"No offense, Dallas, but I'm not into moody assholes," I fired at him with a smug smirk.
"Yeah, you're not my type either, Diana," he shot back. "Crazy, uptight chics are kind of a turnoff." I narrowed my eyes at him and growled angrily.
...
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Street lamps lit up the sides of the dark road as my car sped down a nearly empty highway. Occasionally, other cars would pass, but the streets were relatively quiet tonight. It was late, probably sometime around midnight, but I was too determined and focused to keep driving until I made it to Tulsa, Oklahoma. The trip would take about twenty hours, almost a full day, if I continued driving without stopping somewhere. Apart of me couldn't believe I was possibly throwing my future away for some girl, but the other part of me knew that Diana wasn't just 'some girl.' She was way more than that; she was special. From the day that we first met, when I saved her from that cruel cop in the alleyway beside the coffee house I worked at, I was immediately drawn to her. Her personality was charming and her humor was witty. There wasn't a doubt in my mind that Diana and I would become friends, possibly even more one day.
"Hey James, could ya take the trash out?" My managed shouted from across the kitchen as I brought in a bin of dirty dishes from customers' tables. Since I was only sixteen, the only job I was offered at this coffee house was busboy, but I gratefully accepted the task since it still paid money. In all honesty, I didn't mind the job. I liked knowing that I had something to look forward to once I worked hard enough for a promotion.
I brought the heavy bin over to the sink in the small kitchen. I placed the dishes inside the sink, the glass clinked together and made loud noises. I glanced over my shoulder and replied to my manager, "You got it, boss."
I quickly began washing the plates and silverware with soap and water before drying them with a rag, placing them into their original spots in the cabinets and drawers. I walked over to the trash can in the corner of the kitchen and pulled the filled bag out, tying the opening into a knot, and holding the bag at my side. I made my way over to the side door in the kitchen that led directly into the small alleyway in between the coffee house and the next building over. When I stepped outside, I heard fighting coming from the entrance of the alley.
"What did I tell you last time about vandalizing?" A tall, slightly overweight police officer asked a small, brunette girl. She held a black spray paint bottle in her hands and had an uninterested expression on her face.
I decided to ignore the scene, continuing with my initial chore, and tossing the trash bag into the garbage bin. It was none of my business to get involved in her problems anyway. The police were always harsher on the poor teenagers here, but everything is harsh for everyone in New York.
"To be honest, I'm not really sure," the girl spoke. She shrugged her shoulders nonchalantly and stared the cop directly in his icy eyes, challenging him. I was surprised by her confidence, or maybe it was arrogance. "And I don't give a fuck either," she remarked with a click of her tongue. Her strong language caught me and the officer off guard. I glanced her way with wide eyes, curious as to what was going to happen next.
