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Oh, How I Hate The Word MATE

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Hey ya'll I did this chapter in Mason's p.o.v at fist but them changed it to Tyler's Vote and comment pwease when your done!!

Now why am I stalling you? Here ya go!

 

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  CHAPTER 8: DEATH THREATS TO A TIGER

 

 

 Mason's P.O.V

 

  I don't think I am EVER going on a plane again.

  Throughout the whole flight, I was stuck with some seventy year old lady who eye rapes me and tries to flirt with me. I swear I almost gagged when she pushed up her saggy girls and pulled down her shirt.

  "Come on, sweetheart. Why don't we go into that bathroom over there and entertain ourselves until the flight ends for some real fun," she says, battering her eyelashes, showing how innocent she is. Please dear Lord, help me. Her idea of "fun" is not something I want to know about. 

  "Umm, thanks but no thanks lady. I'm fine right here," I reassure her. Though it didn't go into her creepy mind. She leaned over and whispered into my ear.

  "I plan to keep you in that bathroom until you scream my name so loud, the pilot will come running" she whispers. Okay, too far. I stand up quickly and she stands up too.

  "So you've come to take up my offer?" she asks innocently. Doesn't work with me. Definiately not innocent.

  "Gee, thanks lady but uh, I really got to go see the flight attendant for some umm....dental floss," Dental floss? That's the best I can do?

  "Oh, come on. It won't be that bad," she says, pulling me toward her.

  "Look! It's.... Leonardo Dicaprio?" I point behind her and, surprisingly enough, she looks. Great, my chance to escae. I dash to the bathroom while she's not looking and lock myself in. 

  Why do all the creepy old pedophiles go after me? If we weren't on this plane, I would've run outside, change into my wolf, and run as far away from her as possible. Then throw up. I hope we will get to Italy soon.

  Knock, knock, knock!

  I freeze. What if it's that old lady who wants to do me? There's no way out of this one,, considering I'm in the bathroom already.

  I clear my throat. "Uh, yes?" I make my voice sound like a llittle girls voice, which sucked.

  "Are you almost done in there because I really got to go," some guy's voice said. Thank god!

  "Yeah sure," I say in my normal voice. I open the door to find a fat guy giving me a weird stare. But he shrugged it off and rushed in the bathroom. I walk back to my seat only to stop in my tracks as I see the old lady looking around in her seat next to mine, trying to figure out where I am. As soon as her eyes sweep over here, I duck so she won't see me. I stayed low for a full ten seconds till I felt a tap on my left shoulder, which caused me to jump up in the air. 

  I looked down to see the flight attendant staring up at me concerned.

  "Are you okay sir?" she  asks. I turn around and see the old lady looking at me lustfully and started to get. Now in panic mode, I grab the flight attendant and push us so we're out of view from the lady.

  "No I'm not okay because there is a creepy old lady who is trying to do me in the bathroom and is on her way here right now," I whisper to her in a rush and point my thumb backwards towards the lady who is probably near.

  The flight attendant looks behind me and nodds in understandment.

  "Follow me if you want to live," she tells me. We walk quickly through the doors ahead and through a whole new row of seats. She leads me to the seat in the front and sits me down.

  "There. She won't be able to see you if she passes through those doors and she won't be able to sit near you," she says. 

  "Thanks," I say.

  "No problem," she tells me with a wink. Well, I'd rather have her flirt with me than the lady.

 

***

 

 I borded off the plane and went to look for Drake. I spot him at the luggage pick up area and start walking towards there. That is, until the creepy old lady comes up to me.

  "There you are! I missed you in the plane. Where did you go?" she asks, trailing a finger down my chest. It went all the way down and before it touched my important part, I grabbed it and pulled it away.

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