|Her Story His Story
Author: Raingypsy PM
Oneshot. An innocent incident leads to a domestic dispute. A story of he says, she says. Please Read and Review.Rated: Fiction T - English - Humor/Romance - Words: 633 - Reviews: 10 - Favs: 3 - Follows: 1 - Published: 10-03-09 - Status: Complete - id: 2727076
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
Hey Guys. This is a oneshot. Hope you enjoy it. I really liked writing it!
He was despicable. Just plain horrid in every way. And at the moment I abhorred him. I loathed everything about him, right down to the last crease in his jeans.
Who on earth did he think he was? The way he was acting, you'd of thought I had danced topless with half the male cast of Supernatural. After all, he was allowed to stand on stage every night, sounding like he'd inherited his vocal cords from The King himself and looking so damn inviting. God forbid I should actually talk to anyone. No, apparently that was considered 'flirting'. So what if one of them happened to be an attractive, successful lawyer? So what if said hottie offered to buy me a drink? I couldn't exactly say no, could I? A free drink was a drink, regardless if it was from a handsome stranger or the Queen of Sheba.
I had tried to explain this but he just wouldn't listen. He went on to tell me that nothing ever came free; there was always some underlying motive. Guys only bought girls drinks when they were after something. And that 'something' was definitely not a Sunday afternoon picnic in the park.
That's when the plate throwing started.
We were in the midst of a domestic. You know, those huge fights complete with screams of frustration, shaking hands and plate throwing? Well, at the moment, that pretty much summed up the situation I was in.
She stood across the room. Her hands clenched in anger, her brow a tad wrinkled and a small scowl on her face. She looked flustered, annoyed and so damn sexy.
So far she had thrown four plates, not that I was counting or anything. Luckily I had managed to avoid all but three, the last one coming into contact with my shoulder.
I had let out a string of profanities.
"Enough. Stop destroying all of our plates. You're being immature." I had yelled, before taking shelter behind the couch.
"Immature?" she screeched back, "You're the one who went crazy because someone bought me a drink!"
"Well that may be true, but I had good reason. I don't appreciate seeing my girlfriend throwing herself at some sleazy guy."
"I was throwing myself at him was I? And what gave you that impression? The fact that the first thing I said to him was "I'm here watching my BOYFRIEND perform"? Or the fact that he told me he was looking for some company until his FIANCE arrived?" she retorted.
Ok, so perhaps I had overreacted. I guess it looked a bit more suss from where I was standing.
I looked over at her; she had that glint in her eye that sent warning bells to my brain. She looked ready to launch another plate. I needed to do something, and fast, before my Great Aunt Susan's dinnerware became just like my Great Aunt Susan, extinct.
"Okay, Okay, I'm sorry!" I apologized and held my hands up in defeat. "Truce, Truce."
I shot her one of my aware winning smiles. I could see her faltering and I let out a sigh of relief as she put down the plate.
"Fine. I'm sorry too. I suppose it must have looked a bit suspicious from your point of view."
I smiled broadly. God, I loved this girl. She just got me.
I looked over at her.
"You do know what the best part of making up is?" I asked her and wriggled my eyebrows suggestively.
She glanced back at me and sighed.
"And you didn't even buy me a drink."