Harper possessed a rare talent - she could blend two worlds that the universe swore could never coexist: her humdrum life as an accountant by day with her steamy famous alter ego crafting erotic tales online by night.
But her double life unravels in...
❝Girl, I refuse You must have me confused with some other guy The bridges were burned Now it's your turn, to cry❞
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I was six years old when Hannah Montana shoved me into a janitor's closet and stole my lunch from me.
Of course, that wasn't her real name. Or identity. Just the one I'd given that pig-faced bully girl who'd made my elementary school experience a living nightmare.
And now, it would seem the universe had sent me Hannah Montana 2.0.
Well, I was going to Miley Cyrus this bitch.
Or something to that effect.
I'd just about managed to make it in the nick of time as the cashier was about to process her pizza. The guy glance at me with frown lines deeper than my future.
"What?"
"That pizza," I said and pointed to the box in his hands. "That's mine buddy. This spawn of Satan here just assaulted me and took it from me."
Cashier-boy blinked, his mouth falling ajar. He glanced between the comic book he had open on his lap (an X-Men issue, nice) and me, as if trying to make up his mind about what was more entertaining.
Reality won.
F for Wolverine and the X-crew.
"Is that true?"
He pushed his glasses up his nose and turned assertively to face Hannah Montana 2.0. For all the fire she'd smoked up my ass minutes ago, I had to admit she had the shame to look a little bit mortified at my tattling on her. By the pencil-skirt and satin white top she wore tucked into it, I could tell she was one of those hard-working, stickler-for-the-rules types.
I smirked at her and crossed my arms over my chest, not failing to notice her eyes drop to my arms.
That's right you portrait-of-a-devil-on-fire, these guns aren't just for show.
"Absolutely not!"
I froze, my fingers digging into my arms.
"Excuse me?" I raised my voice. Was she really going to blatantly lie?
"He stole the pizza from my cart first. I just got it back!"
"By ramming me over with your trolley!" I countered, voice heated. "In what world is that not assault?"
"Oh please," she scoffed, looking me up and down like I was an ice cream cone she'd dropped on the floor by accident. "You slid on the floor and fell on your own clumsy ass. How is it my fault if you have two left feet?"
My jaw dropped open. Any more and I could practically fit that pizza box right in and walk right on out of here.
"Listen," I hissed, moving up to her past the gaps in our trolleys."You know what you did. Own up to it."
