Impromptu Creative Writing # 1
(80) Take two people who dislike each other and stick them in the backseat of a cab. What happens?
I Just Hate You
I never understood how the hell I ended up in this situation of all locations, where I just had to be here stuck with the most annoying person in the whole wide world: Blake Savage.
He's a complete absurd imbecile who has no meaning in his life. That bastard can go die if he thinks that I care about his little ass one bit. I can't believe that I grew up with him in the first place. Since when did I ever believe that childhood friends could become lovers when they grew up? Never; It all sounded bullshit to me in the first place.
"Hey," Blake poked me lightly on the cheek, "if you're done talking to yourself," here it comes, I thought. "Make me a sandwich on the way home, baby."
I knew it. This selfish narcissist doesn't care one bit of anyone but his own needs.
"How about you shut the fuck up?" I turned my head towards the window, watching city lights woosh past me and buildings disappear far behind the cab, while pretending everything was just one horrid dream.
"Woah, feisty there," Blake's hands were above his head as if the police had told him to keep his hands above his head, "Veggie gots ta chill, yo."
Veggie, I thought. I hadn't heard that in so long since the time in high school, my friends had suddenly paired me up with Reggie, the guy who tried to get close to me. Eventually, it'd gone around the whole school, and before I knew it, my name, Vanessa, had become Veggie.
My face turned hot when a sudden rush of blood had reached my head. The frustration I had that sat with me throughout this ten minutes of riding with a lunatic was about to burst my head wide open. I hated the nickname 'Veggie', and I hated him.
"Don't call me that," the back of my hand had slapped his chest. Blake didn't flinch at my swift movement, so I assumed it hadn't put any damage on his torso than it did to my hand. "Shit," I mumbled to myself while he chuckled at my abrupt doings.
I smelt the strong tobacco smoke sticking to his careless brown hair, trimmed short at the back, and semi-long at the front, pushing his bangs to the slight right of his eye. If I wasn't paying attention, I could've sworn his hair was coal black.
"You've changed," I leered at him putting his icy blue eyes to rest.
"Yeah?" He responded after a few seconds had passed. I knew it wasn't exactly a question, but more like a query of my answer. Maybe he was processing things slowly, even though I knew his breath reeked with strong alcohol and binge drinking. But at the same time, a woody, ozonic and aquatic scent roamed against his black shirt, tightened at his top.
This familiar fragrance..I know it from somewhere.
"Yeah, you have," I admitted a murmur to myself. "You never were like this, so why did you have to so different?" I wasn't prepared for the answer, but I was curious since he was calming down.
Except, he didn't answer at all.
"Blake, you asshole," I muttered as he soundlessly drove himself to dreamworld.
"You know, it isn't polite to swear at your future husband," the taxi driver spoke, taking a quick glance at the mirror to catch my attention.
I choke back a laughter that ended up sounding like a snort. "Are you kidding? This savage beast has no genuine feelings at all but to play with every girl's heart," I retorted back a fiery hiss. "Besides, his last name suits him well."
"Savage? That's nice to know," the driver's voice was slightly high. He was lying, knowing he couldn't really give a shit about what I said. He continued talking anyway. "He called you out here for a reason," the taxi hauled to a stop at a red light, "so I suggest you should listen to his ramble from here on out."
"Ramble? Are you serious?" My eyes rolled away, ceasing a stop to look at Blake's sleeping face. But instead of a peaceful 'sleeping face', I found Blake pushing on a button that rolled down the window, and out came an orange murky colour.
"Oi, shitface," the taxi driver shouted while cars horned wildly at the yellow cab. "Good job for not throwing up all over my vehicle, but next time, could you at least warn me so I can pull over?" He swore underneath.
Laughter escaped from my mouth. It's been awhile since I've laughed genuinely at someone's comment. Actually, this probably was the highlight of my night, at least.
"Ah," Blake recovered, rotating his head towards my direction. "Got a tissue, babe?"
This side of him, I hate the most. Calling me 'babe' gets on my nerve to the point where I wanted to kick him out of the cab and onto the open road. Instead, I improvised as if this was some kind of role play. "Here," I handed him the tissue originally used for my makeup. "All yours."
Narrowing my eyes to the front mirror, I noticed how the driver's brow lifted up as if wondering what kind of change made me turn this way. I shrugged anyway, watching people drink carelessly at pubs, building by building.
"Thanks," he responded, "for the tissue, I mean."
Silence softly stumbled in, anticipating the strange aura inside the driven vehicle.
"Vanessa," Blake asserted first, "You're so ugly, Hello Kitty said goodbye to you."
Wow, Blake. You're really asking for a war, aren't you? Well, fine; I'll bring it.
"One day, when you pass away and people ask me what was the cause of your death, I'll bluntly answer your stupidity." I countered back.
His eyes furrowed, and with that, he shot another insult. "Don't you realize there are enough people to hate in the world already without you having to work so hard to give me another?"
I snorted. "If you were that smart, you'd still be stupid."
"Well, your birth certificate is an apology from the condom factory."
I'll be honest that deep down, I was discouraged at his last sentence. Sure, he disses me all the time, but to fire back an insult regarding my birth, my heart felt heavy, like every problematic issues were weighing me down. "I'd admire you because you have the courage of being a liar, thief and a cheat, but to me, you're nothing but a fake."
That was it. Nothing else happened. Neither of us would talk or even make the slightest movement to show that our existence was still bare.
"No, you aren't sorry," I bluntly pointed out. "Why the hell do you have to be such a conceited bastard?"
"Maybe it's because you're easily amused when someone teases you," Blake argued, knowing that I needed a direct answer. "Or the fact that you've always had a cold-heart towards me since high school."
Cold-heart? That was merely because you weren't there for me when I needed you in high school. Your mates had always had different opinions of me, and yet, you slipped me aside and continued to live as a conceited bastard from then on out.
"You neglected me in high school," I remembered. "At first, I thought we'd at least get somewhere, that maybe we'd have a chance to change things," I muttered, "but you didn't seem interested at all."
"And that's why you hated me this whole time?" Genuinely, he was actually listening.
"You went for it, didn't you?" I exclaimed, ignoring his question.
"What are you on about?"
"The kiss," I revealed, "with..." I know I should've shut up when I had the chance, but I didn't.
"Nope. Never have."
"Well, I still hate you." That was the last resort I'd come up with. Merely, I was embarrassed at this talk, but it shouldn't change anything. The only thing running through my mind was the hope he'd forget by morning.
"That still won't change anything though." Blake grinned widely.
That, I could only hope.