FIVE (1/1)
25 CONTROVERSIAL QUOTES FROM THE STYLE EMPRESSOn her constant battle with her weight:"I know I’ll never be as fashionably thin as Twiggy so I created my clothing labelcalled I Don’t Give A Stardust Shit. I can wear it all the time, rain or shine,take it or fucking leave it.”Sandara Park__________________________________________________ “WHAT IN THE NAME OF HELL WAS THAT?!” Gone is my gallant Lancelot. In place now is Morgan le Fay masquerading as a hot stud. He’s looking at me like I stole his entire inheritance and donated it to charity. Well, what did you expect, sperm thief? I can’t talk to him naked. I haul myself up from the bed and button up the shirt he’s lent me. My muscles protest as I stand up but I endure it. I pick up my bikini bottom and top somewhere on the floor. “Can I use the bathroom first before you rain your shit on me?” I ask him caustically. He doesn’t answer. His jaw is set in a furious line, his eyes, blazing, his hands, clenching and unclenching at his sides. I enter the bathroom. I lean on the door and close my eyes tightly. Oh god, what have I gotten myself into? I got laid minus the fertilization. There’s only a week of fertile period in a month and I’m regular like clockwork and we’re smack dab in the middle of my breeding season. My Bubba Dada is very pissed off right now and looks like I won’t be getting any encore soon. I sigh and wash my face. I try to ignore the abject disappointment in my heart. That moment when he pulled out of me, it felt like he ripped my hopes and dreams to pieces. He sure showered his cumfetti all over me, pun intended. Only, there’s no reason tocelebrate. I right my clothing and come out of the bathroom. He’s wearing his board shorts again and a dark scowl that could wilt Titanium. He’s not talking but I know he’s waiting for my explanation. I’m not a person who’s fond of explaining myself. People follow my orders almost without question. They’re paid to do so. But I’m not in my turf and this man is not my employee. I do owe him an explanation. “I’m sorry…” I begin. “So, that was the reason you came to me at the bar? You wanted a baby?” I nod and stare at the floor. I hear him curse again. So much for Mr. Clean. Oh god, this is worse than a walk of shame. I just gave away my V-card and the man is as mad as a hornet at me he probably doesn’t even realize it. “Did it ever occur to you that what you were doing was wrong, Dara? Very wrong.” I nod again, fresh waves of humiliation washing over me. I feel like I’m a misbehaving ten-year old and he’s my mother reprimanding me. “I didn’t mean for you to know.” He stands up abruptly, nearly knocking the chair he was sitting on. “You mean to tell me, if you did get pregnant, you won’t even inform me I’ve fathered a child?!” I cringe. It sounds so low now that he’s saying it. “Jesus, what are you?!” I’m a heel. I can’t stand his censure. Suddenly, I feel so cheap. Even cheaper than the bootlegs at the sidewalks. What a mighty fall because I sell designers at Saks. “Look, I deeply apologize. I’m really, really sorry. It was wrong. Very wrong. But I didn’t succeed, so please don’t be too mad, Jaejong.” He laughs mockingly. “Mad? You have no fucking idea.” I raise my chin. “Well, you did enjoy it, didn’t you?” He flushes even more, as if I’ve insulted him further. I want to forget my big name right now. This didn’t happen to Sandara Park, ballbreaker extraordinaire. “I’m going. Thank you for the wonderful evening. I really enjoyed it.” I head for the door. I can’t wait to get away from him. Definitely, Bubba Dada no more. ————//———— “Dara!” I don’t stop and quicken my stride. “Dara, will you stop!” “Leave me alone, Jaejoong.” He catches up with me and blocks my way. It’s already near midnight and the beach is almost deserted aside from couples having a night cap on the loungers nearby. The moon is still up but it’s casting somber rays on me now.