Bad Boys

Cutesy First Dates for Ugly People by Eliizabethany

After a few hours of talking to Dymondina and texting Axl, I had finally convinced them to meet up with each other the next morning. However, because the author could not come up with a plausible way for me to know what is happening, despite my espionage skills and the multiple security cameras, I must entrust the duty of storyteller to Dymondina. I know that you will miss hearing my wonderful narration, or at least imagining my wonderful words being said in my melodious voice, but I can assure you that I will be back with my perfect prose soon.

Dymondina's POV

To dress for this guy, I put enough effort in to appease my sister, but not enough to make it worth boring you with my entire morning routine. As I walked down the stairs, I noticed Eliizabethany looking me up and down to approve or disapprove of my attire. Personally, I thought that an oversized my chemical romance shirt was perfectly acceptable for a casual meeting with someone I didn't know.

For Eliizabethany's benefit, I had even toned down my makeup, only smudging on a small hint of eyeliner. As much as I normally disliked those who would look at me in disgust of my style, Eliizabethany was my sister and, in a sense, I guess I might've slightly wanted a sense of family in her.

"Hi," I greeted her, not exactly in a bright tone, but certainly less monotonously than I had yesterday.

"Yes," she replied, looking far more awake than I felt. I couldn't believe that she was still awake and talking to me after the fiasco that was past few hours of her trying to dress me and me running and running and running away.

"Come on, you're meeting your boyfriend at our personal coffee shop in five minutes. Frank will drive you there," she said in her perfect little voice. I could think of a perfect set of words to describe exactly what I thought, but I couldn't say them aloud. Not until I figured out if she could understand Italian.

I smiled slightly, but I was over the moon that she wasn't looking at my clothes in as much disgust as she had yesterday. "Ok." I hadn't even noticed that she was referring to this stranger as my boyfriend. She was going to make me meet three guys anyway. Unless this family was a part of some weird cult, I doubt she supported polygamy. Or maybe she did...

Five minutes later I was seated on a pink armchair with a steaming mug of coffee in-front of me.  I stared blankly at the large open space that I currently had all to myself. Frank had left a few minutes ago, saying that Eliizabethany was in urgent need of him and no one else or something.

I sat there, deep in thought until I was startled by the sound of a loud engine. A motorcycle drove its way into the coffee shop. By "drove its way into the coffee shop", I do not mean that it calmly parked itself outside the cafe. The rider of the motorcycle drove through the open door before bringing the bike to a halt right in front of me, wobbling slightly as he did so. I wonder how he ever got his license.

"Ello, Mademoiselle," he said, wiggling his eyebrows. I scrunched up my nose; his voice sounded ridiculous to the point that it hurt. He must've been trying to deepen his voice or something, but the end result was something that sounded like Marilyn Manson trying to inhale cocaine.

"Hi?" I asked back. "You can drop the vocal act now." I said more assertively.

"Thank duck," he said, in a significantly less grating voice. He stuck his hand out. "The name's Axl."

As I shook his hand, Axl attempted to flip his hair back and stare at me sexily. While he technically did do those things, I say attempted because, sometime between the hair flicking and the staring, Axl tripped over his motorcycle, fell over, and pulled me down with him. I fell awkwardly, half sprawled over him and half on the motorcycle which poked uncomfortably into my side. "Amazing," I said sarcastically (just in case you missed the fact that this stunt was not impressive).

"Ugh I'm so sorry," he said. "My cousin told me I should try the hair-flip." He wriggled uncomfortably under me, attempting to stand up. Suddenly, his pupils dilated as he stared at me.

"TITTIES!!!!!!" he screamed with an ear-splitting shriek.

"What?" I said, scrambling off him. I take it back, I take it all back. The Marilyn Manson voice was fine. Please make this wailing noise stop.

"Your B is showing," he said in delight.

"My what?" I questioned.

"You know, your b - BRA!" He shrieked. I looked down at my chest to realise that the stand of the motorbike had torn my shirt clean in half.

He took out his phone. "Allow me to... make an inappropriate comment about your boobs before politely offering you some clothing to help protect your modesty as I selflessly battle with my animalistic horniness that supposedly compels me to take your bra off. That's what it says to do on the Wikihow page for bad boys," he exclaimed as he sprung to his feet and took off his shirt. "Your bra is black, here's my shirt."

"Thanks," I said. "But I have a jacket."

"Oh," he hesitantly dropped the shirt. "I'm not sure if I'm supposed to still wear this or not."

"Put it back on," I instructed. "Nice tats though." I said quietly as I noticed the elaborate skull inked onto his shoulder.

Axl smirked at me and tilted his head cockily. "I know. Wanna get one?"

I smiled at him. "Why not?" I had always wanted a tattoo but had never had the time to get one.

"Get on then," he said lifting the fallen motorbike up and climbing onto it. "Sorry I don't have a helmet. I'm too manly to need protection from concussions. I'm so musculoskeletal that concussions need protection from me." His voice cracked up with the last word, not exactly the most manly but I'll give him a break.

I clambered on behind him as he revved the engine causing the motorcycle to purr beneath me. Without warning he took off, forcing me to grab onto his waist. As we sped out of the coffee store, he turned around. "Do you like this?" He yelled.

"I'd like it a lot more if you looked where you were going." I shouted back at him. He turned back around and sped out of the mansion. I could feel the wind in my dyed black hair, blowing my fringe off my forehead for the first time in forever, my black hair whipping behind me in the wind. "And if you actually had the decency to have a license before driving this thing!" I added.

"Sweetheart, I don't need a licence to know how to rev this bad boy." He said as he slammed the accelerator.