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How To Turn A Good Girl Bad

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Okay so this isn't all I've wirtten but I'm thinking maybe I should wait a day (or possiby just a few hours) before I upload the next one. Anyway please enjoy I'm not sure I like this chapter too much so I'm not sure if it'll change at anytime ifrst I want to hear peoples comments on it so... :)

 

 

How To Turn A Good Girl Bad:

 

Step Sixteen: You Bring The Good Girl Home:::

 

 

“That colour just isn’t right.” I said staring at Blake’s failed attempt at cooking. It actually made my stomach churn a little. “You realise that most soup isn’t green right?” I asked bluntly. It wasn’t even a soft green either; it was a bright lime green.

Blake gave me a harsh glare. I shot him an easy grin. “Hey, don’t look at me like that. The truth hurts. It’s not my fault you can’t cook.”

“I can cook just fine.” He said defiantly, crossing his arms. I couldn’t stop a small snort of laughter. Blake and I were sat in his room, well I was anyway he was stood up with his hands on his hips, with an expression that said, ‘I spent hours slaving away over the stove, you better damn well eat what I made you’. The look suited him pretty well actually, but then again I’m not sure what look didn’t. Not that I would ever admit that to his face.

And before you get any ideas about us sitting alone in his room, don’t. It’s entirely innocent. We had decided it was best not to try to go back to my house with my mum in a bad mood.

It was weird seeing the inside of Blake’s room. For some reason I was still picturing it with the whole ‘rebel’ look. You know, the battered furniture, rubbish littered everywhere, clothes draped haphazardly across the floor, magazines with pictures of half naked girls, that one. But instead of that I was faced with a fairly clean room with blue bedding, green walls, and a few other ‘guy stuff’. Actually the messiest part of his room was one corner where there was a small TV with a game console (which one I’m not quite sure, gaming wasn’t high on my interest list) and some remotes lying on the floor, with the wires trailing across the floor.

I think what surprised me most was the desk in his room with some of his work books (here comes the shocking part) lying open! There was actual proof that Daniel Blake revised...sort of...but still... I mean I guess it made sense we had our end of year exams coming up but I figured if there was going to be one person who didn’t care, it would be Blake.

“Well are you going to eat it?” Blake said impatiently. My eyes snapped back to him, and then back to the ‘food’ in front of me. That was just another shock on top of the million that seemed to be piling up today. Blake actually insisted that he cooked for me. I’m not even sure why. But I’m not one to look a gift horse in the mouth. I wasn’t about to refuse that kind of opportunity.

Now I kind of wish I had.

I stirred my soup slowly with the spoon he had gotten me. I’m sure it was thicker than it was supposed to be, almost solid in fact. There were lumps of something brown floating to the top.

I looked back to Blake who was watching me, expectantly.

“You’re not actually going to make me eat this are you?” I asked slightly horrified by the prospect. I scrutinised his expression, searching for some kind of sign that this was all some kind of practical joke. The upset look he was giving me indicated he was deadly serious. “Please don’t make me eat this.” I begged.

A frown etched across his face. “What’s wrong with it?” He asked.

What’s right with it? The snarky sound of my bitchy inner voice retorted. “It doesn’t look edible.” I told him, opting for the ‘honesty is the best policy’ approach. I wrinkled up my nose.

He looked offended now. “What?! Yes it does!” He gasped loudly.

“Really it doesn’t.” I told him showing him the bowl. He looked at it with a blank expression, like he was waiting for something gruesome to happen to prove my point, like a furry monster jumping out and eating his face. Looking at the soup I couldn’t say that I completely ruled that out as a possibility of that actually happening.

It honestly looked that bad.

His expression was worse though. He looked slightly wounded.

My ‘good girl’ self was telling me to suck it up and eat it, just to make him happy. But one more look at it, and I just couldn’t. I groaned inwardly, avoiding looking at his face. I knew it would make me feel like I needed to eat it again.

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