The Bad Boy's Girl (Now Available as a Paperback and ebook)

Chapter Seven : It's Spoon Lifting Not Grand Theft Auto!

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*I havent had the time to proof read this so I'm sorry about any mistakes-I'll go over this tomorrow and fix any problems* 

Chapter Seven : It's Spoon Lifting Not Grand Theft Auto!

"I'm not signing that."

"It's not like you actually have a choice, sign it."

"No!"

"Yes."

"How do I know you're not going to use my signature to, I don't know take away all my life savings."

"Yes because working at Rusty's has made you quite the billionaire." He rolls his eyes.

"I will let you know that I have a respectable amount in my bank account."

"Whatever makes you happy sweetheart now just sign this."

I shake my head vigorously and once again push the napkin towards Cole. We've been going at it for about twenty minutes and by this point I'm pretty sure that waitresses are under the impression that they're witnessing an illicit drug deal. It would be understandable though since it's about 11 pm on a Saturday night with the two of us sitting in a corner booth arguing over a contract which sounds highly suspicious. Add to that our Goth Chic looks and you have your typical town junkies, it would be hilarious though if they call the cops on us and Cole's dad shows up.

"Okay how about we try this, if you don't sign the damn napkin I will go to your dad and tell him that you've been extremely mean to me and have in fact on multiple occasions tried to endanger my life."

I lean forward on my table and bang my fist on the mustard sauce encrusted table top, "I have done no such thing you manipulative, lying, frustratingly annoying...."

"We can talk about how amazing I am some other day Tessie but right now you should do as I say." He grins evilly and I give him my best withering stare, one which has brought the strongest of men to their knees...not.

I groan in defeat and slide the napkin towards me, signing my name with the borrowed sharpie and then slide it back towards Cole who's looking so smug that I want to wash that expression right off his face.

With the acid our cleaner sometimes uses to clean the toilets.

"There now was that so hard?"

I am this close to dumping my strawberry ice-cream over his head but honestly I could never do that to my precious, precious ice-cream, not to two whole scoops of it. It deserves so much better than to be wasted on a twit like him.

Right, of course explanations are in order as one might get confused because of our conversation. Lets rewind and go back to the party even though that's probably the last thing I ever want to do but for the sake of storytelling it must be done.  See after my knight in shining armour or in this case my fool riding his much too expensive Volvo rescued me and after we had our little moment, things got awkward. Sitting in his car with me trembling like crazy and him trying to calm me down, we realized that we weren't meant to be like this, to be so nice and cordial to each other. It's almost painful to remember him passing me tissue after tissue and me bawling like the weakling I am.

I haven't told him though, I haven't said a word about why I'd flooded his car faster than the Titanic and he hasn't asked though I know he's dying to. Maybe it's the tapping foot or the fingers drumming consistently on the table I just know that he wants me to spill my guts.

Maybe that's why he's brought me to Rocco's twenty-four hour diner, to bribe me the one weakness I have left from my Fatty Tessie days well apart from Kit Kats. I'm currently on my third serving of the delectable ice-cream they have here and with the way I'm inhaling through the milky goodness of it I have a feeling that I'll soon be sharing pouring my heart out to him just so he buys  me more ice-cream.