❝You think we're going to live happily ever after? Newsflash: I'm not a fucking princess, you're no prince and this fucked up thing between us is not a fairy tale.❞
Ian raises one perfectly arched eyebrow, unfazed by my outburst. ❝Fairy tales can be...
If "Happy Ever After" did exist, I would still be holding you like this. All those fairy tales are full of shit. One more fucking love song, I'll be sick. —Maroon 5, Payphone.
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It's nearly twilight and I'm laughing loudly, tears streaming down my face as I lean against Ian's borrowed car to support myself. I'm sure I look like a freak with a face as red as ketchup and running mascara staining my cheeks but Ijust can't stop.
Ian sighs loudly and I look at his resigned face through watery eyes. "I honestly didn't think this through," he mutters.
"Y-yes you d-did not," I stutter as I let out another bark of laughter. "You r-really didn't."
Ian sighs again and steps closer to me. He lightly thumps my back as I start to cough. But despite the way I'm basically hacking out a lung, I'm still laughing. And I have a very good reason to do so. Because Ian, the ever royal king of jerks, has managed to single handedly impress me.
I honestly thought he'd be taking me somewhere romantic. Like maybe we'd go skinny dipping in some exotic lake he found once upon a time. Or maybe he managed to find a connection to get to the Hollywood sign and he set a picnic for us up there. Or, I don't know, maybe anything but what is currently in front of me.
We're not having a picnic on the Hollywood sign. We're not skinny dipping in some magical lake. And yet, I'm impressed. Because, standing right in front of me is a hipster themed restaurant.
I tell you the truth, I lie not. It's a relatively large looking place with a small parking lot. The exterior is lemon in color and the large windows are tinted yet made out of stained glass. I'm not even inside yet and I'm already getting some sort of vintage vibe.
AND IT'S FREAKING CALLED "THE HIP-STARDOM" OH MY FUCK, SOMEONE HELP ME, I THINK I'M YODELING.
Finally, I stop coughing and manage to keep my guffaws at bay because my throat suddenly feels sore. I stare up at Ian through watery lashes and chuckle. "Oh my fuck, I can't believe a place like this exists. This is gold."
He smiles lightly and shakes his head before pulling out a... handkerchief from his pocket. I blink at it because, well, people still use them?
He steps closer to me and shakes his head. "Well, you've had your fun laughing at the place but it's actually pretty cool."
"They're hipsters," I stress the word, ignoring the way my stomach clenches as Ian uses the handkerchief to wipe away the tears and mascara off my face. I clear my throat. "So, um... yeah. Oh, this is going to be great."
