She was the bad girl.
He was the nerd
She was his crush, he was not
What happen when the two meet 13 years later, after love and betrayal and the role change.
18+ only
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I looked up from the pile of receipts on my desk as the door swung open with dramatic flair.
"I am dying!" Mia announced in a raspy, sore-throat voice that seemed to echo her misery.
"Good morning to you too, Mia," I mumbled sarcastically, leaning back in my chair. It was way too early in the morning for me to deal with her dramatic theatrics.
"There's nothing good about this morning," she retorted, sinking into the couch with a groan. "Can't you see I'm dying?"
I rolled my eyes. "You're not dying, you just have a cold."
Mia was clad in an oversized t-shirt emblazoned with "SICK GIRL," while I was dressed in a chic off-shoulder chiffon sleeve summer dress. The contrast was as amusing as it was absurd.
"When I die, I want my tombstone to offer free WiFi," she continued, disregarding my attempt at a reality check. "Just so people would visit more often. But enough about me, we'll plan my funeral later. How was your date with that hot Scottish dude? Did you blow the Irish flute?"
"It was more of a whistle," I replied, not even trying to hide my amusement.
"Damn, it was that small?" Mia's eyes widened in exaggerated disbelief.
"His dick was so small he could fuck a Cheerio without breaking it," I shot back, barely containing a laugh.
"But I've seen Outlander. You know it's said that their blokes are among the biggest in the world when it comes to penis size. Maybe you're just too picky," she said, her tone a mix of teasing and concern.
I shot her a dirty look. "It's not like it's something you have to search for. Well—maybe his—with a magnifying glass."
"Most women like a man's jawline, his eyes, his smile," I continued with a smirk. "But I'm more of a penis kind of gal, so I know what kind of dick I want. Besides, it was so small, I blurted out, 'Wow, Oliver, you're all testicles and no shaft. What happened to your shaft, Oliver?'"
Mia burst into laughter, her laughter so intense that no sound came out. She sat there clapping, looking like a bewildered seal.
"You... you... you... I... can't... believe... you said that!" she managed between breaths.
"It just came out," I said, shrugging with a grin.
Mia wiped tears from her eyes and managed to ask, "What about La-Shawn?"
"More like La-Gone," I shuddered. "He was so cheap, he used a coupon for a coupon."
Mia burst into laughter again, still struggling to catch her breath. As she wiped tears from her eyes, she looked at me with a mix of amusement and sympathy.
Mia Bailey is more than just my business partner—she's my closest friend. When I first moved to LA, life was rough. I juggled two part-time jobs and one full-time job just to make ends meet. It became even harder with an additional mouth to feed, and that's when I met Mia. We worked together at the same bar, and after a particularly unsavory incident where a regular slapped her ass, let's just say that two people really bond when they're in jail together.
