Read Online The Bad Boy's Dance by Vera Calloway - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Vera Calloway
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you?” Asher demanded suddenly, sitting upright and wiping the chocolate rapidly. “I’m allergic to raisins!”
My laughter died instantly. Oh no. He was allergic! Frantically, I dug in my tote bag for my phone, but the stupid thing was nowhere to be found. Technology was grafted with a little chip marked ‘Be Evil To Ivy’.
“Lie down! Can you breathe? Do you feel like…like your skins itchy? Oh my gosh! You’re getting blotchy!” I fussed, hovering over him, still trying to find my phone and make sure he didn’t have a seizure at the same time.
Frowning, Asher glanced at his skin. “I am not blotchy!”
Ignoring him, I held up my phone in triumph. Yes! Quickly pressing my finger over the little keys, I dialed 911 and waited a millisecond.
“This is 911, what’s your emergency?” a droll woman’s voice greeted me.
“I have a guy here who’s allergic to raisins and he-” My frantic recounting came to a halt when Asher clutched his stomach and doubled over on the narrow seat, roaring with laughter.
“Hello? Miss?”
“Um,” I started nervously. “I think he’s fine. False alarm. Sorry for bothering you,” I finished lamely.
She told me to call again if anything happened and hung up. I watched Asher roll around like a ten-year old. “I…can’t….believe…you called…911!” he guffawed, nose crinkling with a new wave of laughter.
I crossed my arms over my chest. “I’m allergic to strawberries, and I happen to break out into hives when I touch one. So sue me for caring!”
Should have figured…why would he have something in the mini-bar if he’s allergic to it? Nice move, Ivy.
Finally regaining his composure, Asher patted my head, like I was an entertaining lapdog. Then again, I was crouched in front of his seat, as worried as I was that he’d start seizing.
Clearing my throat, I hauled my tote bag over my shoulder and glanced at my watch. Shoot! It was nighttime already. I hated driving at night. Some suicidal bikers without reflective gear obviously didn’t realize that someone could very easily whop them into the next century if they crossed a street at night.
“I’d better get going,” I said, a tad petulantly. Maybe someday I’d get better at this ‘practical joke’ thing. Who knows, I might even pull one off someday!
Whoa there, let’s not go crazy.
Was I supposed to wave at Asher? That seemed pretty lame seeing as he was less than ten feet away.
Being the cowardly me, I selected the less awkward choice and hurried from the theater. Somehow, I managed to find myself at the front door. How I managed to maneuver in the maze that was Asher Grayson’s house is something up there with why things disappear in the Bermuda Triangle.
After fumbling with the lock on the door, I was caught in the magnificence of the Grayson mansion’s front lawn. The gravel path leading to my car was lit by small lanterns, illuminating the entire yard and casting the mansion with a soft glow.
I half- expected Queen Elizabeth to glide in with her royal crown and demand that I leave this magnificent property before I contaminate it with my mediocrity.
Hurrying to my car, I settled into my car in relief. The house looked ethereal in the night, like a palace where a prince awaited you on his trusty steed to sweep you off your feet.
But those things only existed in fairytales. Real life had given me a rude
My laughter died instantly. Oh no. He was allergic! Frantically, I dug in my tote bag for my phone, but the stupid thing was nowhere to be found. Technology was grafted with a little chip marked ‘Be Evil To Ivy’.
“Lie down! Can you breathe? Do you feel like…like your skins itchy? Oh my gosh! You’re getting blotchy!” I fussed, hovering over him, still trying to find my phone and make sure he didn’t have a seizure at the same time.
Frowning, Asher glanced at his skin. “I am not blotchy!”
Ignoring him, I held up my phone in triumph. Yes! Quickly pressing my finger over the little keys, I dialed 911 and waited a millisecond.
“This is 911, what’s your emergency?” a droll woman’s voice greeted me.
“I have a guy here who’s allergic to raisins and he-” My frantic recounting came to a halt when Asher clutched his stomach and doubled over on the narrow seat, roaring with laughter.
“Hello? Miss?”
“Um,” I started nervously. “I think he’s fine. False alarm. Sorry for bothering you,” I finished lamely.
She told me to call again if anything happened and hung up. I watched Asher roll around like a ten-year old. “I…can’t….believe…you called…911!” he guffawed, nose crinkling with a new wave of laughter.
I crossed my arms over my chest. “I’m allergic to strawberries, and I happen to break out into hives when I touch one. So sue me for caring!”
Should have figured…why would he have something in the mini-bar if he’s allergic to it? Nice move, Ivy.
Finally regaining his composure, Asher patted my head, like I was an entertaining lapdog. Then again, I was crouched in front of his seat, as worried as I was that he’d start seizing.
Clearing my throat, I hauled my tote bag over my shoulder and glanced at my watch. Shoot! It was nighttime already. I hated driving at night. Some suicidal bikers without reflective gear obviously didn’t realize that someone could very easily whop them into the next century if they crossed a street at night.
“I’d better get going,” I said, a tad petulantly. Maybe someday I’d get better at this ‘practical joke’ thing. Who knows, I might even pull one off someday!
Whoa there, let’s not go crazy.
Was I supposed to wave at Asher? That seemed pretty lame seeing as he was less than ten feet away.
Being the cowardly me, I selected the less awkward choice and hurried from the theater. Somehow, I managed to find myself at the front door. How I managed to maneuver in the maze that was Asher Grayson’s house is something up there with why things disappear in the Bermuda Triangle.
After fumbling with the lock on the door, I was caught in the magnificence of the Grayson mansion’s front lawn. The gravel path leading to my car was lit by small lanterns, illuminating the entire yard and casting the mansion with a soft glow.
I half- expected Queen Elizabeth to glide in with her royal crown and demand that I leave this magnificent property before I contaminate it with my mediocrity.
Hurrying to my car, I settled into my car in relief. The house looked ethereal in the night, like a palace where a prince awaited you on his trusty steed to sweep you off your feet.
But those things only existed in fairytales. Real life had given me a rude
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