"We're all familiar with the phrase 'no strings attached' but what happens when the strings are attached?"
Chloe is 17 years old. She's shy but talkative once you know her, she has one dream - to become a chartered accountant. There is, however, on...
That was what I woke up thinking about. I didn't know how I felt about meeting Paul's parents. What if they didn't like me? You're not really his girlfriend so they don't have to like you. More importantly, what if they kicked me out of the apartment? Or if they wanted me to start paying rent? I could never afford to pay rent.
They wouldn't do that, would they?
I didn't think they would. The Jamesons were wealthy people so they wouldn't demand rent from me because, well, it's not like they needed the money anyway. Tossing the negative thoughts away, I started fixing myself up. Yes, I wore makeup.
Gotta look good for the in-laws.
But the makeup was not that heavy because I didn't want a cake face. I just applied some lip gloss and mascara - that was it.
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I entered the kitchen and my nostrils were immediately greeted by the delicious smell of pancakes. Paul was working his magic on the stove and me...
Well, let's just say that I was working my magic on checking him out.
"If it isn't my gorgeous girlfriend," Paul said with exaggerated enthusiasm, "sweetheart, have breakfast with me." Pulling out a chair, he gestured for me to sit down. For some unfathomable reason, Paul was noticeably nice that morning - too nice.
I smelled a rat.
The idiot was up to something. But what? I still had to figure that part out. "Honey," I began sweetly, "what are you up to?" He didn't reply. I decided to act like I had let it go - for now - and I started munching on the delicious breakfast prepared by my boyfriend.
Every now and again, I would shoot him a look that made him aware of the fact that I knew he was up to something, although I had no idea of what that something was. Finally deciding to put me out of my misery, he stated: "Baby, I'm not planning anything," and just when I was starting to relax, he said, "but I think I must have accidentally spilled some laxatives while making those pancakes."
"Laxatives, as in the substances that cause diarrhea?" I couldn't believe him.
"Yup," he never forgot to pop the 'p' and I was pissed.
"Paul, you want me to have loose stools?"
"Why not?" He replied nonchalantly.
"You son of a bi-" I was about to say it but then I remembered that his parents were arriving and calling them bitches wouldn't make such a good first impression.
Oh, to hell with good impressions!
"You son of a bitch! How could you do that to me? And you had to do it today? What will your parents think of me when I have to leave for the bathroom every two seconds?" I wanted to kill the bastard. Do you want to know what his response was?
