REMOVED INDEFINITELY

Him and Her
One Shot

Her

I was exasperated.

No, I was aggravated beyond disbelief to the point of two choices: laugh at the stupidity of it all or sharpen a knife for the kill. Maybe I should do the former first, and then follow up with the latter. Then I would be totally satisfied.

I inwardly cried out in anger before I forced myself to relax my posture. Okay, this was no time to freak out and start planning the way you'll murder him, I told myself, taking in a calm breath and counting to ten. Just . . . calm . . . down . . .

"Are you done looking constipated so I can tell you to get the hell out of my sight?" his bored tone said from across the table.

I wanted to murder him with that pen he was holding. Grinding my teeth together, I opened my eyes and flashed him my most patient and all-together smile, when I really wanted to jump over the table and punch that bloody smirk off his goddamn face.

Fine, so there wasn't really a smirk, but I can so sense his arrogance. Anyone (if in the room) could literally feel it bouncing off his form. One of the things I highly disliked about Austin Riaz. You think that the cliché stopped in high school, but alas, it just wouldn't die, like I thought it would once we graduate. No, instead it had to follow you and stab you in the back when you aren't looking.

Not that I'm living a cliché, mind you. I'm just saying, this stupid raisin a few feet away from me practically fills in all the requirements for your typical bad ass player. I know. Gag me, right?

"You're glaring," the dark haired boy pointed out flatly. "If you want to kill me so bad, what's stopping you?"

So breathtakingly annoying. . .

I lifted my deadly glare to his face.

Well, if he's offering. . .

Realizing my expression, I quickly wiped it off my face and placed my most charming smile on my face. I can't hurt you, you stupid cow, because you're my goddamn boss's son . . . That and the fact that you're physically stronger than me. Oh cruel Fate, why?

"Look," I began calmly, "I know you don't like this predicament. But we have to do this, okay?"

From across the table, I saw the way his jaw tightened as he glared at me once more. Ah, I think I'm getting used to it. I mean, it has been thirty minutes; enough time for him to glare at me and get myself accustomed to the way his eyes blazed as if he was mentally picturing you dead in his mind. . .

Not a comforting thought, but at least I'm immune to it, right? I adjust to things pretty quickly.

"Why the hell would my father send me a babysitter!" he snapped, not for the first time.

I hid my wince carefully. Jeeze, talk about anger management. . .

"You've just gotten out of an accident, Mr. Riaz," I said calmly, trying to sooth him with my wonderful voice (ahem). "He knows that you're never in bed and you're constantly doing paper work when you should be resting," I said, giving him a pointed look as my eyes swept over his entire desk covered with paper. "I'm here to make sure you get some rest; I am not a babysitter."

"Like hell," he spat. "Tell my father I am fully capable of taking care of myself, alone, and without someone watching over me. As you can see, I am perfectly fine."

"I've been given strict rules to stay in your household until I get you to sleep," I said in a clear, calm tone. "The faster you get resting, the faster you get rid of me."

"Get out." His expression was deadly calm and I was tempted to do as he was told. Seriously, try looking into those steel grey eyes; they were so emotionless.

"I stand by the orders given to me," I replied back, determined.

His lips pulled into a sneer. "Fine," he said curtly before he turned back to the paper work on his desk and multitasked by doing something on his laptop.

I inhaled sharply. He was just so stubborn I wanted to slap him silly. How hard was lying in bed and resting? Seriously? I shifted in my seat, my eyes sweeping over his face. He had the rough look of a boy who's been through a lot in life, and that's saying a lot since he's only . . . What? Twenty three? That cold barrier he has up made itself known to me the instant I walked into his office to find him bent over his desk, muttering to himself. When he looked up at me with those murderous eyes I was sure I'd turn and flee for my life.

Surprisingly, I stayed rooted to my spot. He certainly knows how to look intimidating.

I've heard a lot about him in the company, especially from young women who worked there. I, of course, having only started about a year ago, haven't seen him in my life until now. They say he likes to lock himself in his office until someone has to literally drag him out. I figure him to be those career obsessed men who had nothing else to do in life. Apparently, I'm pretty sure my assumption is correct so far. He had just gotten out of a car accident and he's working.

Insane. The man had to be insane.

A sudden gasp escaped my lips when I caught sight of his chest. This also seemed to gain his attention because he looked up sharply from his work to focus his apparent annoyed gaze on my form. Ignoring the look, I firmly locked my gaze on the red stain making itself known on his shirt. "You're bleeding," I informed him flatly, trying to keep the concern out of my voice.

At that information, he looked down at his chest before shrugging and proceeded to continue his typing.

What was he, an idiot? Glaring at his form, I rose from my seat and boldly made my way around his desk and straight to where he was planted. I stared at his head for a moment as he ignored my presence. Maybe he didn't know I was there, or maybe he just didn't bother wasting time and energy on paying attention to people like me . . . Either way, I was going to make myself known whether he liked it or not.

I cleared my throat. "Mr. Riaz, I need to attend to your wound."

No reply.

Um, okay. Another tactic. "Seriously, sir, it's bleeding rather badly."

Silence. Ugh, what an annoying twit.

Annoyed, I poked his back without thinking. "Look, do you want to bleed to death while you're typing on your laptop?"

His hands paused for a fraction of a second before resuming its swift pace.

I inwardly moaned. "Mr. Riaz, seriously, you're acting rather immature. I just need to rewrap those bandages and check if they're all right."

My only response was the vague sound of keys being pressed.

Well, screw you, too.

Without saying anything, I whirled his chair around and looked at him straight in the eye. His eyes seemed to hold nothing, but his surprise was evident by the way it widened ever so slightly. I took in a calm breath. "I really don't want to be blamed and thrown in jail for your stupid acts that lead to your death, okay? So just listen to me and get up so I treat your goddamn wounds," I clenched out.

He stared at me, and from the looks of it, it seemed as if he was calculating my face. I frowned inwardly. What the hell was up with him? After a moment or two, he lifted his hands up and, astonishingly, he pushed me away.

Okay, let me say that again.

He pushed me away.

Not forcibly, but enough to have me stumbling. It was probably due to the surprise that entered my system that he actually was bold enough to do that. He looked up at me, almost arrogantly, before turning back calmly and went on with life as if nothing had happened. Me? Well, I'm still looking like that idiot that's standing behind his chair.

I took in a deep breath and mentally hardened my guard. Well, this was going to be harder than I expected. . .

Him

Just what the hell was my father thinking of sending someone to take care of me? Seriously, I really would love to know. Sure, I got into a stupid car accident, but I'm alive, aren't I? Shouldn't he be happy that I'm at least well enough to start reading and signing documentaries? But no. Instead, he sends me a girl.

I am twenty three, damnit!

I do not need someone to watch over my every move; someone who will tell me what to do and when.

Especially not by an annoying female who thinks she knows everything. Did she not know who I was? Does she not know what I'm capable of with my bare hands? Surely she's heard all those rumours about me . . . Annoying, but they work to keep aggravating people like her off my backs.

God, and it didn't help that she was so damn gorgeous either.

Way to go, dad.

I couldn't wait to have a lovely conversation with him. Really.

I stole a quick dismissive glance to my right and saw her staring hard at the floor from where she had now placed herself at instead of behind my chair. Her dark hair was tied up into a high pony tail that swished with every step she took (not that I noticed. . .) and her eyes were the most beautiful shade of green I have ever seen.

Apparently I haven't seen much around the world.

Resisting the urge to sigh aloud in annoyance, I narrowed my gaze fiercely as I forced his train of thought to take a different track. Though, really, it was a difficult task to complete with the most stubborn woman that dare argue with me, just standing a few feet to my right. . .

Yes, I would enjoy a little conversation with my father about sending random people to my house unexpectedly.

Especially green eyed ones.

This was just wonderful.