Only If I Posted Half the Stuff I Didn't Post

Halestorm II

 

 

“Niall, I can’t do this. It hurts.”

“Yes you can. You won’t regret it.”

“But it doesn’t fit!”

“It’ll fit, stop making excuses. It’ll stop hurting after a while.”

“I feel like a whore.”

“That’s because you are. Now shut up and put the bloody shoe on, twat.”

 

I grimaced, taking the shoes from him. I swear I looked like a drag queen. I’d thought that maybe looking like this might have made me feel better about this date (do not ask the logic behind that, I myself didn’t know) but clearly I was wrong.

“Dude, I seriously—“

“Look, I’ve gotta go soon and I can’t do that until you leave. You’re a horny bitch—“

“Hey!”

“Admit it! If I’ve learnt anything about you the past couple of weeks, it’s that you can’t possibly get into a relationship and you don’t really want to either. Yet you still agreed to go to this date. What else could that mean?”

“Okay, fine.” I huff, grabbing my clutch. “Continue.”

“The body wants what it wants. The mind always wins; it’s time to cut the body some slack. You gotta take one for the team, you know?”

“Jeez, someone hasn’t gotten laid in a while…” I mumble.

“That’s beside the point. Shut up.”

I put on the whore heels and frowned. “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”

“Very,” he grinned. “It’s not every day I get to boss you around.”

 

I sighed and checked myself out in the mirror.  Black tube dress that barely reached my knees, three inch stilettos, smoky eyes and bright red lips. Jesus. I looked too slutty for my liking.

“How do I look?” I asked, looking at him in the mirror.

“Like a very expensive prostitute. Now get out of here.”

 

I took a deep breath and was about to leave when he stopped me. “Wait, wait! I gotta take a picture of this.” He fumbled to find his phone and finally held it out, snapping. I smiled sweetly, and stuck out my middle finger. He grinned. “There, all done.” He said, smug.

I didn’t have the heart to retort or form a sassy comeback. I simply turned to the door and took deep breath. Let’s do this shit.

 

-

 

I entered the restaurant a few minutes early. Well, if you call fifty-two minutes a few minutes. He’d texted me the time in the 24-hour format, and I’d been dumb enough to interpret the time wrong. Twenty-two, and I can’t tell the time. Sometimes I didn’t understand how I was supposed to be a childhood genius. I think they calculated my IQ wrong, because that’s the only conclusion I could form.

 

I sat there, drinking water and staring into the soul of the little kid at the table beside me. I think his mother was a little concerned, but had enough sense to hide it. But then again, if I picked up on it, maybe it wasn’t all that well hidden after all. I’d drained four glasses of water by the time Eric finally decided to bless me with his presence. One look at him, and I’d forgiven for being late. Well, he wasn’t really late, but that’s beside the point. Because when someone looks that ravishing, everything is forgotten.