Firingwall
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Night of the Rich Girl (Preview)
🕑 Added 2023-09-23 02:49:32 +0000 UTC“Humph! Watch where you’re going, peasant!”
Landon winced, rubbing his arm. He looked at the woman he ran into, but not directly at her face for long. The way she icily stared at him said so much. She was fairly “above” him, and they both knew it.
The woman was young and pale. Her hair was black as night and long, elegantly brushed to precision. She wore an equally elegant dress and heels that screamed she was rich and proud. She was definitely of a higher standing than him in some way.
She continued to stare daggers at him, almost as if she was begging for him to say something so she could tell him off. He said nothing, his cheeks reddening intensely as he did his best to avoid crossing eyes with her. Even if she wasn’t glaring at him, he wouldn’t be able to really look at her without feeling embarrassed. Anyone who looked at him for long just made him feel awkward.
He pushed his glasses back up his nose, fidgeting slightly. How did I get into this mess?
His mind quickly ran over the events that brought him to this point. He had come to the mall right after work. Night had long since fallen, but he didn’t want to wait until tomorrow to get some new games from his favorite store. He finally had a few days off so he wanted something fun to play with in his free time.
That’s why he never noticed her. His head was in the clouds as he left the store, gleeful with his haul. He had casually walked out without even thinking, paying no mind to anyone else.
“Wellllllllllll?” The woman snapped, pulling his attention back to her. “Aren’t you going to say anything?” She wasn’t going to leave herself or let him leave without saying anything, no matter how long he awkwardly stood there.
Mustering as much courage and assurance as he could, he cleared his throat. “S-s-sorry.” The word was stuttered and whimpered out so meekly and quietly that it filled him with dread. That wouldn’t be enough for her, would it?
He held his breath, expecting a hateful snap or remark from the lady.
However, it did not come. The woman’s stare softened but not too much. She sighed, brushing her hair back over her shoulder. “Well, I suppose that will do. I accept your apology.”
She looked at her long, sharp, painted fingernails as she continued. “However, you must be more careful. Not everyone will be as gracious as I to accept such a meager apology. You should be most thankful that someone of my social standing is the person you aggressively brushed shoulders with.”
With that, she said nothing else. She turned away with flair, her long hair swinging around like a shampoo commercial. She strutted off with a certain sway in her step, her high heels letting out small clicks and clacks on the hard mall floor.
