Red Ribbon
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- Parts 1
Taking one long look in the mirror, I evaluated myself. Starting from the bottom, I smiled down at my black and white Chuck Taylor's. Moving up, I scowled at my long, pale legs to my black dress that sat just above the knee. Winter was not kind to me. Ignoring my none existing breasts, I glared at my face. My long, wavy brown hair shaping my pale smooth skin. The many years of acne and zits finally paying off. My baby pink lips looking thinner than usual and my usual green vibrant eyes now looking tired and worn out. Pulling out the red ribbon I took from inside my dresser, I pulled one piece of hair from either side of my head and tied them together in a small bow. That should keep my hair from misbehaving tonight.
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C O M P L E T E D "Date me," he spins the whiskey around in the glass and fixes me with a smirk. I roll my eyes the moment the words roll off his tongue. "Are you really that desperate?" I scoff in response, fighting back the ever prominent blush. His smirk widens as my face flushes red and he leans over the countertop towards me. I step back. "Name your price," he replies, his words cool and smooth like ice cream. Only I would reference food at a moment like this. Anger rolls around in the pit of my stomach; I may not have money but I have morals. "You can't buy people, Grant," The words fall out of my mouth and he recoils as if slapped. I'm glad. Stupid rich boy and his player ways. "Bet I can," I resist the urge to slap the smug look of his face and scoff again. "Right," I drag out the word, rolling my eyes. I step away from the counter and turn my back on him, desperate to leave. But he speaks again. "Date me. Two months. If you fall for me for my money, I win. If I fall for you for who you really are, you win." I consider this for a moment. I have nothing to loose and really not much to gain. But I'm so desperate to put the asshole in his place that I can't resist. I'm a sucker for a bet. "Deal."
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