Word of the Day: Rancur

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rancur (n.): bitterness or ill will; hatred; malice

Nightlife is better with her. I have to admit. For one, I feel less of a creep when I people watch. It’s such a healthy hobby. It lets me know I’m actually the one who is still sane. A couple walks by with interlocked hands so tight, you would think the woman was delivering a baby or something. I’m talking about white-knuckle grip, tight. I mean why are they holding hands anyway? Hands are such troublesome things. I’ve decided that chronic hand holding is actually a disease. Mental of course. Neglect is like bacteria implanted by host’s parent(s) and developed over time until the host has full blown case of dependency syndrome.

The hands says a lot about a person. That’s why I take care of mine. I’m not taking care of them when they are being suffocated by some chick. In the case of hand holding, they become all sweaty, and clammy, and shit. I can’t be having that.

I look across the table.

Daniella knows not to try to hold my hand. She holds other things of mine. Things the public and other women can only dream of seeing. She looks up from her churro and smiles. Gorgeous thing she is. Her eyes are some shade of olive I’ve never seen before. The dress she is wearing says, “Fuck me now.” Damn cleavage is one of the most alluring I’ve seen in my life too. I pause.

Is it bad that I don’t feel guilty knowing she is just another one on my list? Just another body I’m going to smash. Again.

Another one of my victims.

I take a sip of my water. Not yet Neale. Not yet.

What I like about Daniella is that she is a bad girl. Or bad woman. Whatever the hell you wanna call them. Who knows what the hell women want to be called nowadays? Damn hypocrites.

The waiter stops at our table.

“Would you like anything else?” he asks.

“Check,” I say. Daniella purses her lips perfectly together like the drop dead, gorgeous siren she is, her eyelashes so long, they could probably touch her nose when she closes them. But the girl hardly ever blinks.

“Don’t you want dessert?” Daniella says to me. The waiter looks at me expectantly too, brows plunging into his hairline. This girl doesn’t know how to turn her freak off. I scratch my head.

“I left my sweet tooth back at the hotel baby,” I say light-heartedly.

“Room service then?”

Holy fuck. My blood starts moving a little bit faster.

The waiter clears his throat and walks away. Smart man.

Don’t hate the player. Hate the game.

I make a mental note to never be so cliché again.

“Only if it’s free,” I say.

“You’re so cheap,” she says.

“Don’t forget shallow,” I say raising a finger. She frowns.

“What are you trying to say?” Ah hell. She found me out.

“I’m not trying to say anything.” I search her eyes. I can already see she is looking too deep into what I just said. I’d be doing myself a disservice if I don’t put her in her place. So I tell her the truth. “I’m saying you were easy.”

There. I said it.

What am I saying? I’m really just that good. She wouldn’t have worn that ridiculous outfit if I hadn’t told her to wear it. I simply wanted to see what all I could make her do.

“Neale, you’re an ass. Did you know that?” I smile.

Is that what you told yourself last night when I was giving it to you?” There is real curiosity in my voice. As if I really didn’t know or something. Ha. Broads.

That’s when rancor filled her eyes.

“Neale, you’re really such a loser.” That’s right baby. Say whatever makes you feel better. “I don’t even know why I care.” You don’t. “Your sex was mediocre at best.”

“Now wait a minute!” That’s the last thing you say to my brand of man. The upper echelon.

“Take it back.” I’m pointing my finger at her and there is a bad taste in my mouth. As if her very words danced on my tongue. How dare she talks about my sex game in such layman terms.

Suddenly, the waiter is back and gives me the check.

“I hope you enjoyed your time with us,” he says and walks off.

I glance at the bill and look back at her.

“Don’t be such a hateful bitch all the time. Learn to appreciate good dick when you get it.” I look at the bill again. Any number seems like too much to be spending on her now. I should’ve never spent money on this bitch. I pay for the food and leave a decent tip.

“It’s time to get out of here before I do or say something I’m going to regret.” By the way I said it, she knows I mean business. I’m letting the temper get the best of me. Chillllll Neale.

A silent, mental woosah.

The ride back to the hotel was a little awkward. She gave me head the whole way back and told me I was the dumbest piece of shit she’d ever met. Another successful night in the world of dating I’d say.

Note to self: Never give a one night stand roll over minutes.

Word of the Day: Overt

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overt (adj.)- plainly or readily apparent; not secret or hidden

Angie sat on the stairs with her hands in her lap. She gave me a searching look. As if reading the essence of who I am. I was never the one to cry wolf. I was hungry like the wolf. My ambition she was tired of. It was written all over her face.

That beautiful face.

“You didnt have to embarrass him like that.” I grin. Not because I’m an asshole. More because I’m genuinely an asshole. I can’t fuckin’ help it.

“I deserve you,” I say. “Not him.”

“I’m not a prize to be won,” Angie says. I understand what she says but I hear it better. Her voice says one thing but communicates something different.

She is…happy. Glad. Content to be rid of him Content to be with me.

She stands.

“You ready to jump roofs.”

“Yep.”Since we started parkour training a week ago, I must say my muscles have been feeling somewhat sore. Her boyfriend challenged me to a race last night and lost miserably. I mean dont get me wrong, I’m still in great shape. It’s just that the landing part of parkour can’t even compare to the thrill of being in flight.

We head to the roof. She opens the door and immediately a rush of cold air breathes it’s way into the corridor. The breeze feels good on my hot face.

“You dont have to try win every time we race you know,” she says. “That’s not the way to a girl’s heart.”

“I thought that was mine already,” I say. “What else must I do?”

Angie walks over towards the edge of the building and looks down. The mind of the city is loud in my ears. People. Cars. Dogs. Cats. And the gravel underneath our feet.

Angie turns around after looking at whatever the hell she was looking at and begins to walk towards me with long, elegant strides.

“What else must you do?” She stops right in front of me and cups her hands on my chin and jawline. Her touch is welcomed.

“Make the jump for me,” Angie says. “Not for you.”

“I thought that’s what I did,” I say.

“We both know your pride won my attention. Now I want you to win my heart.” I gulp. I’m not ready. A grin stretches across her face.

I begin to stretch to prepare for one of many jumps I know I will make. This one feels different somehow. It’s not overt either. She can tell I’m feeling a little nervous about the whole situation. Regardless, I take to a sprint and leap with all of the strength I can muster. I feel my legs kick as if I’m propelling myself forward. The other side approaches quickly and before I know it, I land on the building and allow myself to roll forward to take away the force from the jump. I stand up and look back. Angie is still watching me.

“What you waiting for? Come on,” I yell. “Make the jump for me.”

Word of the Day: Enmity

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Enmity (n.)- a feeling or condition of hostility; hatred; animosity

The hate in Lindsey’s eyes corrugated my eyebrows so hard that it felt as if the muscles may have been a sheet of concrete. The enmity between us has been building for sometime now and I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t ready to extinguish it. She looks super hard at me. As if she is ready to use her power again. The way I see it, she is just another stupid, blonde bitch in my way. I tried loving her. She didn’t like that. She didn’t like me showing up at her car wash to tell her there are better things in life than washing cars in plunging, neckline shirts with no bra and flirting with no life guys for a living. Looking at her now I can tell there are devilish thoughts going on in that head of hers. Those green eyes hits like no other and before I know it she lunges at me at sonic speed.

I see her leading with her right. Predictable. I shift to shadow form in the nick of time. As Lindsey goes through, her presence causes my shadow to follow her because of the speed she is traveling. I use the momentum to gain an advantage behind her and materialize back with her in a chokehold.

“Get the fuck off of me,” Lindsey says.

“Better not do that shit again. You hear me?!” I holler in her ear. I can practically feel the enmity coursing in her body, vibrating against me, making me want to do nothing more than to break her fucking neck. Next thing I know she is driving her elbow into my stomach. I hunch over and she escapes my grip.

Now I’m angry. I want her dead.

“Learned that working at the your lame ass nightclub,” Lindsey says. I look up the L.A. street and notice there is a crowd of people gathering to watch us.

“We are supposed to be keeping our powers a secret,” I say.

“Fuck that,” Lindsey says. I startle. “I’m so tired of you thinking you’re the only one in the world for me. You’re obsessed with me.”

I flush.

There is some truth behind what she says. Sharing her is never on my to-do-list. And I find it leads to fights like these. However, this time is different. This time, her eyes are ready to kill.

“I’m not obsessed,” I say. “I…”

“I don’t care anymore,” Lindsey explodes. “I’m gonna kill you.” She lunges at me again. This time, I waste no time. I manifest a wakizashi using the shadows. When Lindsey tries to punch me, I dodge the blow and make a horizontal slash across her abdomen as she hurtles by with her super speed. I feel the steel cut easy. I look back and Lindsey is already on her knees with her hands over her lethal wound. She collapses the rest of the way to the ground and breathes her last breath.

“Rest in peace,” I say. A tear falls down my cheek. I look at the crowd that formed around us. They are staring in horror. I must go before someone attempts something heroic.

So without another word, I just walk away.