“You bitch!” she snarled, trying to lunge at me. Her friends held her back.
I got in her face. “Keep your shirt on you stupid whore! That man up there,” I turned and pointed to Cole, who was singing his ass off, his eyes on me, a smile on his face.
“That man is mine. So keep your cheap, inflatable boobs to yourself, or I’ll make you choke on them,” I threatened.
The girl didn’t say anything. She backed down instantly, fixing her shirt so that it covered her more modestly.
I turned back around and Gracie snickered.
“You’re insane,” she laughed.
I shrugged and looked back to the stage. Cole’s eyes were laughing. He had seen the whole thing.
You’re mine, I mouthed to him.
The song ended and before the band launched into the next one, Cole leaned down, the mic in his hand and cupped the back of my head from where he stood. I had to go up on my tiptoes to reach him. He kissed me quick and hard. Just how I liked it.
When he stood back up he pointed at me. “That woman right there is my girlfriend. I’m one lucky bastard, right?” he yelled. The audience roared their agreement and I loved it. I ate it up.
I looked over my shoulder and smirked at the still dripping girl behind me. She glared back.
Yep, Cole Brandt was mine.
And even though we were nothing but drama, I wouldn’t have it any other way.
There was no alternative.
We were extreme.
We were insatiable.
We were madness.
But we loved each other.
In the end, that was the only thing that mattered.
And if I had to smack a bitch for looking at him, then so be it.
Because that’s how we rolled.
One piece of crazy at a time.
The End