Running Away With The Bad Boy

Getting Her Number

Blake and I ordered an Uber and it took us home, but I couldn't stop thinking about Charli. Three whole days went by, and I just couldn't get her out of my mind. 

"This isn't like me," I said to myself while I was showering on night 3. (Yes I talk to myself when I'm alone, no it's not creepy, who doesn't do it?) "I just need to see her again. One more time." 

So the next day, I put on some black jeans, a white t-shirt, and white Vans, and I headed over to the school. I guessed I would either see her or not, and that was up to fate. Not my problem anymore. 

I reached the school and hung out in the parking lot near a group of guys smoking. I wondered what Charli would do if she saw me. 

It was kinda romantic of me to come out here, just for her, I thought to myself. But at the same time, it was pretty much useless, because I was leaving for LA in just a couple of days!

I paused, looking at the doors of the school as they started to open. Maybe I should leave. I probably shouldn't be trying to pick up a girl when I was about to move away. 

I was about to back out, but then a couple of girls came out of the school, and guess who they were? Just my luck—Charli and some random chick. 

I groaned a little, I wanted it to just be me and Charli. But I slapped on my best smile and started to walk over to them. Charli looked even prettier today, wearing another one of her signature blue headbands. 

Why did she have to look so pretty? It was doing bad things to my heart, and I'm a MAN, a BAD man. I'm not even supposed to have a heart. 

"Hey, ladies," I said, in my most charming voice, when they came near me. 

Charli's friend gave me a look, raising one perfectly drawn-on black eyebrow. "Uh, what?" 

Wow, attitude much? 

"I was just going to ask if I could get your number," I said to Charli. 

"Um, WHAT?" said the friend. I was starting to get real sick of this b*tch. 

"Not you," I told her. "Charli." 

Charli looked up at me with big blue eyes. "Wh-why?" she asked shyly. 

"Oh, please. Look, mister," said her friend, putting her hands on her hips and leaning in toward me. "You can have her number, but at a price!" 

"What?" I said in disbelief.

"That's right," said the raven-haired girl. 

"What do you want?" 

"Hmm." She tapped at her chin, an evil grin spreading across her face. "How about...fifty bucks!" 

"Fifty bucks? No frickin' way." 

"Then no number." 

"Um, Larie," said Charli nervously. "He can, um. He can have my number." 

"But, Charli!" 

"Here," said Charli shyly, tearing a piece of paper off one of the notebooks in her hand and carefully writing a number on it. She handed it to me, gave me a hesitant smile, and then tugged on Larie's hand. 

"Good to see yo—" But before I could finish, she had hurried off with Larie. 

Man, this girl really was playing hard to get.

Well, two could play at that game.