fixeswatches | (no subject)

She burned red in the face, and this time she pushed against him instead of trying to lurch away. "I don't throw it in your face!" Although she did call him a prude sometimes. And maybe she threw it in his face last night. "Why does it matter how many and how much to you?" Because she didn't care. As long as he didn't love them, she couldn't care about it like he did.

"It doesn't," He hissed. and it's almost the truth. In reality, even just one man before him would be too many for him, really. It was irrational, but he never claimed to be rational.

"Let go of me," she growled, and finally zapped his hand really hard, stumbling back with the momentum of her pull. She glared up at him, her fury building, and spat, "Could have fooled me."

He grimaced in pain, letting out a snarl as he snatched his hand away from her now. It was probably not a good thing how quickly they could go from getting along to fighting like cats and dogs.

"I hope it hurts!" she shouted vindictively, and then spun on her heel into the bedroom. "So does being called a whore by your stupid jealous boyfriend, just so you know!"

"Well maybe you shouldn't begin so many stories with, 'The guy working was flirting with me and asked for my number,'" He snarled, following her into the bedroom.

She spun back around, so angry now she could hardly see straight. "That doesn't make me a slut, you dumb idiot! I don't ask to be hit on!"

"You don't discourage it either," He snapped. "How would you like it if I flirted back with other women?"

"Flirting doesn't make anyone a slut, Gabriel, it makes them a tease. At least get it right." She let out a cruel laugh. "And as if any do."

"I'm sure if I put as much effort into my looks as you do in yours, just as many women would hit on me," He replied with a cocky smirk.

She laughed again, heartily this time. "That's rich," she said snidely.

"What, you don't think that's possibly?" He asked in an indignant tone, more than just a little insulted.

"You would think that, wouldn't you?" she asked rhetorically, placing her hands on her hips with a mean smile. "You just think your god's gift to the world."

Even though if she were honest, his new haircut, however messy it was at the moment, looked kind of hot.

"You certainly like me well enough, don't you?" His smirk grew a little wider now. "After all, I'm lucky if you can keep your hands off of me for ten minutes."

Her angry flush deepened. "I'm a sex addict," she said snappishly, "I can't help myself." A poor comeback, to be sure, but she didn't have anything else. Well, besides... "And I'm certainly not having any trouble right now!"

"Yeah, but by the end of the fight, we'll probably be screwing," He pointed out in a knowing voice. "It's how all of our arguments seem to end."

She huffed and growled, glowering at him, because he was right. And she snapped. She was certainly liable to it at the moment, and she was too angry to even think of the consequences. She just wanted to prove him wrong if it was the last thing she did, and wipe that cocky smirk off of his stupid face.

She stalked over to their bag and started stripped, shedding all of her layers furiously, pulling out a barely worn electric blue mini-dress. "We'll see who I'll be fucking by the end of the night," she bit at him, pulling it over her head.

Even though she knew it would be him, if anyone.

"You're not going out like that," He shouted in annoyance, infuriated by even the thought that she might fuck someone else. He knew she wouldn't (she wouldn't dare), but the idea still pissed him off.

"You're right, I'm not," she replied glibly, anger laced into her tone. She straightened out the dress; it hardly covered half of her thighs. "I'm going down to the bar," she said, grabbing her strappy pumps and pulling them on. "I bet there's plenty of men there willing to fuck me, don't you think?" she spat, and headed for the door.

He stalked after her, taking large strides to catch up with her. He reached out, grabbing her wrist roughly. "They might be willing, but they sure as hell aren't fucking you."

She turned on him, holding her wrist up after he grabbed it so violently. "Well according to you, all I need to do is not discourage it," she hissed pointedly. "So I'll let you know how it goes." She shocked his hand off and reached for the doorknob.

He cried out in pain at the size of the shock, leaving him immobilized as he fell to the floor. His body was slowly healing,giving her the chance to leave before he could interfere again.

She slammed the door shut and rushed down the hall, slipping into the elevator just when someone was getting out, shooting them a fake, rushed smile and pressing the lobby floor button frantically, only sighing victoriously when the doors closed the the left started to drop.

She instantly felt free and invigorated on top of her fueling anger. She fluffed her hair in the mirror, adjusted her dress, and stepped off when the elevator ding at her floor.

Her heels clicked confidently against the marble tiles, and she entered the dimly lit bar, choosing a stool and jumping up on it. She ordered a martini and waited.

It was only a matter of time before some poor, horny man on a business trip approached her.

As he healed, Gabriel pushed himself up with a grunt. His body ached, but suddenly, he knew what he needed to do. If she thought she could get away with this, she'd see that two could play at this game. He grabbed his wallet along, and headed down to where the cloth shops inside the hotel were located.

It only took a few minutes of quietly sipping her drink before one jackass approached her. To be completely honest, she'd be secretly glancing at the entrance the whole time, waiting for Gabriel to come drag her back. Not that she cared or anything, but she would have sworn on her life he would have been there to stop her by now. What the hell was taking him so long?

The man, who looked like a Grade A douche, leaned against the bar next to her with a sleazy smile. He had brown, floppy hair, and lo and behold, a fancy suit and a big commercial smile.

Gorgeous, but also clearly a douche.

Perfect, in other words.

"I'm Max, and you are just... stunning," he said, delivering the line as if he'd practiced it on countless others before. Obediently, Elle smiled. "What's your name? Can I buy you a drink?"

She glanced impatiently at the doorway--still no one. She was almost beginning to feel put out. Almost. She turned her grin back to Max. "Elle," she said with a giggle. "I'd love another drink."