Page 81 of Flipping His Script
Still, she lifted her fork and stabbed another piece – a center one, too. I watched with grudging admiration as she choked it down, just like I'd choked down God-knows-what as a kid.
I gave the remaining waffle a quick look. There had to be a dozen pieces left.Six each.In front of me, Anna's flush was a distant memory.
I felt my eyebrows furrow as her skin rotated from white to green and back again. In the high-backed chair, she looked very small and way too determined.
With a frown, I considered how much she'd eaten compared to me. It was the same amount, but I was twice her size and had a stomach of iron.
I gave her a look. "You done?"
She swallowed several times before replying, "Nope."
"If you get sick," I said, "don't look for me to hold your hair."
She swallowed again. "Well, ifyouget sick, don't look formeto clean it up."
"I don't get sick," I told her.
"Only if you're not human."
Now, she was pissing me off.What the hell was she thinking?By now, I was more angry at myself than at her – not for challenging her in the first place, but for caring that she looked ready to lose it.
Still, I stabbed another piece and swallowed it whole.
When I finished, she looked to the waffle and gave yet another hard swallow. From the look on her face, she was ready to call it quits.
But she didn't. Instead, with a trembling hand, she lifted her fork and went in for another piece. The fork never reached it.
And why?It was because I shoved aside the plate, sending it crashing onto the floor, along with the remaining waffle pieces. By some miracle, the serving dish didn't break.
I stood. "Game over."
Slowly, she turned her head and stared down at the mess. She was still staring when I strode out of the kitchen, leaving the whole twisted scene behind.
Shit.
I grabbed my car keys and stalked out the front door, even as I asked myself,"Why the hell had I done that?"
The truth was, I didn't know.
I mean, was it just another dick move? Or did I really care that she wasn't looking so great?
If someone had asked me a month ago whether I'd like to see Anna lose her shit, the answer would've come fast and easy.Sure, why not?
Anything for a laugh.
Or revenge.
But it's not like I wanted to see her dead or hurt. I wanted her to suffer in other ways.
But did I really?
It would've been a shit-ton easier if she were the person I'd been expecting – spoiled, entitled, and a sorry-ass sport.
But the truth was, she wasn't any of those things. She was funny as hell – and a lot tougher than I'd expected.
As I strode toward the car that I'd left parked in the turnaround, I glanced over my shoulder toward the house.Yeah, she was tough, but not as tough as she pretended to be.
Now, I was doubly pissed – not at Anna, but at myself.Why hadn't I just stopped?I could've let her win – or hell, even called a draw.
