Kutipan
“I’m Craig. You’re…” He lets his words trail off as he rakes his eyes over me, but I say nothing before sipping my coffee. “If you don’t give me your name, I’ll just call you Beauty.”
How original.
How original.
Plenty of women will overlook his arrogance, confusing it for cockiness, possibly even find it charming
But I’m the wrong girl.
“How about calling me Not Interested? Because that’s the most apt depiction of me at the moment,” I tell him, leaning back in my chair, relaxed and fully in control.
“Apparently you haven’t gotten a good look,” he proceeds, leaning back and pretty much posing in a stance that gives me nothing more to look at than an arrogant ass.
“I’ve seen more than enough. Still not interested.”
His look darkens as he takes a step back.
“Fine. Fuck it. I don’t need frostbite on my dick anyway,” he says before turning and walking toward a table where another guy is sitting.
“How about calling me Not Interested? Because that’s the most apt depiction of me at the moment,” I tell him, leaning back in my chair, relaxed and fully in control.
“Apparently you haven’t gotten a good look,” he proceeds, leaning back and pretty much posing in a stance that gives me nothing more to look at than an arrogant ass.
“I’ve seen more than enough. Still not interested.”
His look darkens as he takes a step back.
“Fine. Fuck it. I don’t need frostbite on my dick anyway,” he says before turning and walking toward a table where another guy is sitting.
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