Parties and late night drunken states meant everything when it came to Clover Paige; especially if it meant leaving her wild thoughts behind and losing herself in a bottle of Jack Daniels. Her name is just an illusion, you would think anyone named C...
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"Pleasure's a sin, and sometimes, sin's a pleasure." — LORD BRYON, a Scottish poet
WESTON WAS AT A DILEMMA.
The man sighed in annoyance, wanting to grab a chunk of his dark, brown hair and yank it out. His hands gripped the steering wheel tighter, the skin around his knuckles growing whiter by the second.
"You look like you're about to have the shits."
That, that was the reason why he had the strong urge to drive his car off the road and into a light-post. Weston gritted his teeth whilst he debated on what to do. He had two viable options here: 1. He could continue dealing with the nuisance of a person sitting in the passenger seat or 2. Pull over to the side of the highway and dump her there.
Clover rolled her tongue across the surface of her top teeth, smirking at the fact that she was driving him up a wall.
"What's the matter, big boy?" She tauntingly said, playing with a strand of her wavy locks. Clover bit her tongue to refrain from giggling. "Am I annoying you?"
"Yes, Yes you are. So please shut the fuck up!" He all but yelled out, frustrated that the woman near him would not comply with his demands.
Clover faked a gasp and put a hand over her heart. "Wow, I am hurt, Tic Tac, I truly am." She shook her head before letting it hang low. "And to think this was the beginning of a blossoming friendship."
"Stop calling me that."
"Calling you what?"
Weston shot a look at her. "You know what I'm talking about."
"I actually don't, care to elaborate?" Clover asked, secretly loving the way she got under his skin. This was going to be one hell of a ride, she thought.
"You do realize I have a gun on me, right?" Weston reminded her, hoping that would get her to stop speaking. He felt belittled by her and didn't like how damaging she was to his ego.
Clover smiled sickly. "Sweet. Put me out of my misery."
"You're nuts." He responded as the car came to a smooth stop. They were at an intersection, waiting for their light to turn green before proceeding.
She snorted. "Says the man who just murdered someone."
Weston titled his neck, the veins protruding from underneath the skin. They stood out in the dimly lit car, his tanned flesh somehow still shining. He found himself reaching over to the radio station, flicking it on and then turning the volume up to an obnoxiously loud set.
