The Emo, The Sparkly Vampire and the Biscuit.

Chapter Four Part Two - Invitations for Shoe-Shoe

Chapter 4.2 – Invitations for Shoe-Shoe

The next morning, when I pulled into the parking lot, I deliberately parked as far as possible from the silver Volvo. I didn't want to put myself in the path of too much temptation and end up owing him a new car. Getting out of the cab, I fumbled with my key and it fell into a puddle at my feet. As I bent to get it, a white hand flashed out and grabbed it before I could. I jerked upright. I screamed out, thinking I had supernatural abilities and had grown a spare pair of hands (again) it was Eduardo Doritos he was right next to me, leaning casually against my truck.

"How do you do that?" I asked in amazed irritation and why couldn’t I do it, I could never keep hold of a bottle, never mind catch it. (Maybe this is why Tom Cruise, got the job on the movie Cocktail,)

"Do what?" He held my key out as he spoke. As I reached for it, he dropped it into my palm.

"Appear out of thin air."

"Stella, it's not my fault if you awe exceptionally unobsewvant." His voice was quiet as usual velvet, muted.

I scowled at his perfect face. His eyes were light again today, a deep, golden honey colour. Then I had to look down, to reassemble my now-tangled thoughts.

"Why the traffic jam last night?" I demanded, still looking away. "I thought you were supposed to be pretending I don't exist, not irritating me to death."

"That was for Mowgans’s sake, not mine. I had to give him his chance." He snickered.

"You…" I gasped. I couldn't think of a bad enough word. Even though I had a number of good ones, none of them quite captured how I felt. It felt like the heat of my anger should physically burn him, or drown him, but he only seemed more amused.

"And I'm not pwetending you don't exist," he continued.

"So you are trying to irritate me to death? Since Morgan’s’s van didn't do the job?"

Anger flashed in his tawny eyes. His lips pressed into a hard line, all signs of humour gone, I love it when he gets all pouty.

"Stella, you are uttewly absuwd," he said, his voice low, cold and sexy.

My palms tingled I wanted him so badly. I was surprised at myself. I was usually a nonviolent person, usually...alright maybe 30% of the time, unless someone was trying to steal my drink. I turned my back and started to walk away.

"Wait," he called. I kept walking, sloshing angrily through the rain. But he was next to me, easily keeping pace.

"I'm sowwy, that was wude," he said as we walked. I ignored him. "I'm not saying it isn't twue," he continued, "but it was wude to say it, anyway."

"Why won't you leave me alone?" I grumbled.

"I wanted to ask you something, but you sidetwacked me," he chuckled. He seemed to have recovered his good humour.

"Do you have a multiple personality disorder?" I asked severely.

"You'we doing it again."

I sighed." Fine then. What do you want to ask and it better not have anything to do with my hipflask?" I said giving him an evil I will bite look.

"I was wondewing if, a week from Saturday you know, the day of the spwing dance"

"Are you trying to be funny?" I interrupted him, wheeling toward him. My face got drenched as I looked up at his expression...I’d definitely need a hot whiskey after this.

His eyes were wickedly amused, I drooled inwardly. "Will you please allow me to finish?"

I bit my lip and clasped my hands together, interlocking my fingers, so I couldn't do anything rash, like clobber him with the flask. (I had to think about my flasks feeling too) the pain was so good.