It All Started with a Couch
- Reads 213
- Votes 15
- Parts 7
Ongoing58m
Last published Sat, Sep 16, 2017
"Sky! Get the hell over here and do shots with us!" someone yelled over the blaring music.
I faked a nervous laugh, quickly back tracking out of the kitchen until I hit the porch door.
"You know," I shouted with a smile, my hands fumbling and unlocking the door, "I'm actually feeling a little ill all of a sudden."
I pressed the back of my hand onto my forehead dramatically, letting out a loud sigh.
"Oh plea-"
"What?" I yelled over the music, pretending not to hear them. "I can't hear you," I mouthed, pointing from them to my ear.
Somehow I managed to slide open the door and slip out of the house.
"Final- what the hell?" I said, narrowing my eyes at the guy sprawled asleep on the porch couch.
Tippy-toeing silently to the back of the couch, careful not to wake him, I made my way towards him. I softly ran my hands along the cushions where his back was pressed, then violently gave him a good shove off the couch.
"That'll teach 'em," I muttered to myself.
A smug smile made its way onto my face as he let out a loud groan before rubbing his green eyes, which then settled on me. I stretched my body along the couch, resting my arms behind my head.
After moving to the city, Skylar Collins' life changes drastically, to say the least; from stabbing someone's ass, having an old man flash her, house break-ins, to finding love.
It all started with a couch.
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#146
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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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