{Chloe}
I'm trying not to freak. I'm trying not to freak. But? I'm going to freak. I’m going to kick his ugly, white ass is what I’m going to do. "What the hell do you think you're doing?" I ask, my voice as cold as ice.
The stupid bastard. He's just standing there with this ridiculously stupid and guilty look on his face. He's still touching my underwear! Pervert. "Hello! Why the hell are you in my room?" I demand once again.
He has put down my stuff, and he's now holding his hands up in the air innocently. What is that? Some lame attempt of surrender? God, he's an idiot. "I um…Elise left her stuff over, and I thought maybe…"
"Don't even finish that," I immediately interrupt. I’m disgusted. I don't want to know about his sex life. I already know the bottom line: he's a promiscuous slut. And to think—I'm supposed to seduce this man. Or whatever I’m supposed to do to him.
The deal with Elise is still on. And though I'm probably not going to get him to fall for me by being my normally bitchy self, I really don't care much. I've thought long and hard about all of this, and I'm not going to lower my standards by sucking up to him and accepting his disgusting ways as most girls do for him. I just won't.
I mean, all right—maybe I'll try a little bit, but overall, if it doesn't work out—then oh well. Elise and I will just have to end our deal. Most likely, that is what is going to end up happening anyways.
In the midst of all my overanalyzing, I slowly begin to make my way towards my drawer. Once I have thrown down a sufficient amount of my undergarments onto the floor, I look over at him, annoyed because I can feel his stare on me. "Is there any particular reason that you're still in my room?" I snap at him.
Oh hell no. He's doing it…he's licking his dammed lips. I hate when he does this. It's like some sort of god-awful habit of his. I see him doing it at least eighty times a day, and it has always bugged the crap outta me, ever since I first met him. It just goes to show that he's a cocky bastard that thinks women can never bring their attention away from his mouth. Loser.
"What are you doing?" he asks, perplexed. "Why are you throwing all that onto the ground?"
Okay. First of all, I know Justin-the-ass-Timberlake is not trying to have a conversation with me…or is he? And secondly, it's none of his damn business. I answer him anyway. "Who knows where your hands have been."
"What?!" Justin exclaims, insulted.
I've offended him…boo-hoo. "You heard me. I'm washing whatever you may have touched because God only knows where your hands have been."
I'm not looking at him as I speak, but I can hear him mumbling and counting to ten under his breath. He really is a strange human being. I don't know why he's even in here still; it's actually quite weird, I don't think he's ever been in here before, until now.
"You're a neat freak, you know that?" he finally announces.
My gaze turns to him and I look into his blue eyes, annoyed at his proclamation. If he still had his curls and hadn't buzzed his big, fat, inflated head…well, I would have liked to rip them out right about now. (Yeah, it's not exactly the most effective way to get a man to fall in love with you…but oh well).
"As opposed to what exactly? A slob such as yourself?" I ponder. And…wow…he's laughing at me. I just insulted him, and he's laughing? This is new. "Is there something amusing about you being dirty?"
He chuckles for a few more seconds before crossing his arms over his chest and looking at me…weirdly. I mean, he's looking at me, but it's in this different way than he ever has before. I feel my skin start to crawl under his gaze, as chills run up and down my spine. Eww—what is his problem?
"So…is it hot in here, or is it just you?" he suddenly asks, casually.
I swear—I think he's on drugs or something. I cannot believe that Elise may have been right—no way. And no he did not just use that lame ass pick-up line on me. "Justin…get out…now."
"But what if I want to stay?"
Argh. He's licking his lips again. "I don’t care what you want."
"But I need directions," he argues.
I roll my eyes at him and slam my drawer shut with a huff. "I don’t know why the hell you're suddenly so into talking to me, but you've lived here longer than I have, so I'm pretty sure I won't be able to give you any type of directions."
"I bet you can."
I hate him. I know I mention this a lot, but he really, really grates on my nerves. I just can't stand him. And will he leave already? He is not cute. Not cute at all. "Fine! If I try to help you, then will you leave?"
I watch as he scratches his chin and then gives me a little lop-sided grin...another thing that bugs the hell outta me. I don’t know why, but I just can't stand his crooked, smug smile. I hate how his mouth curves up and…
"Maybe."
"Where do you need directions to?" I finally ask, rolling my eyes at him in exasperation. I don't know how many times I roll my eyes at this boy per day, but it's a lot.
If at all possible, his smile grows even bigger, as he points in my general direction and says, "I thought you'd never ask. I need directions…to your heart, baby."
Oh my God. This is sick. He is no Casanova, regardless of what he may think. And not only is he flirting with me, but also he's flirting with me in the most pitiful, lame way ever. He probably hides a book, "The Most Stupid and Pathetic Pick-Up Lines Ever" under his bed or something.
This time I take matters into my own hands as I walk over and grab onto his arm, (ick…normally I don’t like to touch the man), and throw him outside of my door.
He barely begins his protests before I am slamming it shut right in front of his face.
***
{Justin}
Well…that went well.
All right—so I know I just got kicked out of her room and all, but hey—what can a guy expect? I got caught in there, and I came up with a good enough excuse, I guess. Plus, I saw her little smirk when I flirted with her. She liked it; all women like it when you lay on the charm.
And hey. Y'all can't be hating on my lines either. So they're a little overused and cheesy—girls like them anyways. Though, Chloe didn't seem to like them that much. What a frickin' hag…she's so damn uptight.
But oh well. I knew she was gonna be a challenge when I took her on.
And I sort of like that. Really...this is kind of getting fun already. I never much noticed it before, but her feistiness is sort of sexy. It makes me want to grab her and makeout with her, (just so she'll shut up, and I don't have to listen to her yap away in that rude way of hers, of course).
But yeah. Overall, I think my mission went over pretty all right. And damn, I cannot wait to see her in some of those little numbers she had in that drawer.
Hey... don’t make that face. You know you're a pervert, too.
***
{Chloe}
Elise is over and she's raiding through my closet as I sit here painting my fingernails. It's really weird having her over like this. I wonder what Justin would think if he knew she was here right now.
Speaking of the devil, that little stunt that he pulled yesterday was not endearing. I really don’t know what's up with him, but all of a sudden it's like I can sort of see what Elise is talking about when she says that Justin is interested in me.
Now I know that's a ludicrous idea, and I honestly can't believe that whole-heartedly…but it's so bizarre. The way he looks at me all of a sudden—and the way he will smile at me—he never smiled at me before. He never even decently talked to me before. It's freaky. And I know his arrogant ass probably thinks I'm enjoying his lame flirting, but he couldn't be further from the truth if he even tried.
All right. So I know I'm being a bit dramatic here. I mean, Justin is an asshole and he's bigheaded, but I can admit that's he not the…ugliest thing on the planet. And that's a compliment coming from me, because I hate to say anything even remotely proper about the boy. I guess I really need to work on that, though, because I have to at least act like I can stand him if I'm ever gonna get him to like me. You know, I didn't think…
"Okay, girl. We really gotta get rid of all this denim. I mean, yeah, you have some cute pairs of jeans and all…but do you really need so many? And where are the skirts? The small tops?"
I roll my eyes as I screw the cap back onto my clear nail polish, gazing at my interruption. "I like to dress casual."
"I see that," Elise says, rolling her eyes back at me. "But listen. I don't know if you've noticed this or not, but Justin goes for more of the…"
"Slutty type?" I offer, smiling. Oh…oops. I always have been the type of person that blurts something out before thinking…and that probably wasn't the nicest way of wording things, considering she's his ex…
"Exactly!" Elise exclaims, smirking. "I mean…I wouldn't call it slutty…just…more revealing..."
Wow. Just wow.
"Seriously…I don’t have the body for that type of stuff. And besides, I already told you this isn't gonna work out. Justin is never gonna fall for me—little clothing or not," I reason.
"Are you kidding!" she exclaims, again.
No, bitch, I’m not kidding.
"There's nothing wrong with you," she admonishes, flipping her hair back and smacking her gum. She stares at me for a few seconds before smiling widely. "Gosh—this is gonna be so fun! I love make-overs!"
"What?" I ask, standing up carefully. "You are not giving me a make-over, Elise! I don’t know why you're so dead-set on this whole Justin thing…"
"Yes, I am!" she insists, grabbing onto my arm and dragging me towards my bathroom. "It'll be fun. I love this kind of thing, and besides…after you do this for me…well, I just consider you a good friend now."
Oh God. In some sort of sick way, I feel flattered by her. Really, I don't usually hang out with…her type; I've always been the one to get along better with guys than girls. (Ha, and I know what you're thinking, but no, Justin doesn't count in that.) So anyways, it's kind of interesting that she wants to befriend me, you know?
"What do you mean, a 'make-over'? What's wrong with me?" I ask, reluctantly. (I seem to be asking myself this a lot lately.)
"Nothing is wrong with you!" Elise replies, happily. "Just consider it as a step closer to the new and improved you," she adds, positively.
She's so damn bubbly. Such a 'Justin-type' of girl. I'm not a 'Justin-type' of girl. And I don't think a make-over and a whatever else she wants to do is going to change that.
But what the hell?
***
{Justin}
Darnell laughs at Trace as he informs him of 'the bet' and then he shakes his head at me. "You're pretty dumb, man."
"Why?" I ask, indignantly. "I'm gonna get into that girl's pants, no problem."
"Right," Darnell says. "Chloe Marin isn't the type of girl to just go and fuck anyone, bro."
I grin. "I know that…and I don't care. I'm still gonna get her."
"You're not gonna get her," Trace argues. "But let him think what he wants, eh?"
Damn…she's coming. Really, we shouldn't be talkin' about this shit when she lives here. Who knows what she could hear on accident? I'm gonna have to talk to them about that—people can't be starting to find out about this bet. Especially not Chris, he's way too damn protective of her, and he'd probably beat my ass if he knew about it.
"Shut up…" I warn, quietly.
They both close their mouths, and we all innocently watch as she enters the room. She casually passes us by, heading for the kitchen I suppose. The guys both snicker at the way she rolls her eyes at me on her way.
"It's only 'cause she wants me," I say, causing them to snicker more.
About a minute and a half later, Chloe comes strolling out again, her face contorted in anger. Shoot…I'm trying to think of what I did wrong as she calls out my name, "Justin?"
"Yeah, baby?"
"First of all—don’t call me baby," she orders, causing more laughter from Trace and Darnell of course. "And second of all, you know that milk I brought home the other day?"
"Uhh—yeah?" I nod, not really knowing.
"Yeah," she rolls her eyes at me. "Apparently, you do, because you drank it all! And don't even try to say it was Chris—you're the only idiot that puts a drink back in the fridge when it has less than a drop left."
Darnell throws a pillow at me from the couch and chuckles. "Damn, J! How you gonna do your girl like that?"
"Please," Chloe scoffs, obviously disgusted at the insinuation of being labeled 'my girl'.
I roll my eyes. I can't exactly tell her off 'cause of the whole bet thing, but damn. I'm not gonna let her play me in front of my boys like this. Hell no. "Listen, woman—if you need more milk, then use your legs and go get some more."
Oops. That wasn't nice of me, was it?
"Darnell?" Chloe asks, ignoring me, her voice all sweet and shit now. She doesn't talk to me like that. "Do you think you could take me to the store since your friend is such a jerk?"
"Hey...what are you doin'?" I quickly demand, watching as Darnell suddenly begins to get up from his seat. He's not taking 'my girl' anywhere, damn it.
"I'm taking shorty to the store," he explains, smiling at her instead of looking at my pissed off face.
Fuck, and she's smiling back at him, too.
I hate my friends.
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