A young woman struggles in the modern world when she has to finish university, handle life and take care of her six-year-old son. It certainly doesn't help her situation when she's got things barely figured out. Madilyn Adair is known for being driv...
A/N: Here's the second update of the week as promised. This story will return back to weekly updates until I finish writing it (offline that is) and once I'm done you'll see a lot more updates within the week. I am a bit busy with studying though so keep in mind that this may take time and weekly updates will have to do for now.
If you have any cast suggestions then please do tell me who you picture the characters as. I'm still trying to come up with a cast and your suggestions would be a big help! Also, any songs that remind you of the story? Drop your suggestions in the comment section!
ENJOY!
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"No way. How could you ever doubt Batman? He's Batman," Riley declared hotly like those very two words explained everything.
Bruce and Riley were in a heated conversation about Batman and Superman and I was getting very frustrated. I wanted to come to Golden Quaff to get some of my assignments done since I was attempting to free my weekends for Riley and while I was here I would let Riley play around the café and go to Noah's office upstairs if he wanted to play games which Noah had downloaded on the computer—almost a million of them despite my warning and insistence that Riley would get addicted to them if there were too many games. However, things didn't go according to plan when Bruce showed up and now I was sitting here, listening about two superheroes that I could frankly care less about with my back hunched across my paper, as if the closer I looked the easier it would be to concentrate with the constant chatter.
"That's it!" I said, standing up abruptly, my voice raising and my eyes widening with anger and agitation. "I am trying to work and you boys are doing nothing to help. It would be bloody brilliant if both of you could keep your traps shut!"
Both of them snapped their attention to me at my outburst—and so did few nearby tables—and still very agitated, I looked around at the nearby tables whose attentions I had stolen and gave them the stare that practically screamed what are you looking at, morons?
Looking back at Bruce and Riley I sighed before I collected my books and papers, messily due to my frustrated state, and said rather snappily, "Carry on with your superhero talk, boys. I'll just go to another table."
Huffing furiously, I turned on my heel and chose the nearest table instead of one of the booths and slid into my chair, laying all my material on the table before I picked up the pen and began to write furiously. A few minutes later I looked back at the question and froze. The colour from my face drained as I realised that I had answered the question wrongly. Releasing an aggravated sigh, I lay down my pen and buried my head into my hands, massaging my temples with the palms of my hand, my soft golden hair brushing against my fingertips.
Next, just as I felt myself drifting off, I felt a hand on my shoulder and I jerked upwards. I stared, alerted, at the man before me before I realised who it was as my vision came into focus and I breathed out the breath I had been holding.
