My Ex Waited In Line For My Autograph

CHAPTER 3 - SURVIVE II.

CLEO CLEMENTINE.

I am about to snap in half when my stomach joins the argument with a super loud growl, and I feel my anger double.

“I’m really in a hurry...” he tries to explain.

“I don’t give a flying f**k,” I cut him off, looking him dead in the eyes. "Provide me my dinner asap."

“Okay,” he nods. “I will get you another hamburger.”

“I don’t want it anymore,” I retort coldly.

He tilts his head to the left in confusion. “Sorry?”

“I’m no longer in the mood to eat a hamburger,” I press into his ear. “I'm so pissed right now that I'm no longer satisfied with eating a hamburger.”

“It was what you got a few seconds ago. I just have to get that back for you, and we are good.”

“A few seconds ago I was happy and in the mood to manage eating a hamburger until you came over and pooped on my party.”

He takes a step back, and I take two forward.

Gosh, men are my biggest enemy at the moment, always doing something wrong.

“Woman, I know you’re trying to exploit me, but I’m in a hurry right now…”

Hearing that, my eyes immediately bug out like a cartoon frog. “Exploit you? Man! Get me my darn dinner while I’m asking nicely!”

“Are you kidding me?”

“Do I look like I’m kidding you?” I shout at the top of my lungs, so loud that passersby turn around to watch.

I exhale sharply, trying to remain in control as I reduce my voice a little, “Look, men have been nothing but d***s to me. I get more pissed when it gets to men, so you better get me my dinner before I recycle you into a bright orange traffic cone.”

He removes his hands, which were resting on his hips and buries them in his pockets nonchalantly. “Your reaction is making me think you might have fallen those things on purpose.”

“What?” I roar, losing every bit of control I recently tried to gather. I take a step closer and angrily slap him in the chest. “It was you who charged into me like a headless chicken and catapulted my hamburger into the abyss. Get me my dinner right now!”

“Fine! I will,” he says in surrender, taking another step back so I don’t hit him in the chest again.

Brilliant idea, because I’m about to shoot lasers from my eyes.

Gosh, I'm so hungry. And angry.

This annoying stranger sighs before he continues, “I just need to pick something up, then I can go with you.”

“No!” I wheeze out a war cry that sounds half like a yell and half like a cough. “I want it now… I’m hungry!”

He tries to argue, but before he can say another word, I gecko-grab his collar and yank it straight up until he’s completely blinded, dragging him even closer that I don't stop until his chest collides with mine.

“If you move so much as an eyebrow before I’m stuffed, it’s instant war!” I announce.

More like threaten.

“Certified lunatic in a ponytail,” I hear him curse under his breath.

I don't care, as long as he gets me my dinner and it better not be a hamburger.

Driving into me like that and still acting like he's in the right.

I mean I'm wrong too but, he's moreeee wrong.

He looks around, obviously embarrassed being grabbed like that.

Sweet, because this situation is making my stomach and wallet feel pretty uncomfortable also.

“First, let my shirt go. This is so embarrassing, and I feel disturbed,” he tries to reason with me.

Unable to be reasoned with, at least not in this situation, I fire back at him, “Fair, because I feel hungry.”

Without another word, he takes out his phone to make a call. As soon as it begins to ring, I let him go and snatch the phone from his hand, ending the call.

He glares at me, twisting his neck like a jammed bottle cap, looking ready to unscrew his own head. “Give me back my phone.”

“No! I’ll give it to you when I’m fed, watered, and completely satisfied.”

“You will regret this," he says angrily.

I glare at him and hiss, “I will scramble my GPS so I never accidentally bump into you again.”

~

With him leading the way, we reach a restaurant, and I order a full table, not failing to catch the shocked expression on his face. He sits cross-legged across from me, watching me shovel food into my mouth as he keeps checking his wristwatch, shaking his legs restlessly, and, at the same time, arranging his shirt I roughly handled.

“Can you eat a little faster?” he asks, checking his wristwatch again for the umpteenth time.

I cough, pausing from eating for a while to take water.

I gulp down hard, hitting my chest as if to help the food go down more smoothly. “If I go any faster than this, I’d accidentally deep-fry my own airway. Is that your plan? Huh?”

Silly man.

He goes mute; instead of responding, he just watches me with eyes I can barely put a language to, but I can swear he has called me crazy like a hundred times in his head.

Who f*****g cares, because I don't!

I'm done caring about what the p***s-gendered creatures think.

Look where that got me - broke and hungry.

“Anyways… I’m already full, so what do we do with the rest of the food?” I ask, licking my fingers without any care in the world who's watching.

He glares at me coldly without a word, and I roll my eyes so hard it hurts.

“Waiter, can you pack this into takeaway, please? Also, add some more protein and put it on his tab.”

We will never cross paths again anyway.

Probably.

Maybe.

And even if we do, he's wrong, mtcheew.

But I hope we don't.

God, I hope not.