What can I say? You're gorgeous. --Gorgeous, Taylor Swift
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"Won't you let me in?", asks the annoying guy standing on my porch, and leans close to me.
"No.", was my curt reply, and I slammed the door on him.
His hand stopped me from closing it, and good golly, was he strong! My flushed cheeks would give my anger away, as he was so close to my face earlier.
Why, oh why, did he have such beautiful eyes?
"I won't be moving from here.", he states.
I can almost hear the smirk in his voice. Guys with sexy smirks...... We've gotta kill 'em all.
"Good.", I say.
I open the door just a little bit more, and his smirk widens even more.
He removes his foot, and was about to come in.
If I didn't slam it in his face.
Hmp! Serves you right!
"If you don't come out, I'll tell the press where you live, Natalie Summers.", his taunting voice from outside clearly heard.
I just moved in this apartment and I'll move out again? Not bloody likely.
Urgh...... What an--! I just can't express my hate.
It may seem petty to most people, but moving is hard work. For those who've never moved to anywhere else in their life, I promise, it costs you a hell lot of money and patience.
Why can't they just focus on some other celebrity drama?
Just because I might have arrived here, in Beverly Hills, to stay for how long, they decide to meddle in my peaceful life.
The ringing stopped. Now, the guy resorted to banging on my door.
My poor apartment.
"If you still, don't----- Oh."
I turn at the sound of the door opening. He mirrored the same surprised expression on my face, before a corner of his lips turned up into a smirk.
Stupid, stupid me.
I didn't lock the damn door. Excuse my French.
I open my mouth to yell at him, but stopped. I shouldn't get so worked up. Besides, he'll keep bugging me.
It's better to talk to him once then he'll leave. Right?
He'll rather see me so flustered all over him. This'll show him.
I'll just act as if I don't care. And I don't.
I head to my kitchen to get a glass of water.
Just own case I need to throw the water at his face.
Of course he follows me.
Once I sat, I decided to get this whole stupid thing over. He stood in front of me with that stupid, sexy smirk.
Ugh.
"What do you want?", I ask, not even bothering to hide the disdain in my voice.
I raised the glass to my lips, and glare at him. I decided to drain the glass of its contents.
Maybe that wasn't such a good idea.
"You."
The water I was drinking and was flowing down my throat, somehow was able to get back at out and spray across his face.
YOU ARE READING
The Art Of Movement
Teen Fiction『 I don't dance. 』 At least, not anymore. Dancing was a huge part of me, like my parents and my siblings were. I loved dancing, I really did. Dancing wasn't just a way to express for me, it was also away to be able to move my body gracefully, or t...
