Disclaimer: No copyright infringement intended.
Chapter Eleven
Lately, I was full of horrible idea. Like, attempting to walk home from the restaurant. Worst idea ever. Especially in boots.
Especially in boots with heels that were not made for walking the streets. Or...coupled together with my low-cut dress and thin jacket, they kind of looked like they were meant for exactly that. You know, walking the streets.
Luckily, I was able to catch a cab that was slowly driving by. I quickly wondered if he only stopped for me because he thought I was offering my services.
It was settled: never walking again. At least not after 8 p.m.
"Those are some nice boots you have on there," the cab driver said in a rough voice.
Gross. Creepy and gross.
"Thanks." I wrinkled my nose.
They were just plain black boots. Expensive, plain black boots. But to any man's eye, just a regular ole boot. I wonder how many times I've thought the word boot in the past two minutes.
"They pretty comfortable?"
"When I'm not walking the streets? Yeah. Pretty comfortable."
When I'm not walking the streets? Oh my God. I should not be allowed to talk.
The cab driver turned around and stared. While he was still driving. His dirty blond hair sticking his forehead from sweat. "Do they come in leather or any other colors?" he asked.
"N-no... No, they don't. Just black suede." I tried laughing.
He kept staring at my legs.
Oh, please Mr. Sweaty Cab Driver, don't rape me. Please, don't rape me.
"I'll give you five hundred bucks for 'em."
Say what?
"You...you want to buy my boots?" I asked, bewildered.
He turned back to the road and said, "That's what I just said, lady."
"You don't want to rape me?"
"Uh. No," he said, laughing.
"Oh. Oh." I'm such a horrible person. I automatically assume this cab driver wants to rape and kill me, when he's only interested in a fine pair of boots. "I can't let you buy them. Sorry."
"Thought I'd try anyway. Here's my card though. Let me know if you have any shoes you want to get rid of."
Grabbing the card, I said thanks and told him which bar to take me to.
I said my goodbyes, paid Mr. Sweaty Cab Driver and walked into the bar, ordering a Grey Goose martini, two olives, dirty.
Don't be impressed. I stole the drink order from Reese Witherspoon in Sweet Home Alabama.
Two martinis later, whatever dignity I had was gone. This was becoming a habit that I wasn't a fan of.
"Bella." I could hear the amusement in Edward's voice. It was as if he already knew why I was calling.
Cocky.
"Edward. I text you earlier. Thanks so much for replying," I said, trying to sound funny. I think it just came off as weird and needy.
"Are you trying to be sarcastic? I replied."
"No, you didn't. Did you? Hold on." I scrolled through my text messages and to my fucking surprise, Edward had replied. Huh. "Oh. I guess I didn't see it. Anyway, you should come hang out with me."
"Well, where are you?"
"At the bar. Pike Pub or something."
"The same place as the other night?" Edward asked.
"Yep."
"Interesting. That's oddly close to my apartment."
"That is oddly interesting," I said innocently.
Ten minutes and a lip gloss application later, I was face to face with Edward. He was wearing a faded gray t-shirt underneath a navy blue hooded sweatshirt.
"You look like a slob. But it's cute on you," I admitted. Telling the truth was fun.
Edward smirked, leaning close to my ear. "You're just drunk. And you're starting to look like Norm. Sitting here, two nights in a row."
I pulled back and gave him a blank stare. "Who?"
"Cheers? One of the top fifty shows of all time? How is none of this ringing a bell?"
I shrugged. "I've never watched it before. Why would I?"
Edward gaped. "Who the hell has never watched Cheers?"
"Apparently, me," I said, slowly raising a hand.
"Jesus. I'm going to Netflix it for you. You do know what Netflix is, right?"
"Ha, ha, very funny."
"Let me guess, you used to watch shit like Blossom?" He smirked and ordered a Heineken.
"I don't think I want to answer that."
"Good. I don't think I want you to answer that."
"Good." I laughed.
"What's this?" Edward asked as he picked up the card the cab driver handed me. "Mike Newton. Designer Shoe Extraordinaire? What the hell is this?"
"The cab driver wanted to buy my shoes. He offered me five hundred bucks for them." I laughed hysterically.
"Five hundred bucks? You have shoes that cost five hundred bucks?" Edward asked with no emotion.
"Well, they were more than that when I bought them. I guess maybe he knocked the price down because they've been worn. I don't know. I don't really know how the black market pricing works." I shrugged.
Edward ran a hand through his hair and said, "Christ." Clearing his throat, he asked how the dinner went, saying it couldn't have gone that well.
"Why would you think that?"
"Because you're sitting alone. In a bar."
"At least I don't have a baby in a bar." Edward took a long pull from his beer and gave me a side eye. I decided to leave Sweet Home Alabama out of this. "Well, Rosalie showed up and tried starting shit, so I left."
Edward looked genuinely shocked. "You just left?"
"Yep. Why...why do you look like that right now?" Okay, so I wasn't very articulate while inebriated.
"I don't know. I feel like a week ago, you would have just endured the company and stayed at dinner."
I nodded. "Yeah, because a week ago, I would have."
"How is it possible for a person to change so much within a few days?"
Good point.
"I have no idea."
A/N: Cheers reference was for heycarrieann17! Sweet Home Alabama reference was for me, cause I love that fucking movie. Thanks for reading!
