Let Me Stitch Your Broken Heart
Olive Garden
Colton drove up next to Carly as she walked the sidewalk towards her house. She looked so beautiful to him -- like an angel. At the same time, she felt like his own personal demon sent from Hell to torture him. Colton knew he would have to be extremely careful. He tapped the button to roll down the window.
"Carly?"
His voice sounded like pure seduction in Carly's ears. She was hurt by his little attraction experiment and wanted to make sure he knew it. It was true that she was sorry for liking him when he obviously didn't want her to. She'd whispered an apology when she climbed out of the car. Maybe he had actually heard her and wanted to argue with her. It wouldn't be surprising. She ignored his call.
"Carly? Hello? Earth to Carly!"
Carly put on a defiant air and continued to walk home.
"Please look at me. Come on."
She quickened her pace.
"Carly, you didn't need to apologize. You did nothing wrong. Please."
He's probably lying. He's just doing another experiment. If he doesn't want me to like him, then fine. I'll hate him. Or at least pretend to. She continued to act as if he wasn't there.
"Carly..."
Suddenly his Lamborghini was in front of her. It was angled horizontally in order to stop her from going around it. Her jaw fell open.
"Please get in the car. I want to drive you home. I want to tell you my story."
Finally, Carly decided to speak to him, "That doesn't mean you will."
"I will. Now, please, just get in the car."
"You're very bossy, you know that? Besides, I don't think I trust you."
"Fine then. Just don't make me let you walk home. It's raining."
"That's not rain. There's a sprinkler in that person's yard," she quoted him.
He smiled. The beauty of it made Carly's mind go blank. "So?"
It took too much will-power to resist. She really didn't want to walk home anyways. She was wearing heels. "Fine. But you had better tell me your story or I swear I'll jump out the window!"
"Ok, I promise to tell you. I don't think we have enough time if I'm taking you straight home, though. Maybe we should make a stop along the way."
"Okay...Where to?" Carly asked as she got into the passenger seat.
"Do you like Olive Garden?"
She smiled, "Yes. Yes, I do."
And they were off.
Their dinner had just arrived when Colton began to tell his story.
"I don't think you'll believe me, but I'll give it a shot. By the way, you can't tell this to anyone. And I mean anyone. Don't even mention it in your diary." Carly giggled at his seriousness, but she agreed. "All right, our story begins on a cold, dreary night. There were thick clouds as far as the eye could see."
"Haha! Come on, Colton! Don't be so silly about it. You're not making this very easy to believe."
"Sure I am." Carly's skeptic look proved she didn't believe him. "Fine, I won't be so cliche. But there were thick clouds and it was a cold, dreary night." Carly rolled her eyes. "Okay, okay. Here we go. You know of Stuart and Alicia Shelley, right?"
"Yeah, they own the concert theatre across town."
"Yes, but have you ever seen them?"
"In pictures."
"Okay. Well, they have a son. Most people don't know about him. Wait, let me rephrase that. Most people don't know he's their son. Actually, you probably know him. He goes by-"
"Excuse me, sir, madam. I apologize for interrupting your dinner, but the lady has a telephone call," a waiter from another table had stopped Colton from spilling the name.
"Who is it?"
"He did not provide a name, madam."
"Okay. 'Scuse me." Carly got up from the table and followed the waiter to the phone. He handed her the receiver.
"I'll give you some privacy, madam."
"Thank you." She put the phone to her ear, "Hello?"
"Carly? Is that you?"
"Scott? Why are you calling me? How did you know where I was?"
"That doesn't matter. You need to leave."
"What? Why?"
"Just do it. Walk out the door. It's right behind you." She turned. Indeed there was a door behind her.
"Scott, where are you? Are you watching me!?"
"Leave, Carly. There's a cab outside waiting for you."
"No! I just can't walk out. I'm here with someone!"
"I know. If you really need to talk to him first then fine. Make up some sort of an excuse. Just leave!"
"Scott! I-"
"Just do it, Carly!" He hung up his end.
Carly slowly placed the phone back in its cradle. She looked to the door and back towards their table. The waiter walked up to her, "Finished with the telephone, miss?"
"Yes, sir." And she walked away.
"Carly?"
His voice sounded like pure seduction in Carly's ears. She was hurt by his little attraction experiment and wanted to make sure he knew it. It was true that she was sorry for liking him when he obviously didn't want her to. She'd whispered an apology when she climbed out of the car. Maybe he had actually heard her and wanted to argue with her. It wouldn't be surprising. She ignored his call.
"Carly? Hello? Earth to Carly!"
Carly put on a defiant air and continued to walk home.
"Please look at me. Come on."
She quickened her pace.
"Carly, you didn't need to apologize. You did nothing wrong. Please."
He's probably lying. He's just doing another experiment. If he doesn't want me to like him, then fine. I'll hate him. Or at least pretend to. She continued to act as if he wasn't there.
"Carly..."
Suddenly his Lamborghini was in front of her. It was angled horizontally in order to stop her from going around it. Her jaw fell open.
"Please get in the car. I want to drive you home. I want to tell you my story."
Finally, Carly decided to speak to him, "That doesn't mean you will."
"I will. Now, please, just get in the car."
"You're very bossy, you know that? Besides, I don't think I trust you."
"Fine then. Just don't make me let you walk home. It's raining."
"That's not rain. There's a sprinkler in that person's yard," she quoted him.
He smiled. The beauty of it made Carly's mind go blank. "So?"
It took too much will-power to resist. She really didn't want to walk home anyways. She was wearing heels. "Fine. But you had better tell me your story or I swear I'll jump out the window!"
"Ok, I promise to tell you. I don't think we have enough time if I'm taking you straight home, though. Maybe we should make a stop along the way."
"Okay...Where to?" Carly asked as she got into the passenger seat.
"Do you like Olive Garden?"
She smiled, "Yes. Yes, I do."
And they were off.
Their dinner had just arrived when Colton began to tell his story.
"I don't think you'll believe me, but I'll give it a shot. By the way, you can't tell this to anyone. And I mean anyone. Don't even mention it in your diary." Carly giggled at his seriousness, but she agreed. "All right, our story begins on a cold, dreary night. There were thick clouds as far as the eye could see."
"Haha! Come on, Colton! Don't be so silly about it. You're not making this very easy to believe."
"Sure I am." Carly's skeptic look proved she didn't believe him. "Fine, I won't be so cliche. But there were thick clouds and it was a cold, dreary night." Carly rolled her eyes. "Okay, okay. Here we go. You know of Stuart and Alicia Shelley, right?"
"Yeah, they own the concert theatre across town."
"Yes, but have you ever seen them?"
"In pictures."
"Okay. Well, they have a son. Most people don't know about him. Wait, let me rephrase that. Most people don't know he's their son. Actually, you probably know him. He goes by-"
"Excuse me, sir, madam. I apologize for interrupting your dinner, but the lady has a telephone call," a waiter from another table had stopped Colton from spilling the name.
"Who is it?"
"He did not provide a name, madam."
"Okay. 'Scuse me." Carly got up from the table and followed the waiter to the phone. He handed her the receiver.
"I'll give you some privacy, madam."
"Thank you." She put the phone to her ear, "Hello?"
"Carly? Is that you?"
"Scott? Why are you calling me? How did you know where I was?"
"That doesn't matter. You need to leave."
"What? Why?"
"Just do it. Walk out the door. It's right behind you." She turned. Indeed there was a door behind her.
"Scott, where are you? Are you watching me!?"
"Leave, Carly. There's a cab outside waiting for you."
"No! I just can't walk out. I'm here with someone!"
"I know. If you really need to talk to him first then fine. Make up some sort of an excuse. Just leave!"
"Scott! I-"
"Just do it, Carly!" He hung up his end.
Carly slowly placed the phone back in its cradle. She looked to the door and back towards their table. The waiter walked up to her, "Finished with the telephone, miss?"
"Yes, sir." And she walked away.