Pointed Gun

Oh, Shit..

Syncear

"READY?"

Ready as I'll ever be.

Utterly prepared to be a bundle of nerves the second I stepped out of the house with him. Somewhere likely to be surrounded by people. People who owned TVs, phones, tablets, and frankly anything that could tell a story. My story.

If Blair had anything to do with anything, my missing face was on every tabloid, magazine, newspaper, and missing dog flyers without the dogs.

Then just regular flyers? Idiot.

Also, being out in the public eye with someone that could potentially sense any signal of distress I might give a dinning fellow in hopes of rescue wouldn't turn out too pretty for me or the one trying to get involved. Sacrificing a life just to save my ass would leave me with bad karma for a lifetime.

I muttered nothing as I mangled my fingers through my hair, trying to tame a few strays in the pull-down mirror in the passenger seat. Palms shaky and nose slowly misting over with a layer of anxiety sweat. I sighed.

"I don't think I'll ever be." I turned to him and his painted-on smile with a blank enough expression.

Watching as he unbuckled his seat belt with that same dagger of a smile to his pink lips, he leaned over the console. Moistening his lips teasingly and enough to piss in my cereal.

Why on earth did he choose to make himself even more attractive just to annoy me?

"You afraid I'll dim your light, Kitten?" I could sniff the laugh behind his serious words. He was making fun of me right to my face. A whole new level of doucheness for such a pretty boy.

I rolled my eyes. "You're so full of yourself."

He shrugged. "If I'm not, then who will?"

A question I will never answer.

I didn't even care to respond. Unlocking the door to help myself out clearly not speedy enough. Spending a second longer around that stupid smirk and I would find myself slapping it right off his stupid face. Or worse, tonguing him.

Such an asshole.

Crisp chills and the aroma of food took the air by storm. My coat zipped to my throat and my curls dangling around my shoulders, I waited rather impatiently for the slowpoke that practically rushed me. He was probably checking himself out in the rearview mirror just so he could quote on quote dim my light.

What a pathetic game a grown man decided to play with his prey. Whatever the hell I was to him. Not that it mattered much anyway.

I shook my head free of ugly thinking and turned my gaze and attention to the building. The outside of the restaurant's first impression on me was pure elegance. Or fancy for simpler terms. With trimmed hedges around the entirety of the two storybuilding,—the top floor an outside lounging area and bar protected by white canopies from what I could spot from down here,—tall stainless windows in the front and sides, and a shiny cut stone path leading guest right to the patterned glass double doors.

The place didn't exactly moan Boston's style not even a little. But hey, I could be totally wrong about that and everything else I'd come to know about him.