In which a rapping, God like, stoner takes an interest in a girl who is down to earth and mellow.
(Or)
"You shouldn't be so mean, they've never heard your name before, they don't know." I whisper to him, lifting the wet wash rag to his eyebrow and watching him hiss as I gently pat the gash.
"Shut up." He growls, staring at me while I address his wounds.
I sigh and press a little harder to his cut, making him flinch and glare at me, still refusing to cooperate.
I lean back and drop the wash cloth on the table beside us, crossing my arms over my sundress clad chest.
I look back at Derek and raise my eyebrow while he tenderly touches his face, a scowl set on his face- as usual.
"Man, you really need some weed."