The Rapper And The Waitress
- Reads 16
- Votes 4
- Parts 3
I'm sorry baby girl," he apologised. "Don't call me that! I have a name and it's shae.
He started to think. "Well shae, I hope that name comes with a number." He smirked.
I fumed at him and stomped away. He started to laugh atl me and I turned around looking confused as hell.
He seemed to catch his breath and said. "You have a KFC bag on your ass,"
She fan girled him and had every rap he had ever done.
He lived his cool life knowing that people loved him.
He lived one life. She lived another. What happens when both their lives come crashing down on each other.
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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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