𝐂𝐑𝐘𝐁𝐀𝐁𝐘 | mitch rapp

15. 𝘣𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘥𝘺 𝘩𝘦𝘭𝘭

CRY BABY—
CHAPTER FIFTEEN.

Angeline felt like she radiated power as she marched away from the car-- away from Mitch. She could hear him opening and slamming the car door, his heavy footsteps coming right after her, but the brunette pretended that she couldn't hear him, even when he hissed her name. This is how it should be, it should be Mitch trying to chase Angeline, not the other way around.

"Angeline," Mitch hissed one last time before his large hand snapped out and he grabbed her arm, pulling her back to face him. "What- What you just said crossed the line, and it couldn't have been further from the truth, by the way. You'd have to be completely delusional to believe shit like that."

"Call me delusional, then." Angeline held her hands up in defence, knocking Mitch's hand off of her in the process. "I don't give a shit. I've been called a lot worse."

Mitch ran his hand across his face, shaking his head. "I wonder why," he muttered.

"Because I call shit as I see it," Angeline scowled, shoving him by the shoulder, although the nearly six-foot man didn't budge an inch.

Mitch pushed her back lighter, the brunette stumbling a tiny bit. "Don't do that again," he spat.

"Or what?" Angeline glared.

Mitch just glared. He wasn't really a man of words-- Angeline had gathered that much. He most likely fought his way out of fights like this, but he obviously wasn't going to knock her out, so he settled with judgy glares and clenched hands that were meant to look threatening.

"Forget it," Angeline whispered, shaking her head. "None of it matters. The less we fight, the quicker this is all over anyway. Then we never have to see each other again."

The dark-haired man watched as she shoved past him and headed back to the car, opening the trunk to grab her duffel bag. He didn't want to admit that her words had scraped at his heart a little, not a lot, but a little. Mitch managed to convince himself it was just an ego thing as he sauntered over to Angeline, grabbing his own duffel bag and slamming the trunk shut after.

"Can you do an American accent?"

Angeline scrunched her face up. "I can do a Manchester one pretty well. Or, like, I'm kind of decent at Australian--"

Mitch sighed loudly. "That's not what I asked. I asked if you could do an American accent."

She shrugged. "I guess. Why?"

"Show me."

"Is this some sort of kink thing--"

"Angeline," Mitch warned her. "I'm being serious. You talk loud and your voice stands out too much."

Angeline tried not to take offence, her nose scrunching up a little as she folded her arms across her chest. She opened her mouth to try an accent, except as soon as she did, she pursed her lips again, having no idea what to say. Mitch's intense gaze was quite off putting, and if she wasn't good enough no doubt would he let her know about it.

"Well, what should I say?" Angeline questioned him.

"Introduce yourself to me," Mitch replied. "With a fake name."
"What fake name?"

"For Christ's sake, Angeline!" Mitch groaned. "I don't know..." His hazel eyes cast to the floor beneath him. "Sandy."

Angeline snorted, her hand quickly moving to cover her mouth. "Oh my God," she erupted into a fit of laughter, leaning against the car and closing her eyes whilst Mitch looked less than amused. "Oh... You're actually serious?"