Dirty Little Girl

Heather’s P.O.V.

I sat at my 13-inch Macbook Pro, typing quickly. I’d check on the mics in a minute- my friend Aiden had tipped me off via text that there was a significant change in Activision Stocks and I wanted to check it out. Thank God for thin Macbooks. A few seconds after the text, I’d connected to the hotel’s wireless network and opened several screens on Google.

“Boo.”

“AHH!” I jumped, my laptop flying into the air and I snatched it before it hit the ground. “What the fuck, Matt!?” I glared.

He laughed. Bastard. “You…should've seen…your face...” he chortled.

I glared and sat back down, finishing up quickly before closing the windows.

“So what were you doing?” Matt asked, hovering over my shoulder as I checked my email.

“Why should I tell you?” I scowled, leaning back on the couch and deleting the ads and spams. Yahoo was so stupid- letting tons of ads pop into my inbox all of a sudden. I’d have to contact the maintenance people later. I wasn’t really mad at Matt, just annoyed- but he didn’t have to know that.

“Aww I’m sorry,” he kissed my cheek, leaving what felt like a burning sensation on my skin.

“You almost broke my netbook,” I pouted.

“Sorry.” He hugged me, tipping my body over and my precious piece of machinery began sliding off my lap again. “Ahh! Stop!” I seized it before it fell.

“Sorry.” Matt grinned unrepentantly and I suppressed a small smile of my own.

“You, Matthew Sanders, are a hazard to my Apple!” I shut it and set it aside, out of harms way. “And to answer your question, I was checking the Activision stocks.”

“The Acti-what?” He looked at me with an expression of pure confusion. “Speak English, you nerd.”

I rolled my eyes. I wasn’t even wearing glasses right now. “I’m checking the financial status of the people who made Black Ops,” I explained before adding, “And for the record, I am the sexiest nerd you will ever meet.”

“Don’t doubt it,” he agreed with a grin, showing the dimples that made my heart melt. However, the feeling quickly dissipated when he picked me up and threw me over his shoulder.

“Hey! Put me down!” I flailed, but he just tightened his grip and began walking. “Maaaaatt!”

“We’re going to play Black Ops,” he informed me. “It was your idea.”

I glared at the back of his head. “No it wasn’t! It was my idea to see their finance status. Plus, my laptop-”

“-is safe because this happens to be a private suite,” he interrupted.

I huffed. “And if anyone so much as touches it-”

“-I have to buy you a new one and beat up anyone who dared to touch it.” He finished for me. Okay, so I get a little repetitive- so what?!

“You could have hurt my belly ring,” I pointed out.

“But you’re sucking in, so I won’t.” Matt retorted. This was getting ridiculous- how can someone remember all these miniscule and insignificant details and use them against you?!

“Well…I don’t like videogames so you can’t make me play!” Ha! Take that! I thought triumphantly.

“I’ll take you out for ice cream right after,” he tempted, dropping me onto the couch Bri and I found them on originally. I glared at the ‘haha’ look he had plastered across his face.

“You suck.” I stuck my tongue out at him and picked up a controller, preparing to get my ass kicked.