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— Oh shit, Chuck, that’s really your clothes! — Jason drawled, staring at the neon-green tracksuit hanging on the mannequin. — You were posing in it yesterday!
— Well, didn’t I tell you! — muttered the brunette with tanned skin, brushing a lock of hair from her face. Her glasses slid a bit down her nose, and she gave a cat-like snort, fixing the purse that kept slipping off her shoulder. — That’s my tracksuit. Was. Now it’s showing off on a mannequin. And me — you can see for yourself who I am now.
— Chuck… — Jason shook his head, staring straight at her. — Do you realize you sound like a total psycho?
— At least I look like a tasty bitch, — the girl twisted her face into a smirk, stretched out her hand with a bottle of pineapple juice cut with alcohol, and took a greedy gulp. Her skirt rode up her thigh, showing smooth skin, making Jason clench his teeth. — Go on, tell me you wouldn’t stick it in.
— I still think this is just another prank from that asshole, — said Sam with a wrinkled nose, the tall one and the only voice of reason in this whole bunch of Chicago students who had decided to spend their vacation in Europe.
— A prank? — the girl snorted, catching the purse that was slipping off her shoulder. — A prank is your fat mommy screaming into your phone every time, “Sammy, did you remember to wear your hat.” A fucking hat! In Paris! In summer!
She burst out laughing as if it was the funniest joke in the world, then let out a loud belch. A few passersby turned with offended faces, someone muttered something in French and hurried away, and a couple of tourists even stopped to watch the scene.
— Shut the fuck up, idiot! — hissed Sam, stepping forward and clenching his fists.
His massive figure loomed over the girl, but she only gave a lazy smirk and swung her hip. The purse slipped off her shoulder again, and she hooked it with her elbow, swaying a little — the booze had already gone to her head, the old brain still refusing to accept that old doses were no longer possible.
— What’s this? You gonna hit a woman? — she sneered, pushing her hip out even more, as if deliberately provoking him. The skirt slid dangerously upward, and Sam turned his eyes away, clenching his jaw so tight that his cheekbones bulged.
— Not funny, Chuck, — he forced out through his teeth. — Not one bit.
— Ah! You heard it! You hee-eard it! — she yelled triumphantly. — Our skeptic himself admitted I’m still Chuck!...Full story (15 000 characters - 6 parts + add. images) is open to subscribers here or on Patreon