CH 4: Rough Night

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~ Kiondra ~

Branson answers me with a hard nod. Haha, I've got you right where I want you. Pushing myself up, I make sure to slide across his manhood. Typical male.

I saunter to my seat and sit then pour myself a glass of wine. I have to admit though, he looks pretty good. It's a first for him.

"You ready to order?" I ask in a cheery voice while his face is beet red even in this dim lighting.

"Um yeah let's do that..." He taps on the bell and a waiter comes out almost immediately.

"Ready to order?" Winking at him, I nod. He returns the gesture and I'm not even thinking about Branson. Apparently he was paying attention because he loudly clears his throat. The waiter shoots an annoyed look in his direction and asks him what he'd like.

"I want Alfredo with extra basil with a salad on the side." The waiter then turns to me.

"I'd like shrimp scampi with a salad also...and you ontop would be nice." I mumble the last part and he looks at me with a smile and heads off. "Thank you!"

Turning attention back to Branson, he's now looking at me with a glare. He's known to run hot and cold.

"Why'd you out of all people have to be my date?! Like really this is some bullshit." My response is quick.

"Oh shut up you whiny ass! I don't wanna be here as much as you do," I pull out a pen, recorder, and paper, "So let's get this over with."

"Full name?"

"Branson Miller."

"Date of birth?"

"November 22, 1984"


"Toronto, Ontario, Canada" Most hockey players are from Canada. I wish he'd play in his own country.

"Favorite color?"

"Black. Except when it comes to women like you." I'll be sure to put that in the magazine.

"Bite me. What you love about the Hartford Hawks hockey club?" Blah blah blah.

"The guys are great, the coaches do a great job of making plays that work with the team atmosphere, and the ice girls of course!" And that's Branson in a nutshell.

"I see, what are you future hockey career plans?"

"Win the Starling Cup this upcoming season and continue to be amazing like I already am." He flexes and I about vomit. What is his problem? I swear he lacks home training.

"That's about it for now." I write down a few observations of demeanor and body language holding back nothing. Getting the truth is the least I can do.

I turn the recorder off and my put the supplies in my purse. The waiter is coming with our food.

"Your Alfredo sir, and your shrimp scampi beautiful. Enjoy your meal gorgeous." He leaves without even giving Branson a passing glance. It was pretty amusing.

Just like the caveman he is, Branson devours his food while I eat slowly. We don't talk. I was enjoying my food, it's to die for. Branson looks at me with a serious expression on his face.

"God you're so fat! Have you ever considered Jenny Craig, gastric bypass, or starving yourself? Maybe then you wouldn't be so hideous. I'm sure your ex boyfriends agree." I couldn't believe what I was hearing. I had an ex boyfriend before I came to Connecticut who wanted me to be thin so badly that he locked me in a closet for 5 days with only water while he had sex in our bed. If the repairmen wouldn't have found me I'm pretty sure I would've died right there. Branson's comments don't really bother me, but this one struck home. Even after I spent all of this time getting ready. I thought I looked good.

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