A.N. Just want you all to know I don't write on the weekends, mostly because I never get any alone time. Also, if you like my stories follow me on Twitter at ImmatureDamsel. REVIEWS MAKE ME WRITE MORE! THANKS!
DERIC'S POV I know that this is going to sound really cheesy and mushy (which can also translate to gross in a romantic way), which is not at all like me, but she completes me. Wow. That is cheesy. But she seems to get me and understand me. I know that I can be a dick sometimes, and I know that I can be arrogant, but she accepts that, and she knows that I'm not insulting her when I poke fun at her, because sometimes I just don't know when to stop, when enough is enough.
So here we are at a motel in Colorado, she's asleep but I'm not, why? Oh right, because I keep thinking about this crap!
I hear something outside, then I hear a door close. I got out of bed, careful not to wake her up, and looked out the window. Two police cars. "Oh shit." Then one of the police officers pulled out a megaphone, "Come out now, we've got the place surrounded!" Carson sat up in bed, yawned, stretched, and then blinked a couple of time before looking at me and speaking, "What's goin' on, what's that noise?" she asked groggily. "Time to go baby, the popo's here." She sighed and mumbled an "it's too early for this", but obediently got up and got dressed, and within three minutes she was wearing a t-shirt, jeans, and a pair of sneakers.
We ran down the stairs, taking them two at a time. Just as we were about to burst out the front door and make a run for it (this town is so small that I highly doubt that they have enough police officers to surround the place), Carson stopped in her tracks, "WHERE'S SHEP?!" "We don't have time for the damn dog Carson!" "I WON'T LEAVE WITHOUT HIM!" Just then Shep trotted through the front door happily, panting… why is he always panting?!
We looked out the window in the dingy lobby. "Oh crap, the building IS surrounded, what are we gonna do Deric?" "Babe, we are gonna make a scene" "Oooo yay! I love making a scene, but do you have a plan?" "Yes, yes I do."
5 MINUTES LATER Carson stood in the middle of the lobby, fake blood smeared onto her shirt, "Deric, does fake blood make my butt look big?" I rolled my eyes, "You ready, Carson?" "FOR THE FIFTH TIME, YES!" "Okay, okay!" I held my gun in my right hand and fired off three blanks. Then Carson let out a (fake) earsplitting scream, and limped out of the front door, leaving a (fake) bloody handprint on the glass.
CARSON'S POV As I limped out of the front door all of the officers attention turned to me, the bloody strawberry blonde girl that was limping out of a crime scene, holding her hand to her bloody stomach. I fell to the ground, pretending that my knees gave out. Once all of the policemen had surrounded me, not giving a rats ass about their previous mission, I watched the door and waited. Only three seconds passed before I saw Deric walk out the front doors, whistling a showtoon, mocking them (it was so difficult to hold in my laughter and keep a straight face, but I managed). Once he was on his Ducati he motioned for me to come over.
"Are you alright ma'am?" asked one of the officers, looking me up and down, but mainly staring at my chest. Ugg… pervert! "Yes, I'm fine. In fact," I stood, "I think I can stand, and, I think I can run!" and I ran to the Ducati, and I know it's childish, but I stuck my tongue out at them.
A.N. Okay guys, the next chapter will be short, but important, and I promise it will be up by today! Ciao!
