Title: Buy Me With Your Love

Chapter One

I feel everything around me is turning slowly. Or has the sun's heat finally caught up to me? As I push back the swirling feelings that are trying to get out of me, I feel a vomit coming. The shards are all over the area and the driver looks as if he's ready to murder anybody near him. Apparently, the can hit his car and it brought a big damage.

Three options occur in my head:

Run away

Take responsibility

Find another can and hope I hit him in the head

I like to take my chances with option three but there's no can in sigh. So I only have one option left to do.

I have to run away.

With all my power, I run away from the crime scene. I used to be a track runner during my middle school days, but apparently my lack of practice made me slow. As I sense my stamina draining by every second, I decide to glance back just to see if the driver's following me.

Everything that happened after that was blurry. The driver's two times faster than me and it didn't take three minutes for him to catch me. My collar's tightly tucked inside his palm, I begin to draft my apology in my head.

"You got spunk to run away like that, don't you?" his voice is rough from the running, giving me the impression that he's not used to running like this. I look up at him and could not help but admire his Adonis-like features. He's tall, his shoulders are broad, his eyes glisten than a ray of sunshine, his hair is black as coal, and I begin to wonder whether I destroyed a top model's brand new car.

He bends down until our eyes are at the same level. "Are you deaf?"

I push him away. "Look, pal," I hiss. "I'm sorry I broke your car, I'm having a bad day as well. Let's just call it quits."

I feel that his grip tightens, his knuckles turning white. "Quits, you say?" his voice sounds hauntingly frightening but dreamy at the same time. "After you broke the car I've been waiting for almost a year, do you honestly think I'll just accept your apology?"

"If you weren't parking there, the accident wouldn't have happen at all!" I yell.

"If you didn't kick that junk, this argument wouldn't exist at all!" he retorts and his response leaves me no choice but to stay silent. As I play the scenes in my head, a tiny voice bugs me that it was my fault and I should recompense the driver.

"How much is the car?" I ask. "And how much would I have to pay to settle everything?"

"Roughly around 3.9 million," he replies and I feel cold water being poured at me. "Repairing would perhaps be around 7000 dollars since you broke the windshield."

"S-Seven thousand?" my jaw drops and I could see him smirking at my display of surprise. "You must be joking, right?"

He stares at me sternly. "I've been waiting for this Lamborghini Murcielago and I am not joking when it comes to my toys."

I muster the friendliest smile I could. "I currently have three dollars, would that suffice?"

He smiles and I begin to sense that he might not be such a bad person after all.

"No."

"Do you think I can pay you some other time?" I ask, trying not to look nervous but I think my voice's giving away.

"No."

"Do you, er, think you can forgive me?" I ask.

"No." he says again.

"Is 'no' the only word you know?"

"No."

I bite my lower lip. I do not own any valuables that can recompense a seven thousand worth of damage, but if there's one thing I value the most, it would be… myself.

"I can pay you with my body." The words flow out of my mouth and I witness the man before me look at me in disgust. The words must have come off wrong and I want to clear it up.

"I mean," I add quickly. "I'll work for you to pay that seven thousand."

"I don't need another mouth to feed in my own home." then he adds dubiously. "Especially not a beggar-looking woman with a terrible mouth who wants to march inside my life."

"Who do you think you are, you jerk?" I exclaim in horror. For the first time in my life, I encountered the most terrible man I had ever met.

He jerks his chin and I follow its direction. Behind me is a massive poster with the phrase: "MAN OF THE YEAR" and a picture of a man in a black suit. It took me five seconds to realize that the man standing before me is the same guy in the poster. Then I begin to scan my surroundings and everywhere I look it's his face and his name that greets my eyes.

Natsume Hyuuga.

It has dawn me that this Natsume Hyuuga is a big shot that I shouldn't have crossed in the beginning.

"You know what, I think I can use your offer," he declares, making my line of thoughts break. "I have something you can do."

I gulp. I regret the words that came out from my mouth a while ago and I doubt on whether I could withstand this trial that has pop out in front of me or not. I could feel sweat in my palms and I try not to look I'm nervous but I think this Natsume Hyuuga can see right through me. The 'Man of the Year' award is not given freely to any citizen in Japan for free, it has to be difficultly earned. As I analyze the ideas on what could this man have done to earn the trust of the public, my thoughts are cut off with the sound of a helicopter.

In just a matter of a few seconds, men garb in black suits start to surround Natsume Hyuuga and a few people halt to see what the commotion is about.

"Alpha," one man speaks to his walkie-talkie. "We have secured the eagle, over."

"No need for this kind of conditions, Andou." Natsume Hyuuga says.

"But, sir, we found your car and it's heavily damaged," his bodyguard explains. "We thought that a bullet has gotten through."

"A bullet? What has gotten through is a can, Andou. I ought to call the car's manufacturer. I have to inquire on how a piece of junk destroyed my windshield."

I stifle a laugh, but I think they must have heard a little since they glance at me with blank expressions in their face.

"She shot the can." Natsume Hyuuga tells the man called Andou.

"Permission to heavily torture her, sir?" his bodyguard asks.

He concocts a grin—a grin that could destroy my life. "No, Andou, I have something better in mind."

I begin to fear for my life. Perhaps I'm worshipping the wrong god all these years.

"Want a bit of excitement in your life?" he asks and I know he's mocking me. The man thinks I have a boring life, a life not worth living for any 18 year old out there.

He doesn't know.

He doesn't know that I blog in Tumblr.

And I have the sudden urge to tell him that, but he probably would not understand.