"So, let me get what you're saying. You want us to marry our hypothetical daughter off to the head of another company's son, so we can merge and become richer?" I asked, dumbfounded. My eyes widened in realization, and I barely could speak.

Nick was bouncing up and down on his seat like a little child. A grin was plastered on his face, and he looked like he was constipated. "Yes! It's a perfect plan! What could possibly go wrong?"

I cocked my head to the side and planted my right hand firmly onto my hip.

Was he serious?

"Well, maybe the guy won't want to marry our daughter," I stated matter-of-factly. My voice had a bit of confidence in it. I tapped my foot as I waited for his dumbass response.

Nick rolled his eyes. "Of course he'll want to marry her. She's a Monroe after all. My family is considered to be very attractive." He smirked cockily and brushed off imaginary lint from his left shoulder using his right hand. The smirk disappeared quickly though, and he pouted. "Well, unless she inherited your looks. Then, we might have a problem."

My lips set in a firm line. I inhaled and exhaled slowly for a second, attempting to refrain myself from punching him in the face. Normally, I would've just ignored his insults. But, today, I felt extremely unfortunate-looking.

Elise, to say the least, wasn't too overjoyed to find her precious bear hanging in a noose. Brynn swore that she heard her screams all the way from the coffee shop. When I got home, I expected her to attack me as soon I stepped foot into the room. However, the opposite happened. She sat on the couch, as usual, doing her homework. She acted as if I wasn't there. Needless to say, I was so happy.

Happy until I washed my hair later that night. 

After exiting the shower, I looked at myself in the mirror. Instead of staring at a blond-haired, lanky girl with a bird's nest for hair, I saw a smurf.

That bitch put blue dye into my shampoo and conditioner.

It took approximately nine washes to turn my hair color from a dark blue to a baby blue. I scheduled an appointment at a nearby salon to get the remaining dye washed out, but the only appointment available was next week.

So, I, Belle Wilkes, will be a motherfucking smurf for a whole damn week.

"What if she doesn't want to marry that guy because she's in love with another guy?" I proposed, now crossing my arms below my chest. My eyes squinted slightly. I wanted to win this battle.

Nick huffed and sighed. With both his hands, he flattened his crisp, navy blue polo and then ran his hands through his hair. After blinking four or five times, he replied, "Who cares? Marriages aren't based on love. They're based on money and power. Do you think my parents loved each other? Puh-lease. My mother was twenty-two years younger than my father." While he was speaking, his eyes were glued to the table top. Now, he was staring at me straight in the eye. Bloodshot and teary, his eyes had water brimming on their lids.

I gasped, my eyes becoming as large as soccer balls. For one, I was shocked that he would reveal something so personal to me.

He hated me, and yet, he was so open to me.

"Well, no daughter of mine is going to be forced to marry. Let's move on, and we'll continue to argue about the arranged marriage later," I mumbled while fumbling with my thumbs. I wanted to hear more about his parents, but I knew that it must have been a touchy subject to him. I dropped my eyes from his and looked at my white sneakers.

After three minutes of silence, Nick spoke. His voice was soft and shaky. "How's the budget going?"

I immediately bent down and grabbed my lime green backpack. I had the bag since eighth grade, so it had a few rips, and the color was faded quite a bit. Since the zippers broke a few years ago, I easily stuffed my hand into the bag and founded the bent yellow folder with our financial papers. I smacked open the folder, and with my right hand's pointer finger and thumb, I removed the sheet titled, "Budget." 

My eyes scanned the print, looking for any alarming numbers. Math wasn't my strongest subject, so it took a few seconds for me to add and subtract the bills. Apparently, Mr. Douchebag had somewhere important to go because he kept groaning and stomping his foot like a little child.

"Can you stop? You're ruining my concentration," I snapped, shooting him a glare. My hands were shaking, and I was almost crumpling the paper.

"Hopefully our fake daughter won't be as stupid as you. This is pathetic!"

"Well, we'll have even more of a problem if she has your jackass attitude," I retorted defensively.

I didn't like to be called stupid. Lately, I was bombing almost every single assignment, and it was getting on my nerves. I used to be the big fish in the sea. Now, I was at the bottom of the food chain.

And, it sucked.

He pursed his lips and flicked his hair. His brown hair looked soft and enticing, and it took all of my strength to not go over to him and mess it up. "Sorry, I didn't know that having a personality made me a jackass." His hands popped up the collar of his polo.

There was silence; I assumed that our little banter was over. I calculated the remaining numbers in my head and sighed in relief. "We're on task. We even have money to spare."

He nodded and with his left hand, scratched the back of his neck a few times. He stood up and turned himself towards me, so we were face to face. His brown eyes were cold and hypnotizing. I couldn't stop myself from looking into them.

"I think we're done for today. Well," he chortled, "I have a fuck-date, so I'll see you tomorrow."

I was an open book, and people could always read me easily. My emotions were etched across my face, and another deep laugh left his perfect lips.

"Don't tell me that you're a virgin!" His voice was a combination of disbelief and amusement.

Oh, God! It was like the cat got my tongue; I could barely think or speak. My cheeks were tomato red, and I bit my lip nervously. Crossing my arms below my chest, I fixed my posture, hoping confidence would ooze out me. "Me? A virgin? Puh-lease!"

"Is that so? Why is your nose growing, then?" he asked, checking me out. He winked at me, causing me to spazz.

I tried concentrating on the pulsing vein on his neck. Taking a deep breath, I kept my composure. Lying was never my specialty, but I hoped I was doing a good job. "Yeah. In the South, the teens are like bunnies in the heat."

He didn't believe me, obviously.

Like I said, my face was as open as Miley Cyrus' legs.

"Sure."

"Yep."

"Sure."

"Yep."

"Virgins say what!" 

"What?" I questioned stupidly. After five seconds of intense thinking, I realized what he had said. I felt the heat rise in my face, and the steam was definitely coming out of my ears. "You...you tricked me!"

I wanted to kick myself in the ass for letting him beat me. I was the one who was supposed to trick him, not the other way around. This was my game, and I always won. I could speak my way out of anything.

This twerp just had to be perfect at everything.

See, this was why I hated attractive people so much. God not only decided to make them hot, but he also gave them brains, toned bodies, high metabolisms, and nice teeth. Life wasn't fair. In middle school, I was the tall nerd with glasses and braces. Meanwhile, this girl named Tiffany had already grown to a C cup, and she could eat whatever she wanted without gaining any weight. The worst part was that I couldn't call her an idiot. She was actually smart, and she cared about school. 

I remembered that I was so happy when I heard she was moving.

Happy until I heard she was moving because her dad became a multi-millionaire after selling some stocks.

"Yes, I did. Now, if you excuse me, I have a girl to bang," he said as he curtsied. He swiftly bent over to grab his leather backpack and sprinted through the door.

Sighing, I checked the time on my watch. I had twenty minutes before I had to go to work, and I barely even touched my homework for the weekend.

**

"Woah, chill, waitress," the customer with the peace sign on his shirt coaxed as he held up his hands, palm up, in front of him defensively. "I just was saying how I thought your blue hair was mainstream, that's all. Blue is so overdone."

I snatched the licorice black menu from his plate. "Look, dude. This," I paused while I pointed to my hideous hair, "is a mistake. Anyways, do you think you are a motherfucking hipster just because you say 'chill' and 'mainstream,' and you have a peace sign on your shirt?" I eyed him up and down, and I could visibly seem him gulp.

"N-n-no," he stuttered and picked up his book and hid behind it. "I'm just being informative."

I made a clicking noise with my tongue and tapped my foot. "Now, what do you want to eat?"

"I don't know what you have to offer. You took my menu." He lifted his head up slightly; I could see his nervous eyes on the top of his book. The rest of his face was covered.

"I gave you half an hour to decide!" I planted one hand firmly on my hip. I scanned the cafe, and about two more groups of college kids walked in. I had no more time for chit chat.

"Well, I don't like pastries, warm drinks, soups, salads, or bagels," he murmured innocently as he placed the book onto the table. His hand now then started stroking a piece of fuzz that he called a beard. 

I took a deep breath and automatically regretted it. This guy smelled like pee, and my nose wrinkled in disgust.

Did you see that extra room in your dorm with white tiles and towels in it? Well, buddy, that was supposed to be a shower. Learn how to use it, and stop smelling like shit!

"You want a smoothie," I stated and scribbled down the first flavor that came to mind. "What size do you want?" 

"I don't like smoothies--"

"Small! Great! I'll get your order here soon!" My felt pen frantically moved onto the paper as I finished writing the order. After I was done, I shoved the writing utensil back behind my left ear and slumped over to the counter before the hipster argued with what I decided.

Brynn was sitting in the stool next to me. She was on her break, and her nose was shoved into the English book we had to read tonight. Her eyes flickered to me, and she placed a neon orange paper into the book and closed it. After placing the book into her clean, white apron pocket, she swiveled the chair, so she could talk to me.

I groaned, jealous of how perfect she looked. Her hair was sleek and shiny, and her clothes did not have one stain on them. If she told me to shove her shirt into my mouth, I would without hesitation. Unlike her, my clothes were covered with flour and spilled coffee. My baby blue hair was in a messy high bun, and it was knotted. I even broke out on my forehead.

"Bad week?" she queried. The sides of her lip were tilted down, and she placed her hands on top of mine.

I nodded and stretched out my legs. I had terrible cramps in my calves.

"Thought so. You looked like you wanted to rip that guy's balls off and then feed them to the dogs." A high-pitched giggle echoed through the room, making me smile. Her voice had the power to make me laugh. Her slight accent was too funny.

"School has been hard. How do you manage everything so well?" I lifted up my right hand and gestured to her neatly stacked textbooks with piles of papers beside them. There were homework papers, graded tests, and class assignments. My eyes found its way to her English essay; she received an 'A+.'

"Hon, I'm Asian. My parents made me study everyday of my life. To them, an 'A-' is an 'F.' I came home once with a 'B+' on a spelling test, and my dad nearly had a heart attack," she joked as she stood up. "Anyhoo, I need to go frolic and help these nice customers!" She did a little jig and twirl before running off to a nearby table.

I rolled my eyes. She was so innocent and energetic.

She would get killed in the real world.

I scanned the cafe for new groups. At the bottom left table, I saw Elise sitting with a group of guys and girls. They were all the same--the girls were wearing sweater sets, jeans, and riding boots while the guys wore button downs and khakis. They were evil clones of each other, except, unlike Elise, the girls weren't particularly pretty. One of the girl's noses looked like a beak.

"Belle, can you get that table?" Carey, my manager, begged. She was carrying three plates, and I could see her arms shake. I felt so bad for her. This was her third job, and the bags under her eyes told me that she wasn't doing too well. "Please?" A pang of guilt appeared in my chest.

"Okay, Carey," I replied sweetly, taking a fresh, blue notebook from the counter. I put on my best smile and stepped over to their table.

Elise's face lit up with amusement. She crossed her arms, and her perfect eyebrows arched slightly. I silently cursed God for making such a beautiful person so evil. Her brown hair was in waves, and her  olive green sweater made her eyes pop.

"What can I get you?" I flipped the notebook to a new page and wrote down the table number. I wanted to keep my eye contact limited, so I made sure I focused on the tables behind them.

"Nice hair. It brings out your pimples," the girl with beak laughed as she smacked her menu on the table. Her giggle was nasally and unattractive, and I could see her chest wheeze rapidly.

"Thanks. Nice beak for a nose. When I stare at you, it makes me feel like I'm bird watching," I spewed kindly with a smile.

The girl shut up, and her cheeks were bright red. She shoved her hand into her black Chanel bag and pulled out a mini mirror. She began checking herself in it and grimaced when she saw that, she, indeed, was a bird.

"Just get us some coffees," Elise demanded, annoyed that her friend's attack on my hair didn't affect me. She crossed her arms, and her lip pouted dramatically. "And make it snappy."

"You have to give me more information. Do you want milk in it? Do you want a lot of sugar? Tell me," I sighed and pushed a few loose strands of hair behind my ears. There were so many places I wanted to be right now, and this wasn't one of the places.

"Skim milk. Not that much--"

She stopped in the middle of her sentence, causing my eyebrows to furrow in confusion. Her lips parted a few centimeters, and she was gazing at something hungrily. Her hands immediately flattened out the wrinkles in her sweater, and she puffed out her chest.

Why was she looking at the door like it was piece of meat?

Before I could question what she was drooling over, a pair of strong arms laced around my waist. The person immediately smashed their lips to mine, and the smell of his aftershave indicated who he was. I placed both of my arms around his neck and pulled him closer. This was totally not taking it slow, and I would scold him later for it, but I wanted to anger Elise. Plus, I was lonely this past month and a half, and it was nice to be near someone familiar.

After a few seconds, he inched his face away from mine and cooed, "I'm glad that you're as glad to see me as I am to see you." He flashed me a toothy grin and a wink.

I smiled back at him. I could feel the stares I was getting from Elise and her posse, but I didn't care.

"Well, babe," he said affectionately as he let go of me completely and turned us towards Elise's table, "introduce me to your friends."

I knew why he was doing this. I often texted him about Elise, and I sent him a picture of her. He must've saw that she was here in front of me when he walked in, and he probably saw the way she was looking at him. He wanted to avenge me.

We were still friends technically, nothing more. This was an act.

Partially.

"Guys," I giggled and placed my hands onto his rock-hard chest, "this is my Ash."

Elise's jaw dropped, and I winked at her.

Oh, how I wish I brought a camera to picture this moment!

*****

So, Ash is back XD

So, I have so many new ideas for this story, and I'm excited.

Hope you are too!

Limit: 30 comments/30 votes.

Remember, a random commenter gets a dedication. Your comment could be, "I love this!," or "upload soon!" and I could still pick yours.

I just do eenie-meanie-minie-moe XD

I made a trailer for my story. Hope you like it XD

Until next time, peeacee!