"You're a horrible person, you know that right?" I told Christopher, now speeding down my street. "You claim that you're not a jerk and then you lie to my brother just to get a rise out of him?"
He stayed silent, his focus still on the road. His knuckles were clenching the steering wheel so tight that they had turned white.
"So you have nothing to say for yourself?" I rolled my eyes.
The nerve of this guy!
Huffing in anger, I crossed my arms and diverted my attention to the passing scenery. Just when I thought that I may have judged him prematurely, he does something like this to remind me exactly who he is. Just when the silence became unbearable, he broke it.
"I don't want to talk about it."
I scoffed, my anger returning to me once more. "Considering that you basically told my brother that we slept together, you don't get to say when or when we don't talk about it."
"I just wanted to get a rise out of him." He said, turning his attention to me. A flash of regret shone in his eyes, before being replaced by his usual mischievous one.
"But honestly you should be thinking me. Most girls would love for me to say that I've slept with them," a smug smile now sat on his face. "So you're welcome."
"Excuse me! I should wipe that smile right off your face you little piece of- "
I cut myself off, looking for the nearest thing to me that I could hurt him with. Settling on my ballet flats, I grabbed one and whacked him repeatedly on the arm as hard as I could.
He began to laugh, seemingly unaffected by blows.
Darn his muscular arms.
"All jokes aside though," he said, his features softening. "I am sorry."
"It's ok," I said. Even though I was still pissed, I had no clue how long I was going to be with him tonight. It would be exhausting to be mad at him the entire time.
"Just where are you taking me?"
We had been on the road for about ten minutes, and this side of town was unfamiliar to me. He ignored my question, only answering with silence. I tried to nag him, hoping that it would make him talk.
"Are we going to the beach?" I asked. "Because I really like the beach. I like the ocean too. I swim there all the time. One time when I was a kid I almost drowned in a pool. It was very traumatic for me. I should probably see a therapist."
I saw a slight tick in his jaw, showing that my annoyance tactics were working.
"Are we going to the movies? I really like movies. But not action movies like Star Wars. I don't know how people even watch Star Wars to be honest. Are we going to the park? Are we going camping? Are you going to murder me in the woods?"
"I wish," he said underneath his breath.
"Hey I heard that!"
"We're going back to my house." He finally told me.
I don't know what he meant by that, but if he was trying to insinuate me hooking up with him, then he was mistaken.
"If you think that I'm going to do anything with you, you're wrong." I warned him. "So unless my house is code for IHOP, you can drop me off."
"IHOP?" he asked, completely missing the point. "You do know that it's eleven at night right?"
I huffed, getting frustrated. Even though he completely dodged my question, I still felt the need to defend my favorite pancake house.
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Dancing With The Player | ✓Teen Fiction
When Brielle's dance instructor gets mad at her for missing yet another rehearsal, she gives Brielle an ultimatum: lose her solo that she needs to get into Julliard, or teach Christopher Russel, the school's quarterback, ballet in two months. With...