Nothing is going right for Brooke, in fact, just about everything is going wrong.
So, she decides to live life like her perfect sister, Barbie. The obvious solution to her problems.
But is that really why things are getting better? Or is her new fri...
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It's 2 AM and I'm ready to go home. As Felix would have it, I have to lock up after him leaving 20 minutes ago. There's just one customer left who I have to kick out.
"André, you need to leave."
"But we were having so much fun!" He protests with a grin.
I sigh and roll my eyes. "The only time I've spoken to you tonight has been when I've asked you to leave. And you still haven't done that."
He smiles patiently. "Exactly, darling! No one else is here, we can finally have a proper chat."
"André, no one else is here," I reiterate for him, using my hands to accentuate my point. "Time to go."
"Why? You're sponging my fun, Brooke." He spins his barstool, following me as I exit the bar, having retrieved my personals from the back room.
"It's really late, I have to close up and then Harry is picking me up. We gotta leave."
"He's coming to pick you up?" He asks accusingly.
"Yes, he is," I say matter-of-factly.
André stands from his seat and dusts himself off then looks at me again. "Okay, I'll wait with you then."
I open the door for him, letting him exit the building and follow him through, shutting the door behind me. "That's really not necessary, but fine," I say as I lock the door.
"Course it is. This isn't the best area, is it, babe? I'd be a right dickhead to leave you here." He then walks away from me to sit on a bench outside the bar.
I watch his movements with a close eye, not making a move to sit by him though.
"I don't bite unless you ask me to, so you've got nothing to worry about sitting next to me, love." He looks at me with a shit-eating grin, patting the space beside him.
I huff loudly, too stubborn to give in but too tired to keep standing. Begrudgingly, I take a seat.
"That wasn't too hard now, was it?"
"It took all the strength in the world and pained me still," I bite.
He laughs. "You're well funny when you talk all posh and that, you know?"
"I don't mean to be. It's just how I speak." I've never been fazed by my accent. I know it's posh and sometimes I like the privileges that come with it. But what I wouldn't give to have people think I'm not a rich-bitch Tory MP in the making. "I like your accent, though."
He smiles. "You're tryna make a black boy blush. You wouldn't be saying all that if I was full roadman like some of my mates."
