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*downtown *

"So i'm fired?" I ask my manager with a sigh. All i did was shout at the customer. He was so rude to me for no reason... Okay maybe i over reacted a little but he shouldn't have knocked over the display i spent hours putting up, only for a simple 'sorry' in return.

"Yes, Your customer service is horrible... here is your last pay check." He hands me an envelope with my name on it. Great, this is just great.

I sigh a little, knowing i'm totally screwed, "I think i need compensation money too, my backs a little sore from carrying this business the past 3 years." I wink at him, before turning and walking out of the shop, although this situation was far from funny. How am i going to help my family now?

Walking out i could see the guy i shouted at, standing there with six bags, struggling to get them to his car. I jog over and he immediately takes a step back, remembering me.

He had blonde hair, his roots returning back to an original brunette color, his eyes were piercing blue, the same color as a diamond. He was quite tall, really defined face and bushy eyebrows that just completed his whole look.

"Come to shout at me again?" He looks all around my face, pressing his lips together.

"Come to help you, dickhead. I'm a nice person just you really irked me." I take three bags off him, i am a nice person, which is why i'm helping him right now. My dad never raised me to be rude.

"Did your manager send you out?" He was hesitant about it, but walks on ahead of me.

"My manager fired me because of my poor customer service..." I was under payed at that job but i still needed the money.

"Oh, i'm really sorry." He unlocks his Mercedes Benz.

"You better be." I joke, opening up the boot, This mans trunk was full of shopping bags, literally full.

"Someone's birthday?" I set the bags i had ontop of the others gently to not break anything.

"No... I'm moving into my own house so i'm buying stuff to get me started." He sets his bags down on top, all this for a house? There's like Gucci bags, i don't think Gucci do houseware... do they?

I nod, not really interested and open the envelope the manager gave. You have got to be kidding me.

"Sneaky little bitch." I rip the empty envelope up.

"Are you... Are you okay?" He looks at the paper i just shoved into my back pocket. No.

"He didn't pay me... What an asshole." I'm even more screwed than before. I go to grab my phone out of my pocket, but realize it's broken to pieces, sitting on my bedroom floor.

"I can give you some-"

"There's no need for that... It's kind of your fault i'm here." I look at my watch, unintentionally being rude.

"Then i insist, Let me drive you home. Let me do something for you at least. I owe it to you." He grabs his wallet from his pocket. This man is filthy rich. I didn't notice all the rings on his fingers before or the Louis Vuitton wallet. Not to mention, the Gucci shoes. Definitely Trust Fund.

"Hop in a random car with a random stranger who got me fired... Sounds a bit sketchy. I can walk home." I turn on my heels and start to walk away.

"Wait." He grabs my hand. I turn around astonished. There was absolutely no need for him to touch me.

"At least let me put you in an uber or something." He hands me a $50 bill. Oh wow.

"You take that back..." I put it in his hand and close his hand over.

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