Big Bad Wolfie novel Chapter 13

After dinner — and steeling a few of a friend's champaign glasses because, and I quote, "you need it more than I do," which I agree with 100% — we're dancing.

If you consider stomping off beat around a ball room floor dancing.

"How are you so well respected around here?" Wolfie narrowed his eyes at me.

It's also turned into more of an interrogation.

I shrugged. "Just by knowing how to get things done and done well I guess."

It's true. I am pretty well respected in this scene. By most, not all. I've worked my but off to get these high ranking members to see me as their equal. Some of them still haven't gotten the picture, but if that's the case, I probably don't care about their opinion anyway.

And some really are just better than me and aren't my equal.

That doesn't mean we can't respect each other though.

"Hmm. . ." He hummed.

"Are you sure it's not because you were born with this position and everything that comes with it is wrapped in a nice little bow for you? You still don't seem that impressive," he scoffed, giving me a once over.

I laughed heartily. "Y'know, all these jabs your taking at me," it's not the first of the night, and he's clearly trying to rile me up, "they're basically the equivalent to stabbing a corpse," I informed him.

He looked slightly caught off guard. "That's an interesting analogy."

I shrugged, "I mean really, you're saying them like you expect me to care," I snorted. "It's like stabbing a corpse and expecting it to stir."

"You are such a weird girl."

"I already told you you haven't seen anything yet," I shook my head.

He sighed, giving up and changing the topic.

"And why do so many people wanna talk to you?"

"Ummm, it might have something to do with the fact I'm just not a douchebag," I mocked with a laugh. "I swear, you think too highly of me," I shook my head sarcastically.

His eyes narrowed even more. "Mm, I don't know."

I raised an eyebrow. "Of course you don't. How would you?"

"I'm very good at reading people," he informed.

"Ah, sure you are."

You're as clueless as a lost puppy.

"What am I thinking right now?" I challenged him.

He'll never get it.

"How undeniably attractive I am," he stated matter-of-factly, kind of surprising me with the fact he made a joke.

"Pft, no."

Well now I am.

"My turn," I chirped.

His eyebrows furrowed. "For what?"

"To guess what you're thinking. And then I get to pick your brain with questions like you did mine."

"That's not how this works —"

"That's how I'm telling you it's gonna work."

Before he could whine more about it, I proceeded. "I bet you're thinking about. . . Me."

"Self centered much?"

Says the guy that just called himself undeniably attractive.

"I think you're trying to figure me out. Either that, or you think you already have," I stated.

There was a pause.

"The second one."

I snorted. "Of course. And what have you deduced?"

"You're young —"

"Oh, good one Sherlock."

He glared at me.

I shrugged at him with a smirk.

"You're nieve."

Oh, strike one.

"You just skate through life, not observing what's around you."

Strike two.

"You think you're always right."

. . . Yeah, okay.

"You're all bark no bite."

No, actually, I think that's you.

"Strike three batter, and you're out," I shook my head at him.

He quirked an eyebrow. "You're just in denial."

"Oh, a hundred percent. Just not about any of that."

He looked at me confusedly. I took the opportunity to change the subject.

"Now, on to the most important question. . ." I paused for suspense. "What's your favorite color?" I asked, trying to sound intense.

"Gray," he answered with an eye roll.

I don't care if he thinks it's frivolous.

"Gray like your tie or gray like your eyes?" I questioned.

". . . My tie."