♥Fighting Over A Waitress In Costa♥ - [2nd book]

♥Chapter 8♥

Yay!

I'm so happy that this update isn't late! :D

I'm so behind on everything! Like reading, writing, life! ¬.¬

BTW, this chapter is 2,016 words and I'm so happy! I think a decent chapter of mine should have a minimum of 2000 words! So this is decent and acceptable! :D

I was laughing at the comments on the last chapter and how different they were to chapter 6! You poor sugarplums! you don't have a clue on what's going on! :D

Anyways. . .

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.x.x.x.BiBi.x.x.x.

P.S. Don't kill me!

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I had never been so glad to come home.

When Ammee walked in with a plate of samosas, the first thing I did was hug her tiny, chubby frame tightly, almost knocking her over.

"Khiya bhat he beti?" She had asked me. After hugging me back, she pushed me away and commanded me to shower and get changed. I agreed and rushed upstairs. I tried my very hardest to scrub away the strangers touch until every millimetre of my skin was bright red. The only thing I had to figure out was why that man had attacked me.

Too weak to think or debate with myself, I let the issue slide ass. There was no point in taking any action, the man was long gone and I couldn't identify him as I didn't catch a glimpse of his features.

As for Matt. . . . I prayed he got the message. I had enough on my plate and having to worry about Matt was more things to think about. Besides, he was going to make it a lot harder for me to resist him if he kept on popping up everywhere.

Once I dried my hair completely, I dressed into a comfortable, modest pair of pyjamas and a scarf to cover my chest. I knew Ammee would have a go at me if she found me wondering around the house without a veil in front of a male (Baba).

My parents were intrigued by the over dramatic, highly overrated show Eastenders. When I strolled in, Ammee focused her gaze on me and smiled with a bottle of coconut oil in her hands. She patted the ground and I listened.

I enjoyed it when Ammee messaged oil onto my hair. It brought back old memories and I really needed a head massage.

"So, how vos work," Ammee asked, pouring more oil onto my hair. "How iz Matt?" Quirking an eyebrow at her, I looked at my mother.

Shaking my head and sighing, I replied "I guess he's fine." Lie . . .

"If he vants to come over for dinner, he can."

"Hmm . . . he's very busy" - chasing me - "I don't think he can come over," - he has no reason to - "I'll tell him he can come over though," - the biggest bag of bullshit has just landed!

On the table, large, crispy, golden triangles on the coffee table caught my glance. Samosas . . .

I reached out for one but my hair was yanked back by Ammee.