man's psychics worked.

"And what is so wrong with that car?" I asked, turning around and planting my hands on my hips firmly.

"Are you kidding me?" His eyes were wide. "This is an Alfa Romeo Giuilietta. A red one."

I raised a brow. "So?"

"So, never in my life will I offend my masculinity by sitting in a red Alfa Romeo Giulietta."

Scratch it. In moments like this, I didn't wonder how this man's psychics worked. It was his brain I was more concerned about.

"I doubt anything in this world could offend your masculinity." I replied. "Your ego wouldn't let it."

"You call it ego. I call it high self-esteem."