To Break Her Heart

Chapter 9 ~ "Because not everyone has the IQ of a dead raccoon like you do."

A/N: Sorry for the short length! I'll make up for it next chapter :)


Chapter 9: "Because not everyone has the IQ of a dead raccoon like you do."

As Luke grinned mischievously, holding out the stool for me to sit in, I couldn't help but be suspicious.

You really couldn't blame me. That smile was responsible for a few broken bones between us and lots of grounding time.

"Sit down," he urged, beckoning me.

"You first," I replied firmly.

He rolled his eyes. "I'm just trying to make up for being a rude arse, now will you just sit?"

"No," I replied firmly.

He let out an exasperated sigh and patted the seat of the stool. "C'mon," he urged. "Sit while I'm feeling polite."

I shrugged, feeling too tired to put up a fight. "I'm going to regret this," I muttered as I stalked towards him and made a move to sit in the stool he'd pulled out for me.

Except I didn't get to sit down, because the twat ripped it away just as my bum was about to touch it, making me fall to the floor.

While he was cracking up, I rolled my eyes. "I really should've expected that," I mused, picking up the other stool. While he was choking on his own spit like some sort of delusional hyena, I calmly swept it behind his knees.

His knees immediately buckled and he pitched forward, landing in a similar position to me from a few moments earlier. He smirked up at me. "Nice," he commented admiringly. "Now help me up?"

I ignored him. "Nope," I rejected, scooting away from his flailing limbs. I wouldn't put it past him to pull me down next to him. I could do without the added bruises, thank you very much.

"Jordy!" he griped, still on the floor.

"You know," I said candidly, "you seem to find yourself in this position quite often, don't you think?"

"No thanks to you."

I smiled mildly at him as he stayed lazily on his arse. "Get up," I told him. "Or I'll eat all the cake."

Before I could even lean forward, his hands grabbed the legs of my stool and he hauled himself up, sitting down on the stool next to me.

"I knew that would get you, you greedy skinny fatso," I said smugly.

"Skinny fatso is an oxymoron," he replied haughtily, turning his nose up.

"You're an oxymoron," I said immediately, then mentally face palmed at how horrible that comeback was.