Wattpad (A Novel: Parody)

(3) Good girl out smarts the bad boy

CHAPTER THREE - GOOD GIRL OUT SMARTS THE BAD BOY.

The following morning, I wake to the sun pushing its way through my curtains like a fat chick at KFC. I'm smug at my lack of hangover, but also confused. I'm always so confused. Still, it's Saturday morning -time to get with the program. I'm not sure what the program is, though just thinking about it is comforting.

As I brush my teeth, I tell everyone on Facebook that I'm brushing my teeth. Then I post a mid-shower selfie. I have to blur out my lady parts with an Instagram filter, and I sigh because no filter can hide my obvious ugliness.

Drake "likes" the photo almost instantly. So does my Mom. Erin just comments about a film called Psycho. Somebody else retorts NO, ERIN -YOU'RE THE PSYCHO, and then we all have a little LOL party right there in the comments section. My friends are so cray.

I'm just wrapping a towel around myself and padding back into my room when my cell begins to ring with an unrecognized number.

Huh.

I have to stop giving my digits to homeless guys when I've run out of change.

Exhaling heavily, I answer. "Y'ellow?"

"Good morning, madam," a deep, dark British voice murmurs.

I freeze. Oh my God. It's him.

"Ryder, is that you?" I manage to blurt.

"And how did you sleep, gosling?"

"Uh...gosling?"

"It's like kitten or little bird, but more original. I'm very original, in case you haven't noticed."

"Oh, you're original, all right."

"Yeah." He chuckles. "I get that a lot."

Silence. I pause. He breathes down the phone and with every inhalation, it's like he's undressing me. I feel naked.

Wait...I am naked. My towel fell off.

"So guess what you're doing this evening?" asks Ryder.

"Reading Wattpad, accusing some rookie bloggers of stealing my content on tumblr, and...uh...might eat half a pack of cheese."

Ryder makes a sound like a game show buzzer. "Wrong. Guess again."

"Sometimes I watch Gossip Girl reruns with Drake?"

"Wrong."

"Um. Uh."

My palms grow sticky with nervous sweat. It's Saturday morning -nobody told me there'd be a pop quiz.

"Cleaning up Erin's party vomit in my room, and then watching cats steal dogs' beds on YouTube?"

"Wrong. Come on-you can't possibly be this thick, and I'm definitely not this subtle," he grumbles.

"I give up." I let out a great, heaving sigh.

"We made a little deal last night, so I'm picking you up at eight," he says firmly. "We're having dinner. Wear something pretty."

I try to compose myself, but my racing heart gets the best of me.

"Um...dinner?" I wheeze.

"Yep. You know, food. Consumed. Usually sometime after five p.m."

I'm not even sure I can wear something pretty, but then I remember that Erin will probably give me an epic makeover in the space of five lines.

Then I remember that Ryder's a jackass who makes fun of my best friend and tosses away hearts like single-use condoms.

"Uh, Ryder?"

"Yes?"

I wince as I speak. "I don't think I can go out with you."

"And why would that be?"

"Because- because-" Holy crapbags, I just can't bring myself to say it. Or to say no to him. He's just so strangely alluring. I need an excuse, and quick. "Because I have...a bag. To deliver."

Think, Zoe!

"With a bomb in it."

He clears his throat. He sounds a bit phlegmy, but also sexy. "So let me get this straight. You can't go out with me tonight because you're a threat to national security?"

"Yes. Precisely." I should take up drama major in college next year. I'm this good.

"But you see, that's just another thing we have in common. From the moment I saw you, I also had a sack about to explode. Two of them, actually."

I begin to panic. Erin said Ryder was into some serious shit, and I know that when a guy has a British accent, there's a chance that he could be evil. But I never had Ryder down as an actual terrorist!

"Gosling," he purrs. "Relax. I'm just playing with you."

"Oh." I sigh with relief. "Thank God."

"So I'll see you at eight," he says, sounding wickedly pleased with himself.

"Eight sounds great."

"I'm...looking forward to it." And then he hangs up.

You know, it was seriously tough going there for a second. I was in real danger of betraying lovely Drake and actually agreeing to go out with that dastardly douche. I should probably call Erin and tell her about how ruthlessly I outsmarted him -she'll love it.

I try to call Erin, but all I get is a weird voicemail message about her inbox is full. Which is utterl-utter-ut-what the chips? So annoying.