07-20-2022, 06:12 PM
There was no use explaining her situation to this rude and insensitive boy. Sometimes it was difficult for Stephanie to understand it herself. She had been born into a life of luxury, reduced to a poor street rat, and now her status was somewhere in the middle of the two extremes. The young girl struggled with feelings of worthlessness and only pretending to be somebody else onstage could make her forget them.
“I wouldn’t like you even if you were taller than me. Or even if you were handsome, which you are definitely not. You’re not a prince. You’re a frog!”
Once again, he defended his so called manly smell. Stephanie wished she had a vial of French perfume with her. She’d spritz it on him. In fact, she was going to carry some with her from now on just in case she ran into him again.
She gazed down at the dancers. “Even if his wife did force him to dance, he’s still smarter than you. He knows that men should always do what women tell them to.”
How dare he imply that she was dirty on the inside (which was one of her greatest fears)! She was going to beat him to a bloody pulp! Her fist connected with his eye and a feeling of immense satisfaction rushed over her. “You deserved that, you filthy twit! Now go run crying to your mommy like the coward you are!”
Instead he told her she was going to regret what she did. Stephanie folded her arms and rolled her eyes. “Yeah? Then show me what you got, Shorty.”
She braced herself to step back and avoid his punch, but he tackled her, throwing her off balance. Screaming, she fell on the hard planks of the pier. She tried her best to fight him off by hitting him and attempting to bite him. If she could maneuver herself on top of him, she would have the upper hand. But was she strong enough or was she going to have to admit defeat?
“I wouldn’t like you even if you were taller than me. Or even if you were handsome, which you are definitely not. You’re not a prince. You’re a frog!”
Once again, he defended his so called manly smell. Stephanie wished she had a vial of French perfume with her. She’d spritz it on him. In fact, she was going to carry some with her from now on just in case she ran into him again.
She gazed down at the dancers. “Even if his wife did force him to dance, he’s still smarter than you. He knows that men should always do what women tell them to.”
How dare he imply that she was dirty on the inside (which was one of her greatest fears)! She was going to beat him to a bloody pulp! Her fist connected with his eye and a feeling of immense satisfaction rushed over her. “You deserved that, you filthy twit! Now go run crying to your mommy like the coward you are!”
Instead he told her she was going to regret what she did. Stephanie folded her arms and rolled her eyes. “Yeah? Then show me what you got, Shorty.”
She braced herself to step back and avoid his punch, but he tackled her, throwing her off balance. Screaming, she fell on the hard planks of the pier. She tried her best to fight him off by hitting him and attempting to bite him. If she could maneuver herself on top of him, she would have the upper hand. But was she strong enough or was she going to have to admit defeat?
