A/N: Hi, my amazing readers! I was blown away by the love you've shown me in this little dream I've planned for you. Thank you for your support. It means the world to me. :)
This one got wildly out of hand (word count-wise), so now, you have a mega-flash. Happy reading. :D
Chapter-7: Laundromat
Word Prompt: Laundromat
Plot Generator—Phrase Catch: I have a bone to pick with you.
Repeat the phrase to yourself five times, open a blank word document and begin.
~*~*~*DreamWeaver*~*~*~
Surprisingly enough, when I tell Rosalie that Ben has gotten us passes to the most exclusive gay bar in Seattle, she doesn't flat-out say no. She hesitates for a moment, chewing on her lips seemingly engrossed in deep thought.
Sensing her hesitation, I say to her that this can be the first step of her "moving on" from what happened, and then, I clarify that by "this" I mean going out and having fun, not specifically going to a gay bar.
My trick works, and she gives me a grateful smile before ruffling my hair just the way mom does at times, thanking me with her eyes.
Instead of scowling at her like I usually do on such instances, I smile back. One smile on my sister's face means a lot to me.
Now, as I walk beside Ben, moving along the line to get inside the bar, he says to me, "I gotta hand it to you, Ed, you did good in getting her out of that office. But dude, you could've done fan-fucking-tastic if you had just managed to make her wear something other than that boring business suit."
I give him a look that says are-you-nuts as I reply in a low voice, "We came here from work, Ben. She wore that suit to work. There was nothing I could do."
"Still …" he continues. "How are we gonna find someone to hook her up with if she's dressed like that?"
I shake my head at his idiocy. "First of all, if you're thinking of hooking her up with someone, you should've taken her somewhere other than a place where most of the male population plays for the same team." He opens his mouth to say something, but I shut him up with a glare. "And, second, don't you dare say anything about my sister hooking up with someone. That's something no brother wants to hear."
He rolls his eyes at me, as if I'm being melodramatic, and says, "She's like a sister to me too, you idiot. But the way she's been acting around the office, I figured she might be a little horny."
"Gross!" I pull a face at him and say sternly, "You better shut up about her being horny. If she hears this, she might very well take you to the nearby Laundromat to give you a whitewash."
We both chance a glance at her and see that she's looking down at her feet. She's still not our Rose, I think and then motion for Ben to follow me.
Together, we step up on either side of her and each take one of her arms like perfect gentlemen. She smiles at the two of us, and we enter the bar with my softly laughing sister.
If this makes her happy then maybe coming here wasn't a bad idea.
~*~*~*DreamWeaver*~*~*~
My feelings about the gay bar not being a bad idea changes drastically within twenty minutes.
In those twenty minutes, I've been sent drinks by multiple patrons of the bar, complimented on the cute couple Ben and I make, asked for a dance by two men at the same time, and I'm fairly certain that the man who pretended to brush off dust from the seat of my pants gave my ass far too many squeezes than necessary if at all.
After twenty minutes of enjoying my nightmare, Rose excuses herself and walks away from the loud music to take a call.
Slumping back on my seat, I take a long drink of the beer the winking bartender left in front of me when Ben snickers at me. "Dude, you sure that's clean?"
"What's that supposed to mean?" I growl at him, already cursing him for coming up with the idea to come to this hellhole.
"I dunno," he replies thoughtfully. "The way people are eyeing you up, I won't be surprised if someone lines your drink with GHB, you know, the date-rape drug?"
My eyes widen and I start coughing, making him grin gleefully. "You're an asshole, Cheney!" I spit at him.
I poke my tongue out at Ben in a purely childish fashion. To which he responds with his disgusting kissy face.
That's when someone taps me on the shoulder.
Turning around, I see a short, black-haired woman standing behind me. Her face seems familiar to me, but for the life of me, I can't place it. "Yes?"
She sneaks a look at Ben before looking me up and down, and then she speaks. "Excuse me, Mister, but I have a bone to pick with you."
"Do I know you?" I ask her, trying to keep my voice as polite as possible while wondering who the hell she might be.
"Technically, no," she says, her voice sounding a little drunk to me.
"What's the problem?" I ask with a frown.
She sways on her feet a little as she holds a threatening finger up at me. "You. You are the problem. You are the only guy my best friend has called 'pretty' in a long time, and you turn out to be dating this matchstick," she says in a breath, gesturing wildly at Ben as she calls him a matchstick.
"Who's your … friend?"
"Alice! Shit! When did you get here?" A voice exclaims from behind the Drunken Chick, and I lift my eyes to see none other than my Mystery Girl standing there.
My mouth drops open the moment it registers to my brain that if Drunken Chick thinks I'm gay then Mystery Girl must think so too!
Fuck my life!
A/N: Poor Pretty Boy! :P
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Take care.
Ann
