Page 70 of Clash
“Aren’t you going to eat?” he asked, suddenly looking uneasy.
“Nope, wouldn’t want me to ruin my figure.”
“But that plate is over a hundred dollars.”
I motioned for the waitress to bring me another glass of wine. She poured it without question, as I downed a second glass. “Is the food not good?” she asked.
“Oh no, it’s wonderful. But it seems my date thinks I’m too fat and let myself go, therefore, I won’t be eating the rest. But as you can see, I have taken a few bites of everything, please make sure he gets charged full price.”
The woman laughed.
Walter’s mouth dropped open, as his brow arched and his eyes narrowed into a glare—a menacing one that I wanted to laugh at. “Why you little bit—” he started to swear, but then was suddenly lifted from the chair, pulled up by his shirt until he was looking someone directly in the eyes.
Clash!My heart silently swooned.
“I wouldn’t finish those words if I were you, asshole.”
Walter cringed, his whole body quivering in fright.
“I—I didn’t mean it. She just is costing me a lot of money right now.”
Clash looked down at my plate, smirking when he realized what I was doing. “Good. Serves you right for insulting my woman the way you did.”
His woman?
What?
“I—I didn’t know she was with someone like you. I’m sorry. I would’ve never touched her had I known.”
Clash winked at me before dropping Walter back down in his chair. Everyone was staring at us like open-mouthed trout, but I didn’t care. Walter was getting what was coming to him.
“Come on, Gina. Let’s go.”
He extended his hand, and as much as I hated him, leaving with Clash would be ten times better than staying here with this prick.
“You’re just going to walk out on our date?” Walter questioned, looking mortally wounded.
I shrugged. “Why would I want to stay when you’ve done nothing but insult me since you got here? Besides, he has a bigger dick than you—as I’m sure most of the male population does.”
Walter paled.
Nailed it!
Taking Clash’s hand, I let him escort me out of the restaurant, following him until we reached his bike.
He turned, throwing me that stupid smirk I loved to hate so much. The night was a never-ending fuckfest of problems, and it was starting to give me a headache. “Well, that went well, didn’t it?”
I couldn’t hold it in anymore. I just unleashed all my fucking anger on him. “What the hell was that?” I yelled, shoving him.
He ran a hand over his hair, unfazed, and looking handsome as fuck. Goddamn him for being so good-looking. “What do you mean?”
“That, back there! Your girl? I’m not your fucking girl, Clash.”
“Not yet, but you will be soon.” He smirked wickedly. God, how I wished I could wipe that smirk off his goddamn face and scrape it along the pavement.
This man also had some balls on him. Balls I’d take great pleasure in smashing with a metal mallet until they were flat as pancakes and could feed them to the wild life. “I fucking hate you, remember?”
He shrugged. “I’m sure you do.”
