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. :)
Chapter-9: Crumple
Word Prompt: Crumple
Dialogue Flex: "What else do you want from me?"
Using the provided snippet of dialogue, explore what comes to mind, be it a scene, a thought, or something else.
~*~*~*DreamWeaver*~*~*~
That night at the gay bar, I saw my Mystery Girl walk away with her friend, and with her, all my hopes of pursuing her crumpled away.
I spend the weekend by cursing the fuck out of Ben, who surprisingly thinks he did me a great service by announcing to the whole crowd that I loved pussies. Yes, his crude declaration did stop the guys from trying to feel me up for the rest of the night, but there was something about having my sexual preferences announced to the crowd that still makes my ears heat up.
On Monday morning as I see Ben walk inside my cabin, looking like everything was fucking dandy, I scowl at him.
"Whoa! What's up with your forehead? It's twitching a little," he says and even tries to poke the vein that twitches there whenever I'm furious.
"Shut it, you ass." I flip him off. "It's all your fault."
"Dude! You aren't still on about that, are you?" he asks with wide eyes. "You really like that chick, don't you?"
"Really? What clued you in?"
He scratches his head and starts talking, "The way you're glaring at me …" he sees the intensity of the said glare increase and finally has his light-bulb moment. "Oh! You were being sarcastic. Sorry."
Shaking my head at him, I sit down on my chair.
"So what's the plan now?" he asks after a long moment of silence. "You see her during lunch time, don't you? What are you gonna do today?"
I rub my hands over my face and finally mumble the only logical way to tackle this. "I'll have a late lunch today so that we don't cross paths."
"Aw man! I'm sorry for my lack of verbal filter, bro."
I wave him away, knowing that as ridiculous as the situation was, he was trying to be my wingman … sort of.
~*~*~*DreamWeaver*~*~*~
By the time I get to the café, it's almost two in the afternoon. I take in the mostly empty café and let out a sigh of relief.
She must have come and gone already.
I look at the food items on the display case and make up my mind to get a ham burger before taking my place behind the only guy in the line for the cash counter.
With my back to the door, I hear the door open followed by the tinkling of the small bell placed on top of it. I barely pay attention to anyone around me as I scan through my messages on my phone, waiting for the guy in front of me to finish up.
"Next!" the woman behind the counter calls, and I step up.
I open my mouth to place my order, and that's when I hear it.
"Oh for fuck's sake! What else do you want from me, Alice?" a familiar voice asks from right behind me.
I carefully tilt my head to the side to see none other than my Mystery Girl standing behind me with her back turned toward me.
Oh fuck! She hasn't seen me yet, has she? I wonder as I turn my head back to the woman waiting for me to order.
"Alice," I hear her grit out the name in exasperation. "I cannot describe what he looked like. I'm not damn Wordsworth. You should've looked with your eyes open that night if you wanted to see his pretty face."
Pretty? I remember her friend telling me that she has been calling me pretty. I don't know how I feel about being called pretty actually. On one hand, the word pretty sounds so … feminine, but on the other hand, her calling me pretty must mean that she likes me, right?
My train of thoughts is cut short when I hear her speak into the phone clutched to her ear once more. "You remember there being two guys, right?" she stops to listen before continuing. "Well, the one who screamed about pussies is the guy you named Matchstick, and the one who supposedly likes pussies is Pretty Boy. Clear enough?"
"Not supposedly, I really do like pussies." She whirls around to face me and lets out a gasp.
What …? And then, it hits me. I said the words out loud instead of just thinking them in my head.
Can this get any worse?
I get the answer to that question in a just a second when she says to her friend, "Hey, Al? I just ran into the Pussy-lover Pretty Boy."
God! Kill. Me. Now.
A/N: *Cackles* So … thoughts?
Share them with me and leave a review.
Thank you for reading.
See you tomorrow.
Take care.
Ann
