Clarissa Grayson Tate grew up in a wealthy home. From a far, her family looked perfect. To anyone who saw them in a picture or exchanged a few words with them at a party they were lucky enough to be invited to, they seemed like an annoyingly perfect...
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Issa Tate
"Is this blindfold really necessary Liam?" I ask frustratedly. I've been in this car for twenty minutes with this stupid thing on.
"Yes. Now hush up angel, we're almost there." I bite the inside of my cheek when his fingers resume tapping the steering wheel in a rhythm that's familiar but nonetheless, annoying.
"You do know that the twenty minutes we've been in this piece of junk count toward your hour right?"
"Woah woah! Show some respect, this is a goddamn 1967 Chevrolet Impala. Total classic! Jensen Ackles himself sat in this car." I chuckle under my breath at how defensive he is over this old man car.
"Who?"
"My god woman! You can't not know what I'm talking about! Dean Winchester?" I shake my head. "Supernatural?!" I shake my head again. "How have you lived this long without seeing that show?!"
"I'm more of a teen wolf kind of girl." I say and face the front with my arm resting on the window, my thumb rubbing my temple.
"Well you need to watch it."
"Oh I need to do I?" The leather squeaks and I feel his glare on me.
"Yes! It's so good that I pulled all the goddamn strings I could to get this car from set and fixed up to run! You have not lived until you've seen at least ten seasons of it." Jesus Christ ten?!
"Tempting." Definitely not but I have a feeling he won't shut up unless I agree to watch it.
Liam suddenly parks and rips my blindfold off. I refocus my train of thought and realize we've stopped outside an abandoned building. The walls are high and every window is either broken in the size of baseballs or shattered completely but still somehow staying together. The colors of it are faded to pale, dull shades. It looks to be an old run down factory. Suspicion creeps into my thoughts and I question whether or not I can trust Liam, friend or not.
"Loosen up. You're as stiff as your boy toy Emery." He smirks at me as my face morphs from horror, to fear, and then finally anger.
"Emery is not stiff."I cross my arms and scowl.
"Yes. He is. Your little sex toy is that Captain America type. So I'm basically saying Emery is as stiff as an American soldier on steroids about to go fight a bunch of nazis."
"Wait.. how did you know about me and Em-"
"I'm very observant of things I find worthy of being observed." He takes his dark shades from his eyes and looks to me with a flirty crooked grin.
