Your Loyal Servant

(16) Savior?

When I saw her, I knew I needed to avoid her at all costs. If it were possible, I would've taken another route. But I couldn't, and I was forced to walk by her. But she decided instead to ram into me, making me stumble, and she skipped off, her and her lemmings laughing.

I glared after her, wishing someone would trip her so she'd land on her face and mess it up for the rest of her life. I grinned almost evilly at the thought.

"You okay?" Selma, who had seen the entire incident, asked, looking at me in concern. Either she was worried I was injured or that I was insane.

Once my grin disappeared, I turned back and marched on, answering, "I'm great. Wanna know why? Because today is a great day."

Her eyebrow quirked, since she couldn't tell if I was being sarcastic or not. She asked, hesitant, "Why is today a great day?"

"You know it's gonna be great when it starts with Bianca Russox running into you."

She released a sigh when she knew I was being sarcastic. She whipped out her cell phone and fell into her seat, ending our conversation.

Once Apple saw me, she rushed up to me and grabbed my hands. She demanded in a loud whisper, "You have to tell me everything."

Her weekend consisted of parties for her parents' business associates, so there was no time to call me for the lengthy description of my date with Brick. Which meant she'd get the abridged version.

She clung to me as I moved towards my desk. When I sat down, she plopped herself on top of my desk and stared intently at me. She looked like she was about to blow if I didn't start talking.

I held my hands up in surrender and told her, "He drove me to the botanical gardens in his Mustang convertible, and there, we just walked around, talking about random things. At one point, he plucked a rose and stuck it behind my ear, saying, 'A beautiful rose, for my beautiful Rose.' Afterwards, he took me out for gelato before taking me back home a little before eleven. He walked me to the door and we said goodnight."

Apple just gawked blankly at me, until she shook herself from her doze and asked, "Wasn't there any holding hands or kissing?"

As I folded my arms across my chest, I shrugged. I offered, "He did put his arm around my waist at one point."

She pressed her lips together, contemplating. She nodded when she felt satisfied, and then mused, "So, exotic flowers and Italian ice cream. Did he read a romantic date manual or something?"

"Was that what that was, romantic?" I asked, as though my heart hadn't fluttered at the words 'romantic date'.

She gave me a dry look. "Yes, it was romantic."

"Sounds like he has experience," Selma proclaimed, glancing at us.

Apple and I both glared at her while Apple chastised, "Oh, quiet, Selma. Romantics don't need experience to be romantic—they're just born that way."

I tried to hold back a laugh, which resulted in an unattractive snort. When she shot a look at me, I shrugged and said, "Sorry, that was just one of the stupidest things I've heard in a long time."

She hopped off my desk and glowered at me with what she hoped was a murderous look. However, because I was the ultimate master of that, it was lost on me. She tipped her nose upward and sat down in her seat, smoothing down her skirt as if she were royalty.

Selma and I exchanged a glance, and she smirked while I chuckled shortly. But we were thinking the same thing: Drama queen.