"This isn't over, Cooper. This isn't the end of me. I promise to make sure every girl knows what a scumbag you are!"
She threatened to blast me on every social media site known to man. What I want to know is how the hell did she get my number?
I don't give out my real number. That's just asking for trouble, but somehow she has it. She must've snatched my phone when I went to the bathroom. Either that or she works for the NSA, because she fucking has it, and keeps texting me screen shots of the messages she's posted on Facebook, Snapchat, and Instagram.
The bitch posted statuses on each one along with my phone number. Message after message pours in. Most are calling me names, but there are a few offers sprinkled throughout. I have half a mind to send her screen shots of those, but it's not worth it. Bottom line, I have no choice. I'm going to have to change my number.
"Quickie?"
I look up at the acne laced, teenage boy and shake my head. The question isn't meant for me, it's meant for the lady in front of me on line. Idiot. I laugh to myself. If he thinks that line is going to help him see any action, he's in for a rude awakening.
"A bit late to ask now, don't you think?"
That's a nice way to say not interested.
"Sorry, I didn't see you sooner. There were so many people when you came in."
He seriously can't be that dense, can he? In the middle of trying to get some action, he's telling her she's not hot enough for him to notice her in a crowd.
"Then I guess it's good for you that I'm not looking for it today," she answers with a light, pleasant tone.
"Kids," I say shaking my head, still not looking at her. "I'm sure he meant that as a compliment and didn't realize how rude it was." I say stuffing my phone in my pocket and skimming my eyes up her bare calves to the hem line of her skirt.
Liking the view, I continue looking her over, noticing how her dark skirt hugs the enticing curves of her round ass and hips. It clings to her, highlighting her tiny waist.
Shit, if the bottom half looks this good, I can only imagine what the top half looks like. Actually, with the bottom half looking this good, who gives a fuck what the top half looks like?
Still, my eyes continue their journey, and take a minor detour while examining both of her very perky, saluting-at-full-attention breasts. The white button down shirt she's wearing is opened to show just enough cleavage that I'm imagining all the ways I'd like to get lost in that valley, and not far down enough that she looks trashy.
"He wasn't rude," her voice pulls me from my trance. "The rude one is the guy eavesdropping that thinks he has the right to comment on someone else's conversation. The same guy who can't seem to tear his eyes away from my breasts."
That attitude cools me off a little. I'm still dealing with one bitch, I don't need to get myself tangled up with another one. I bring my eyes up to meet hers and tell her where she could take that attitude of hers.
Two large, round, blue orbs framed by the longest, thickest lashes I've ever seen, pierce into me. I falter a second, struck by how beautiful she is. I was wrong about not caring what the top half looks like. She looks perfect. Like a living doll.
"Sorry, it's just seeing you, and hearing him ask for a quickie, I can't help but think age and experience will serve him well when he learns to take his time and show appreciation to a girl, excuse me, a woman," I let my eyes roam over and caress her body once again before locking them with hers. "As painstakingly beautiful as you."
"Painstakingly?" Her perfectly waxed eyebrows rise up in amusement.
"Mmm."
I take a small step closer to her, and bring my mouth to the side of her face. Her breath doesn't hitch and she doesn't move, not closer, not further. She stays right where she is, as if she's neutral. As if I have no effect on her, and I'm actually worried that I might not. What if she's a lesbian? My mind races with images of her naked, having her tits sucked by another chick. Maybe if I play my cards right, I could convince her to let me watch.
"Painstakingly, because it will feel like someone seared my heart with a stake if you leave here without promising to go out with me tonight."
She ignores me, as if I didn't say anything and turns back to the barista approaching with her drink. I wait for an answer, but one never comes.
"Thanks, Teddy," she says before heading for the door.
She's walking away from me? I can't fucking believe she's just going to walk away. She probably is a lesbian.
"Hey, I'm sorry, I didn't catch your name," I say jumping in front of her.
"That would be because I didn't give it," she says looking nonplused again. "And for the record, you shouldn't use words you don't understand the meanings of. You totally blew the meaning of painstakingly. It means you do something with such care and diligence, it becomes almost painful."
"If you give me a chance, I promise to do you with that kind of care and diligence."
"Goodbye, asshole."
"No, wait. I'm sorry. Give me five minutes. Please." I give her the pleading eyes look I keep reserved for my sister. It's the look she can't resist, and it's gotten me out of more loads of laundry and dirty dishes than I can count. I see the hardness of my doll's eyes soften, and I know she's unable to resist the look as well. "Let's sit and talk. Here. Now."
"The clock starts . . ." She pulls her phone out and sets the timer. "Now."
"You're seriously not going to give me more than five minutes?"
"That's what you asked for. Now if I were you, I'd get to the point. You're on the clock."
There's a playful glint in her eyes. That's good. The fact that I convinced her to talk to me has to mean something, because this crazy, desperate need to be with her, next to her, even if I'm just staring has me all out of sorts. So out of sorts I realize, that's exactly what I'm doing right now. Instead of talking, I'm sitting here like a fucking idiot staring at her.
"Sorry. I don't mean to act all creepy and shit. You're just so beautiful, and . . . Hey, did you ever see that movie? It's old. The one where these two geeky kids create the perfect woman by connecting a doll to their computer? And then when she first comes to life, they can't speak, or do anything because they're so awed by her?"
She smiles. I'm softening her up, at least a little.
"Yes."
"That's what this is like, like you're a shatter-my-world doll in the flesh."
"I'm not familiar with that one." She's struggling to keep a straight face. "Tell me about her."
"Well, for one thing, she's perfect. Drop dead gorgeous. And once you see her your world as you know it is over, because she's all you can think about."
"Your time is almost up."
"Okay, okay." She knocked me back on my heels just as I thought I was winning her over. "Getting back to the movie, it's like you were made for me, because I'm not usually this awkward around girls. But with you, I'm tripping over my words, and I'm totally striking out."
I pull my eyebrows together giving my disappointed look, and hope she buys it. I know she can see past the bullshit, but I'm hoping she sees that she really is affecting me. Heavy silence looms between us as she takes a sip of her coffee before answering.
"Maybe you're not totally striking out. You do have two strikes on you, but you just took a ball. Let's see if you can even out the count."
"You like baseball?" I smile, stunned.
"Baseball, football, hockey. Don't look so surprised. There's something hot about watching a bunch of alpha males trying to dominate each other."