Chapter 5: We Won't Get Along

< Shirley > "Um, I, uh..." I went blank. "I, um, I am Shirley Hamilton, and I would—" I had gone blank, not knowing what to speak within two minutes, jumbling up all my words. "You're not here for your interview," he cut in. "Come to the point." I scowled at him. I took a sharp intake of air and said, "Can you please look at me while I'm talking to you?" It felt like I was talking to air this whole time. I noticed him wriggling his brows before he let out, "Excuse me?" "You're excused." "Haha. Very funny." He faked a laugh and looked up to glare at me. I smiled in satisfaction. "Now that's more like it." He leaned his back against the chair and said, "Would you stop beating around the bush?" "Oh, right. Sorry." I straightened up and thought of a way, to sum up, my needs in one sentence. "I want your time." "Well, great. You can leave now. Because I don't sell time." Dylan rolled his eyes. I slapped my forehead. "Sorry, that came out wrong. Let me make it clear." "Never mind. Shut up." "How can I shut up? I'm not a window." "Then keep quiet." "How can I keep quiet? Is it a person or a thing that I can keep, huh?" "Ugh, you're annoying." He huffed, and I giggled. "If you're not going to say what exactly you want from me, then leave." "But you need to patiently listen to me," I whined like a baby. "What if I don't?" "I'm going to tell everyone who you are," I tried to threaten. "I'm Dylan Lewiston. Thank you very much." Grrr. Why is he so sarcastic?! "Not that. I mean, what you do, ugh. Whatever. You understand, don't you?" I groaned. "No, I don't. Please enlighten me who I am." He rested his elbows on the desk, looking at me with an intrigued look. "Mafia," I replied, unnecessarily dragging the word dramatically. "What a surprise. I thought I was a vampire." Did he have to have so much sarcasm stored with him? "Would you please listen to what I actually have to say?" I practically begged. "I'm not deaf like you, so go ahead." Finally, he was going to pay attention to me. I released a sigh and started, "So I'm twenty-three years old, and-" "What am I supposed to do with that information?" he cut in once again, running a hand through his black hair, impatiently. Rolling my eyes, I continued with a tight-lipped smile, "And I want to be a professional car racer. That's why I want you to train me for that. As you are the best car racer in the USA, though you have a rotten attitude and grumpy tone which I don't like at all. But that's not important." "You talk too much," Dylan muttered under his breath, and I just shot him a flat look. "Anyways, does it look like I have opened a training center? And why me out of all the fucking people?" "Because I want to participate in the International racing tournament and earn a victory like you," I stated. "What makes you think I'll train you after what you did to me?" "What did I do to you? If you forgot, you were the one who did everything. You threatened me and-" What's with him and cutting me off? Maybe he doesn't like to listen to useless shits, replied my subconscious. "Oh, yeah, I was the one who hit my own forehead with your phone, wasn't I?" Dylan removed his bangs from his forehead, showing off his wound. I let out a nervous chuckle. "Oh, my apologies. It's actually my spirit from the alternate world, right? It also stalked me for a month. Not to forget how much chaos it creates every time it pays a visit to the reception..." His list of my crimes went on and on, but my focus was on his forehead-to be precise, on his bandage. Seeing me stifle my laughter, he asked, annoyed, "What's so funny?" "That bandage." I gestured at his forehead before bursting into fits of laughter. "Yeah, what about it?" He furrowed his brows, confused. I took out my pocket mirror and held it out in front of Dylan. As soon as he noticed the bandage, his eyes widened slightly. The emotionless face he was trying to keep all this while was replaced by a disgusted one which made me laugh even more. "Fucking hell," he cursed under his breath, ripped off the cute panda bandage with one pull, and glared at me. Only if looks could kill, my body would be burning in the temperature of the sun. Sizzling under his glaring gaze, I tried to explain myself, "Look, it wasn't intentional. I didn't mean to hit you." I couldn't piss him off more than I already had, otherwise he would never agree to be my trainer. "Of course, it wasn't your fault. I'm a magnet, and I attract cell phones." He arched an eyebrow sarcastically. I sighed. "I'm sorry about that. I really am. You yelled at me, and I got angry. It wasn't on purpose, nor am I a violent person." The last part was a lie. I tend to get pretty violent when my rage was off the charts-which was basically breaking stuff. Dylan started massaging his forehead with his fingers and said, "By the way, are you done talking? Because you see, my time is precious unlike yours. But of course, a jobless person won't understand the value of time." Ouch. Did he always have to be that rude? Sucking up the insults, I forced a cheeky smile on my face and started pleading, "Please it won't take much time. Only three to four hours a day." "Three to four hours, you say? I can massacre a whole city within that amount of time, lady," he reasoned out. Exhausted, I leaned back on my chair, trying to think of a plan. Suddenly an idea popped into my evil brain, and I straightened up enthusiastically. "I'll reveal your Mafia secrets," I smirked. He was silent for a few moments, just staring at me with a void expression, before saying, "Go ahead." I expected him to be a little scared but nothing changed. "I'll seriously reveal it," I tried to threaten. Why wasn't he taking me seriously? Dylan rested his cheek on his knuckles and declared, "You will find yourself dead before you can do that." Threatening Dylan was of no use-lesson learned. I stood up and went around his desk, stopping right beside his leather chair. I spun him around and propped my arms on either side of him, on the armrests. "Please. To be a car racer is my dream, and I need your help for that," I told him in a very serious voice. For half a minute, Dylan only stared into my blue eyes with his grey ones. As if attempting to understand me. "What do I get out of it?" he asked. That was all it took for my face to light up like a high-voltage bulb. "Thank you so much for agreeing. May God bless you!" I squealed, backing away from him for a victory dance. "Hold your horses right there. First of all, tell me about my share of profit," he asserted. I put my index finger on my cheek thoughtfully. I couldn't offer him money because he was already affluent. But trying couldn't hurt. After all, people did wonders for the sake of more money. "I'll pay you as much as you want," I offered. "I'm pretty sure you're aware of my social status, aren't you, my stalker?" He raised an eyebrow. "Yeah, I know. I was just testing." Did I just agree I'm his stalker? I racked my brains, finally coming with a solution. It was not super effective, but it ought to get on his nerves enough to accept my wish. "If you help me win the upcoming tournament, which is in three months, you'll enjoy five benefits." "And what might those be?" I could tell that he was bemused, although his face was void of any emotions. "First of all, I won't reveal your secret. Secondly, your secret won't be revealed by me. Thirdly, no one will get to know it due to me. Number four, no one would get to know 'cause I won't tell them. Finally, your secret will be safe with me," I stated proudly. Dylan gaped at me, his jaw slightly slacked, disbelief written all over his face. "Care to tell me the difference between all of them?" "Of course, they are different. Let me repeat-" "Please don't. If you say a word more, I would need holy water to cleanse my ears." But I didn't say anything dirty. I pouted. "But-" "We're done for the day. You can leave." He spun around his chair to face his laptop again. Before he could get back to work again, I twirled around his chair again and brought my face close to his, almost too close. "Is it yes or no?" I questioned. Dylan sighed and nodded. "Thank you so much. You have no idea how much this means to me." I was about to start dancing, overwhelmed by hope. My heart was beaming with joy. "Before you start dancing like a chimpanzee, you should know that I have something that I want from you." Going back to my seat, I inquired, "What is that?" I wondered what Dylan could want from someone like me. I had nothing to offer him. "The tournament you were talking about, I'll make you win it." My heart fluttered at that thought. "On the day of your victory, you'll have to do a task for me. I'll tell you about it that day." His voice was drop-dead serious. "What task?" Even though he was super serious, there was a looming dirty thought in my mind. What if he wants me for a night? "Nothing perverted like you think." He rolled his eyes, and I looked away being embarrassed. "Oh, and I do have a few conditions as well." I motioned him to continue. "You'll never tell anyone you're in contact with me. Not even your family or your best friends." I pouted sadly. The first thing I was planning to do when I got home was to yell my lungs out that Dylan Lewiston was willing to help me fulfill my dreams. But I guess that would have to wait. "You have to be present whenever and wherever I ask you to be. Any delay will cost you dearly, so never be late." I gulped. "Training with me is going to be harsh, so don't expect me to go easy on you just because you're some okay-looking girl." I'm an okay-looking girl? Are his eyes okay? "That's all for now, I guess. I'll let you know if I remember something else." "What if I breach any of the conditions?" I asked. He tilted his head slightly, a sinister smirk displaying on his face, and uttered slowly, "I will kill your family." I stood up from my chair and slammed my palm on his desk angrily. "Don't involve my family in this." Dylan shrugged and said, "If you don't want them involved, then obey whatever I say from now on." I sneered and walked out of his cabin without another word. I couldn't stand him anymore. I wanted to screw up that guy so bad. All of my research about Dylan was in vain since I didn't know a single thing about his rotten, sarcastic personality. He was so peculiar and out of my comprehension. But one thing I knew for sure-we won't get along. °°°°°