"So you actually eat food?” Darren asked, peering over my shoulder. "What is that supposed to mean?” I muttered as I sipped champagne from the cocktail glass. "I thought someone with such a curvy figure like you will be on a salad diet.” He mumbled back. I ignored him and tucked into my spaghetti. But I still couldn’t get over how charming Darren was. Why couldn’t he just be old, ugly, boring and married? Then I will have no problems keeping my eyes off him. Tonight he is dressed in a long-sleeved black shirt and skinny black tie over denim. It made him looked like prince charming. Just that I wasn’t any Cinderella or any Snow white rubbish. I huffed in indignation as I stuffed another spoonful of pasta into my mouth. "So we’ll be working on the same holiday assignment,” Darren tried making some small talk again. "Uh-huh. And it’s so unfortunate to have a partner like you.” I hissed. "But you’ll still have to do it. It’s graded.” Darren smiled back angelically. I remained silent, drowning myself with champagne. "When do you want to come over to my house?” Darren asked with anticipating eyes. "Is tomorrow morning ok?” I would rather go to his house than have him meet Cody and Melanie. But maybe it was good. So it would dampen all his plans on me. Or maybe not. Just not this time. "Sure. You want me to pick you up?” "No thanks. I think I’ll make it there on my own.” "You know where it is right?” "2nd avenue.” Now I was getting pissed. "Yeah right.” I sipped my champagne elegantly as I listened to bits and pieces of Emma’s conversation. Darren fidgeted uneasily next to me. Damn. He seemed to be moving closer to me. "Since tomorrow is the start of the holidays, why not go shopping?” Emma claimed my attention. "Cause we have a holiday assignment to do?” "Since when do you bother so much about homework?” "Because I’ve already arranged to go to Mr Tisdale’s house tomorrow morning.” "Oh my God.” I rolled my eyes. "Then all the more you need to shop. You know, like get a few dresses to impress him. Why don’t you postpone the homework thing till the evening, and go shopping with me?” "Why the hell should I do that? Emma, I’ll go shopping with you. Tomorrow afternoon, yeah? Meet you at Pacific Place.” I spoke loud enough for Darren to hear. "Whatever, Claire.” Emma then turned to speak to Stuart. Well, the entire tables of students were talking to one another. Except for me and Darren who were totally glued to our seats, looking straight. Just that a few male students from the end were staring at me. And Karen from the opposite side was smiling at Darren. "So did you fail Mr Mason last assignment?” Darren hissed sarcastically. "You failed right?” I hissed back, oblivious to the close proximity between us. I pulled back immediately. "Not that bad. C grade.” "B plus.” Smash it in his face. "I’m sure you did bribe him right? The assignment was so freaking difficult.” I ignored him, waving a hand at the waiter. "It’s always better to be a female with a male teacher around. You’ll never know what will happen.” Darren hissed. What was that supposed to mean? I had sex with Mr Mason so that I could get a better grade? What nonsense was coming out from him? "Scheisse.” I cussed under my breath. "Menta peperita Biscotti del cioccolato per tre, per favore.” I told the neatly dressed waiter. "Posso rimuovere i vostri piatti” He asked, totally at ease talking to me in Italian. "Grazie.” I muttered back as he started clearing the plates. Darren looked at me, impressed. Hmm… I wondered which foreign language he would understand. Let me try French then. "J'ai d'autres talents aussi bien, indépendamment de avoir le sexe avec les professeurs masculins. Non plus le mauvais vous n'avez pas un ans” I hissed menacingly. Ok, he was officially an idiot. He didn’t even understand French. And I couldn’t be bothered to impress him with my Spanish, Italian or French. Speaking of which, I would love to go to Netherlands to learn Dutch. Just to escape from this Tisdale guy. Dinner ended an hour later, Stuart drove us home and I didn’t even throw a glance towards Darren.
Darren's POV
What was Claire muttering about just now? Was it Italian? French? Ugh. I don’t know. Never mind. I scribbled something I thought what she said onto the restaurant’s serviette. Karen shot a weird glance at me from the opposite side of the table. "Darren,” Karen leaned forward touching my biceps, and giving me an aerial view of her cleavage. Why couldn’t Claire be doing this instead? I would love a view of her impressive cleavage. "Would you mind driving me back home? Stuart drove me here but he took off with Claire and Emma.” Karen continued, inching across the dining table. If she continued moving like that, given the looseness of her dress, I will be able to see her knickers. I tried to control the twitching of my lips. "Where do you stay?” I asked, hoping that she stayed far, far away from me. "26th avenue.” Karen replied, her eyes tingling with excitement. Is that how I looked at Claire? It’d better not. It seemed so flirtatious. "Sorry, I stay at 2nd avenue, so it would be most inconvenient for me. Bye, Karen!” And I took off with a goodbye kiss. Or why in the first would I have been bothered, if it wasn’t Claire. Imagine the softness of her skin brushing against my lips. Men don’t melt from kisses. But I would love to. The drive back home was pretty quiet. I didn’t even bother to turn on the music. I was the engrossed thinking about Claire. Did she even like me? Maybe she did. But after my stupid small talk and snide remarks, I doubt she would. What the hell was I thinking when I said she was having an affair with Mr Mason. I was so ridiculous. Never mind. I needed to find out the meaning of the sentence or sentences she said to me. Probably sis would be able to help. I gleamed at the female passerby as I drove my Mercedes into the garage. I think the passerby nearly fainted. Why couldn’t I just do that to Claire? And she would be mine. "Denise, do you know any Italian or French crap?” I asked my sis as I sat down next to her. She was watching some dumb supermodel show. None of these girls were as pretty as Claire Edwards. "I know French,” She admitted, eye glued onto the screen. "Mom,” I greeted as she walked out of the kitchen. "Help me translate this. I don’t know what freaking language is this.” I handed her the serviette. "Hmm… Your languages suck. I should know.” Denise peeled her eyes off the flat screen as the advertisements on the TV began pouring out. Denise examined my illegible handwriting and chuckled. "Does this girl hate you? Or what offensive thing did you say to her?” Denise giggled as she handed the serviette back to me. I narrowed my eyes at her. "Just tell me what’s going on.” I urged her. "She says she has other talents apart from having sex with some guy, the name’s too blurred, it’s too bad you’re not one of them.” Denise laughed again. “What exactly did you do to her?” "I accused her of having sex with our lecturer? Because she always gets good grades in Mr Mason’s class?” "What the hell? You’re insulting her! She must be fuming mad now.” Denise turned her eyes back to the flat screen as the roaring audience announced the starting of the show. "Ok, I’m dead.” "I knew that long ago.” Denise stifled a giggle. "Claire’s coming over to our house tomorrow.” I notified her. "Who’s Claire? The person who said this? Or wrote this?” "Claire told me this gibberish rubbish.” "It’s not rubbish. It’s just that you don’t understand French. By the way, her French is good.” "Not only French. She could speak a native Italian waiter too. And I bet she knows much more than that.” "Please don’t tell me you like this girl, Darren.” Denise laughed again. I wondered was it me or the television. "Nope. I’m just interested. Claire doesn’t date, doesn’t wear revealing clothes, is gorgeous and smart.” "Wow. What a hell of a woman.” What an understatement, I thought. "I’ll love to see her tomorrow.” Denise smiled, pleased. "Like you’ll wake up that early, you sleepyhead.” "Of course I will. To meet my brother’s future wife.” She teased. I rolled my eyes at my seventeen year-old sister, kissed my mom goodnight, took a good shower and retreated for the night. Tomorrow, I will see Claire again. Smiling, I went to sleep. And that wasn’t the first time she appeared in my dreams.
ok. the response isn't very good. nvm. i'll do more advertisment. haha.
"So you actually eat food?” Darren asked, peering over my shoulder. "What is that supposed to mean?” I muttered as I sipped champagne from the cocktail glass. "I thought someone with such a curvy figure like you will be on a salad diet.” He mumbled back. I ignored him and tucked into my spaghetti. But I still couldn’t get over how charming Darren was. Why couldn’t he just be old, ugly, boring and married? Then I will have no problems keeping my eyes off him. Tonight he is dressed in a long-sleeved black shirt and skinny black tie over denim. It made him looked like prince charming. Just that I wasn’t any Cinderella or any Snow white rubbish. I huffed in indignation as I stuffed another spoonful of pasta into my mouth. "So we’ll be working on the same holiday assignment,” Darren tried making some small talk again. "Uh-huh. And it’s so unfortunate to have a partner like you.” I hissed. "But you’ll still have to do it. It’s graded.” Darren smiled back angelically. I remained silent, drowning myself with champagne. "When do you want to come over to my house?” Darren asked with anticipating eyes. "Is tomorrow morning ok?” I would rather go to his house than have him meet Cody and Melanie. But maybe it was good. So it would dampen all his plans on me. Or maybe not. Just not this time. "Sure. You want me to pick you up?” "No thanks. I think I’ll make it there on my own.” "You know where it is right?” "2nd avenue.” Now I was getting pissed. "Yeah right.” I sipped my champagne elegantly as I listened to bits and pieces of Emma’s conversation. Darren fidgeted uneasily next to me. Damn. He seemed to be moving closer to me. "Since tomorrow is the start of the holidays, why not go shopping?” Emma claimed my attention. "Cause we have a holiday assignment to do?” "Since when do you bother so much about homework?” "Because I’ve already arranged to go to Mr Tisdale’s house tomorrow morning.” "Oh my God.” I rolled my eyes. "Then all the more you need to shop. You know, like get a few dresses to impress him. Why don’t you postpone the homework thing till the evening, and go shopping with me?” "Why the hell should I do that? Emma, I’ll go shopping with you. Tomorrow afternoon, yeah? Meet you at Pacific Place.” I spoke loud enough for Darren to hear. "Whatever, Claire.” Emma then turned to speak to Stuart. Well, the entire tables of students were talking to one another. Except for me and Darren who were totally glued to our seats, looking straight. Just that a few male students from the end were staring at me. And Karen from the opposite side was smiling at Darren. "So did you fail Mr Mason last assignment?” Darren hissed sarcastically. "You failed right?” I hissed back, oblivious to the close proximity between us. I pulled back immediately. "Not that bad. C grade.” "B plus.” Smash it in his face. "I’m sure you did bribe him right? The assignment was so freaking difficult.” I ignored him, waving a hand at the waiter. "It’s always better to be a female with a male teacher around. You’ll never know what will happen.” Darren hissed. What was that supposed to mean? I had sex with Mr Mason so that I could get a better grade? What nonsense was coming out from him? "Scheisse.” I cussed under my breath. "Menta peperita Biscotti del cioccolato per tre, per favore.” I told the neatly dressed waiter. "Posso rimuovere i vostri piatti” He asked, totally at ease talking to me in Italian. "Grazie.” I muttered back as he started clearing the plates. Darren looked at me, impressed. Hmm… I wondered which foreign language he would understand. Let me try French then. "J'ai d'autres talents aussi bien, indépendamment de avoir le sexe avec les professeurs masculins. Non plus le mauvais vous n'avez pas un ans” I hissed menacingly. Ok, he was officially an idiot. He didn’t even understand French. And I couldn’t be bothered to impress him with my Spanish, Italian or French. Speaking of which, I would love to go to Netherlands to learn Dutch. Just to escape from this Tisdale guy. Dinner ended an hour later, Stuart drove us home and I didn’t even throw a glance towards Darren.
Darren's POV
What was Claire muttering about just now? Was it Italian? French? Ugh. I don’t know. Never mind. I scribbled something I thought what she said onto the restaurant’s serviette. Karen shot a weird glance at me from the opposite side of the table. "Darren,” Karen leaned forward touching my biceps, and giving me an aerial view of her cleavage. Why couldn’t Claire be doing this instead? I would love a view of her impressive cleavage. "Would you mind driving me back home? Stuart drove me here but he took off with Claire and Emma.” Karen continued, inching across the dining table. If she continued moving like that, given the looseness of her dress, I will be able to see her knickers. I tried to control the twitching of my lips. "Where do you stay?” I asked, hoping that she stayed far, far away from me. "26th avenue.” Karen replied, her eyes tingling with excitement. Is that how I looked at Claire? It’d better not. It seemed so flirtatious. "Sorry, I stay at 2nd avenue, so it would be most inconvenient for me. Bye, Karen!” And I took off with a goodbye kiss. Or why in the first would I have been bothered, if it wasn’t Claire. Imagine the softness of her skin brushing against my lips. Men don’t melt from kisses. But I would love to. The drive back home was pretty quiet. I didn’t even bother to turn on the music. I was the engrossed thinking about Claire. Did she even like me? Maybe she did. But after my stupid small talk and snide remarks, I doubt she would. What the hell was I thinking when I said she was having an affair with Mr Mason. I was so ridiculous. Never mind. I needed to find out the meaning of the sentence or sentences she said to me. Probably sis would be able to help. I gleamed at the female passerby as I drove my Mercedes into the garage. I think the passerby nearly fainted. Why couldn’t I just do that to Claire? And she would be mine. "Denise, do you know any Italian or French crap?” I asked my sis as I sat down next to her. She was watching some dumb supermodel show. None of these girls were as pretty as Claire Edwards. "I know French,” She admitted, eye glued onto the screen. "Mom,” I greeted as she walked out of the kitchen. "Help me translate this. I don’t know what freaking language is this.” I handed her the serviette. "Hmm… Your languages suck. I should know.” Denise peeled her eyes off the flat screen as the advertisements on the TV began pouring out. Denise examined my illegible handwriting and chuckled. "Does this girl hate you? Or what offensive thing did you say to her?” Denise giggled as she handed the serviette back to me. I narrowed my eyes at her. "Just tell me what’s going on.” I urged her. "She says she has other talents apart from having sex with some guy, the name’s too blurred, it’s too bad you’re not one of them.” Denise laughed again. “What exactly did you do to her?” "I accused her of having sex with our lecturer? Because she always gets good grades in Mr Mason’s class?” "What the hell? You’re insulting her! She must be fuming mad now.” Denise turned her eyes back to the flat screen as the roaring audience announced the starting of the show. "Ok, I’m dead.” "I knew that long ago.” Denise stifled a giggle. "Claire’s coming over to our house tomorrow.” I notified her. "Who’s Claire? The person who said this? Or wrote this?” "Claire told me this gibberish rubbish.” "It’s not rubbish. It’s just that you don’t understand French. By the way, her French is good.” "Not only French. She could speak a native Italian waiter too. And I bet she knows much more than that.” "Please don’t tell me you like this girl, Darren.” Denise laughed again. I wondered was it me or the television. "Nope. I’m just interested. Claire doesn’t date, doesn’t wear revealing clothes, is gorgeous and smart.” "Wow. What a hell of a woman.” What an understatement, I thought. "I’ll love to see her tomorrow.” Denise smiled, pleased. "Like you’ll wake up that early, you sleepyhead.” "Of course I will. To meet my brother’s future wife.” She teased. I rolled my eyes at my seventeen year-old sister, kissed my mom goodnight, took a good shower and retreated for the night. Tomorrow, I will see Claire again. Smiling, I went to sleep. And that wasn’t the first time she appeared in my dreams.
ok. the response isn't very good. nvm. i'll do more advertisment. haha.
chapter 1 (part2)
