The Reputation Game

TWO: This might be interesting

©ReloadedShivers 2013

TWO: Get out of my face!

{Emma}

I glower at the group of girls in a red VW Golf who can't seem to stop bragging about me. Since I stopped my car next to theirs, waiting for the traffic lights to turn green their pink glosses mouths keept whispering stuff back and forth but it's not hard to realize who are they talking about since I heard the word 'Emma' at lest seven times. God damn it, just turn green already, help me to not get out of the car and punch them in those empty heads.

I recognize one of them from gym class. She's one of the girls who run as fast as a walking cow. Her name is Clara...or maybe Carla...or Cara...blaargh whatever. She looks like a sluttier version of Barbie with her fake platinum blonde hair and huge fake lashes. Her makeup must weight a toon.

However when the light finally turn green I stomp on the pedal and leave them behind starring at the little cloud of dust I made. Serves you right, bitches.

As I enter on of those super snobby neighborhoods I instantly get mesmerized by the huge houses and luxurious cars. My eyes widen as I see yellow Ferrari Enzo parked in front of a insanely big house. I can even see some guess walking around and searching for burglars. Who the hell are those people? I think this might be the non existent Christian Grey.

The Ferrari's headlights flash and my mouth opens and closes a few times like a goddamned gold fish. This car is my dream car. I'm serious, I do picture driving myself driving this thing. However what I didn't picture is the car moving from its place wanting to get on the road. I barely stop my car making an awful screeching sound and leaving black lines on the asphalt.

"Shiiiiit!" I yell as my car's spoiler hits the back of the Ferrari. I can't possibly have hit a million euro car. This is fucking insane. With all my badass attitude this situation made me want to run away and hide under a rock.

The driver stops the car and for almost a minute neither of us makes a move. I sit in my car freaked our and the unknown person behind the other car's steering wheel is probably planning my murder. Judging the house and the catalogue cars perked in front of it...he can kill me and and easily pay the caution. I really hope the owner it's not one of those rich bitches who get all melodramatic. Or a overly attached guy who treats the car like his girlfriend. An old, kind guy would be awesome.

After what seems like an eternity (How come there are no cars coming this way? Are those people from mafia? Oh shit.)the driver's door swings open and a man wearing a black leather jacket and ripped jeans gets out of the car. He walks toward me and stops next to my door, swinging it open. What I wasn't expecting it's the breath taking guy who leans over and looks me in the eyes. A black bandana is covering what must be his blonde hair. His face is emotionless. A pair of crayola blue eyes pins me to my chair making me unable to breath. God, when did I become all girly and mushy?

"Private road," he says in a impassive voice.

I gulp and turn around to see the 'private property' sign behind me. I must've been so mesmerized by the luxury of this place that I missed the sign. Great, you're very smart Emma Grace Coldwaters. If this dude wants me to pay for the damage I'll have to work three jobs for the next thirty years or so.

"I'm truly sorry. I got carried away by the surroundings," nausea hits me as speak to this stranger.

"People who get carried away shouldn't be drivers," his face and voice are still impassive but his hand grips my car's door so tight, his knuckles turned white. Now if I look better, his knuckles are split open like he's been into a fight. Uh, I got carried away again. Just what's happening to me?