What The Bad Boy Did

24 - He Called Me Passive

                           ❝ aмerιca тнe вrave ѕтιll ғearѕ wнaт we don'т ĸnow
                          and "god loveѕ all нιѕ cнιldren" ιѕ ѕoмeнow ғorgoттen
                вυт we parapнraѕe a вooĸ wrιттen тнιrтy ғιve нυndred yearѕ ago❞

                                                                            — M A C K L E M O R E

October 18th, 6:23 pm

Text Message From:  Dad
You're still at the Collins right??

Text Message To:  Dad
Yeah! I don't have any homework tonight, and I'll eat dinner - don't worry.

Text Message From:  Dad
I never worry. :)

        "Demi, are you listening?"

        My eyes flashed up from my phone screen to Griffin and I grinned sheepishly. "Uh huh," I nodded.

        Griffin slouched, all interest draining from his eyes as he bore into me. "No, you're not."

        "I so am!" I feigned, a hand to my chest.

        "What did I just say?" he asked.

        I blinked at him, my mouth agape. "Things..." I stuttered. "About those other things..."

        "It's like why do I even bother!" Griffin threw his hands in the air and began to rise onto his feet from the floor in his den.

        "No! Wait!" I grabbed onto his hand, attempting to pull him back, but I ended up just suspending from his wrist. "I'll be good! I'll be good!" I promised and he raised a quizzical brow at me.

        He rolled his eyes at my protests but he sat anyway. "I was saying that your passivene-"

        "Whoa! I am not passive!" I protested and Griffin gave me a challenging look. "I'm not! I happen to be very aggressive." The next look Griffin gave me was suggestive and I rolled my eyes and shoved his shoulder. "Gross."

        "Demi," Griffin said and I glared at the patronizing way he said my name. "You're in King, all right? Getting a few drinks at a pub and a guy comes up to you and starts hitting on you in the most repulsive way you can imagine - what do you do?"

        I thought for a moment. "I'd tell him to get lost."

        Griffin laughed. "This bloke's got six centimeters and a stone and a half on me, and he's been drinking. Revise your answer."

        "He's got six centimeters and a stone and a half?" I asked incredulously with wide eyes, eyeing Griffin's already large frame. "You've got to be almost two meters tall."

        Griffin shrugged. "And this guys bigger, what do you do?"

        "Wait, how much do you weigh?" I tried to size Griffin up once more. "Like thirteen stones, yeah?" I asked.

        Griffin rolled his eyes. "It doesn't matter."

        "I'll tell you what I weigh!" I told him, truly wondering what he weighed.

        "I don't care, Sunshine." Griffin looked to me and laughed at whatever expression I was wearing. "Demi, you can't weigh even ten stones."